That One Time In Peru

The biggest news in Peru this year is that Inca Kola was purchased by Coca Cola. Okay, maybe not the biggest news, but yes people do talk about it. Peru is the only country in the world where Coca Cola isn't the most popular processed beverage, and I can tell you why. Inca Kola is delicious. And, while, yes it's flavor packs quite the punch of sugar smack into your soul, it's actually quite good. Would I call it a thirst quencher? Not in the least. Yummy? Yes. Inca Kola is often compared to the taste of bubble gum by Americans. I however disagree, while yes the smell somewhat resembles bubble gum, and the neon yellow color sure doesn't help put an end to that comparison, I've found a more accurate similarity. Inca Kola tastes like cream soda. It tastes just like super duper sweet cream soda. You already think cream soda is sweet? Try Inca Kola. Peruvians love this stuff, and ya know what so do I, so call me Peruvian why don't ya. Though I must admit,

I have to say something that may seem rather obvious: I believe in travel.  I believe wholeheartedly in the lessons that are to be learned while exposing yourself to cultures other than your own. No, like really, I'm not sure there is anything more impactful and profound that one can simply opt to expose oneself to, in the world.  I think the ability to swallow whatever gross food is in your mouth without puking is a skill. I think that being disconnected from cell service and the internet and the ability to remain calm and collected through your disconnect is a skill. I believe that communicating where shared languages are slim is a skill, and remaining comfortable despite the struggle is a skill. I believe tolerating stomach ailments and bug bites among a slew of other traveler injuries is a skill. Skills that are learned only by putting oneself through initially uncomfortable situations.  Cramming into a microbus, ordering meals that you have no idea what they are

I left home 40 days ago. How is it possible that Perú already feels so right?  I miss home so much, and I don't expect that feeling to fade whatsoever. In fact, I anticipate the next two years to be full of FOMO (fear of missing out). Apple orchards, snow days, walks to the park with my puppies, family Christmas celebrations, lakes, paddle boarding, dinner with friends, trips to Northern Michigan, and southern Ohio, Halloween, spring break trips down to Florida, Maria's birthday cakes, weddings, graduations, best friends moving to new apartments, and getting new jobs, the whole lot.  But two days ago as I sat on a lliklla on top of dirt and hay and grass with a back strap loom positioned tightly around my waist hoisting my legs uphill, with my feet painfully asleep, and my fingers intricately intermingled in hand spun and dyed sheep's wool yarn, learning to weave my own headband- well I knew precisely at that moment I was doing the right thing. I'm making the

Where to start. I have fleas. Yes fleas. Not mosquito bites, or spider bites, or bed bugs... I have fleas, fleas which happen to be eating me in my sleep. My stomach. My back. My arm pits. My neck. My wrists. That's where fleas bite. I'm learning so much so quickly.  The worst part is, that as I learned that what my problem is, is in fact fleas, all of Ollantaytambo lost power. Most market shops closed, including the ones selling flea killing spray. Also washing machines can't run, exactly when you're being told to wash nearly all of your clothes. Any clothes you've worn since getting bitten, any clothes you wore while getting bitten, any material that has touched the clothes you wore while or after being bitten. So all of my clothes. Since I've been keeping pajamas and used but not yet dirty clothes in one suitcase folded like drawers. All my clothes. And my sheets. And blankets. Some blankets are too thick to be washed. So those need to be sprayed. 

Things that I use as a rule of measure that make me a good host sister: -I will stay up an extra two hours to watch you color and make paper fans. -I will help you learn to draw a clock for your homework. -I will help you reach your ball when in landed on top of a pile of boxes you can’t reach. -I will nearly give you an excuse to be a picky eater. -I will make you feel smart when you know more Spanish than me. -I will hum and dance along to whatever nonsense you’re humming and dancing to. -I will laugh when you’re silly. -I will notice your Frozen themed notebook, and take note that you are going to a Frozen themed birthday party this weekend, and note your excitement, and … I will remember 24 hours later, holy cow, I have a stack of DVDs in my bedroom… one of which is Frozen. (Because what 23-year-old doesn’t move to Peru and pack a Frozen DVD?) I will then proceed to check and see if my Frozen DVD can be played in Spanish… it can. -I will then c

I already have an endearing pet name in my home, Brianita, or little darling Brianna as a loose translation.  People here have heard of the name Brianna, in fact my host fathers cousins child's name is Brianna... probably Briana actually. They know how to pronounce it and don't ask me to repeat it, they get it the first time. That's really nice. In Mexico there was some struggles but it was easy enough, but in Spain the Br really threw people for a loop, I'd get Adriana sometimes just because it was easier for them to pronounce. I'm glad that in my new home people know my name, it makes me feel like I fit in, like I belong.  My name poses challenges when Americans ask me if it's BriAnna or BriOna, because well it's BriAnna, always has been. But who calls me Brianna? Almost no one, ever. Like rarely ever. I'm Bri. But in a Spanish speaking context it's much easier to use my full name, and at that, even I introduce myself as BriOna when speak

Day 1 in Ollantaytambo, here goes nothing.  Breakfast of mandarin juice, chamomile tea, and two bread rolls with butter. I'll take it.  My host mom is wearing a shirt with Justin Bieber on it. If I'm understanding correctly she owns an artisanal shop nearby selling the things she knits and crochets, like this marvelous llama hat she finished when I came in last night. She's very sweet.  I officially have a key to the front door and my bedroom, and I love that I have my own room, my own space to spread out, and the bed is big and mighty comfortable might I add. My first day of work was exciting, I'm learning peoples names and excited to get into the groove. I can never decide if I hate or love routine. The office is nice and very close to my homestay which makes getting to work very easy.  My overall feelings of the day were flooded with excitement. At the end of the day as I went to leave the office my lost suitcase from Lima arrived, I couldn'

It's the Fourth of July, and as an American, well, that means something. I'm not saying I'm always proud to be an American, in fact lately it feels quite the contrary.  That being said the Fourth of July comes with a flood of memories of sprinklers and parades and donuts and barbecue and a million happy childhood memories. For me it also comes with memories of Mexico and Nepal and Croatia. For that I am extremely grateful.  Today I fly to Cusco. I left field school friends behind this morning, packed up and made my way to my Peruvian family's home in Miraflores to collect my other suitcases and made it to the airport. I've checked my bags with minimal trouble, and found my American self plopped down in an airport food court with McDonald's. That's how I will remember celebrating being American this year. Every year abroad comes with a story, and these French fries in the airport are this years.  The bonus to this story is that I successfull

I'm currently on the bus from Ayacucho to Lima, today is our final day of field school, how could that be? I'm sad it's over for sure, but I'm glad to have some time to process it all and soon reflect on the experience as a whole.  In the meantime my mind is occupied, or rather terrified about the next 48 hours. Managing all of my luggage, saying all of my goodbyes in Lima, handling the airports and finding my way to a car that will drive me to yet another unknown place, settling down for the evening, and preparing for whatever Wednesday brings as my first day in Ollantaytambo; I'm currently experiencing those nerves that make you want to cry and throw up all at once. And rock back and forth in the fetal position repeating "why the hell do I do these things to myself?" Over and over and over.  I know I'll be fine, and somewhere deep down, truthfully, I'm ecstatic. I just have to get there. It's always the getting there that's th

July has arrived. I just can't believe how much June taught me. I'm traveling again, I'm abroad again, it's terrifying again, I'm hungry again, I crave food again, I miss my family and friends again, but I'm living my life as it was meant to be lived: traveling, seeing the world, meeting people, trying new things, food, and activities, and learning, learning languages, and music and dances and cultures, and challenging my physical body, challenging my mental strength, challenging myself to be social, challenging myself to be happy everyday despite all of the obstacles. The world is so beautiful if we just have the bravery to go out and see it. Five continents in out of seven and I'm starting to feel like I've gotten just a small taste of what this world is like. Twenty two countries doesn't even scrape the surface of the globe, but it's a start, and if nothing more it's been an inspiration to keep going, keep traveling, keep explo