Berenjena

I've decided I really love Urubamba. It reminds me of Nepal, and Mexico, both places I love. It's a much bigger city than Ollantaytambo with much less tourism and yet it is home to some of the friendliest and kindest Peruvians. While in the market today I was searching for an eggplant, which I had seen before so I was hoping I'd be able to find. I stopped near a woman with vegetables to try to search around for something plump and dark purple. Finally as the woman continued to look at me in confusion I muttered "estoy buscando algo específico pero no sé como se dice en Español"... "I'm looking for something specific but I don't know how to say it in Spanish" rather than ignoring me, or thinking 'while that's your problem isn't it,' she patiently asked me to describe it. "It's big and purple..." I trailed off losing my vocabulary and creativity to describe an eggplant... "berenjena, quiere una berenjena," as she pointed at a nearby stall she told me "go over there and ask that man for a berenjena." I got over there and the mans back was turned to me, so I waited, looking around his heaps of produce for an eggplant. Apparently I hesitated too long, and this women was insistent on helping me so she yelled "berenjena, esta mujer quiere una berenjena!" "Eggplant, this woman wants an eggplant." To which the kind sir said, "eggplant, what are you going to make?" I told him "something with pasta and a sauce" because eggplant parmesan seemed culturally out of reach. I pulled the medium sized one out of a bag and paid him a mere s/. 2.50 and headed immediately back over to my now best friend and purchased a whopping two kilos or, s/. 6 soles, of beautiful looking tomatoes from her for my hopeful future pasta sauce! While she weighed them out we laughed that berenjena was my vocab word of the day. 

Kindness never ceases to amaze and honor me. In a place where foreigners have historically done nothing but harm these people, I am continually treated with the upmost kindness, patience, and respect. I also think that as an American, ya know from the land of the immigrants, it says so much that I am so surprised by this kind treatment. I often think back to situations I've witnessed of foreigners trying to get by in my own home country, and the disappointment I've felt in my fellow Americans. 

The thing is those people you make jokes about, and stereotype, and judge, and laugh at, and that do the seemingly weirdest things at the weirdest time- yeah that's me in Peru. All those cruel thoughts you're having, or that joke on tv you're chuckling at, that's me. 

Be the person who helps someone find an eggplant. That's my new life motto. 

Teach someone a new word. Help. Be kind. Love. 

As per usual I bought out the whole town of Urubamba on my market trip. Yogurt, cheese, sweet potato bread, potatoes, tomatoes, oranges, pasta, Asian style noodles, chocolate chips, cinnamon, a sift, and small Tupperware for my future sauce, an eggplant, probably so much more I'm forgetting. 

I sit on this bus just in awe of my home, in awe of this valley. 

The other day, while at work, knee deep in some research for an upcoming project... I started to well up a bit at the thought of one day having to leave this place. This is my home, these are my people, and if they've changed my life already, then a year and a half from now, well I can only imagine.

Everything smells like spring here and it brings with it the same soul inspiring joy that it does back in Michigan. Sure, the summers mean rainy season here but noticing season changes reminds me of home, and takes away from my gloom of missing my favorite season back home: fall. 

I bought a new blanket from the artisanal market right outside my home the other day. I've been eyeing it for weeks, and with a rearrangement of the booths recently I thought it might be gone. My heart broke because I loved seeing it everyday and dreaming- so finally- I splurged. I laid it across my bed and had the warmest coziest night of sleep ever, my only regret? Not buying it sooner. 

I'm happy putsing around my silly little life in this town. Work and occasional visit with the host fam. Calls home and testing out new recipes. Yoga and market trips.

As I sit on the bus back to Ollanta, two Argentinian sounding tourists who mysteriously found their way onto local public transport, panic halfway that they've gone too far and passed Ollanta. Everyone on the bus reassures them they have not. I get off with ease and without thinking twice plop s/. 1.50 in the drivers hands and head on my way, eggplant and all.