That One Time In Peru

Tomorrow I'm off to the town of Hualla with the Equipo Peruano Antropologia Forense. I won't have any access to wifi while I'm there so don't expect any posts for the next week or so. In the meantime here is some of the vocabulary I have been picking up here in Peru. Logro - Achievement Capa - Lid (like the lid you put on a hot coffee) Defensoria del Pueblo - Ombudsman Beterraga - Beet root Claxon - Car horn Chapla - Pita like bread from the Ayacucho, Huamanga region and last but not least, my favorite of all time, Alcachofa - Artichoke

Ayacucho is everything.  In Quechua, (the indigenous local language here in Peru), aya means death, cucho means corner. I'm literally at the corner of death. This is Peru, a beautiful whirlwind of smells and sounds and the cutest children in the world. Markets and shops and churches and crafts and food and dancing. Ayacucho is what I imagined Peru to be, finally away from the shuffling, hustle and bustle of Lima, homes scatter up the mountainsides and I can't help but be reminded of Nepal. Dirt roads and dust flying, cramming into micro busses; to be honest I don't know what's wrong with me, but that stuff just sets my soul on fire. Nothing makes me feel more alive than small rural towns. It makes life feel real, survival and finding food and water real. Breathing at  2,746 meters (9,007 feet) is a real struggle at first. Everything is harder and that much more rewarding.  I'm not sure what to write, not sure what everyone wants to know. I want to write...

The past two weeks have been one hell of a whirlwind. To start, on May 30th, around 5:30 pm, I received a job offer that would require me to relocate to a small rural town in the Peruvian Andes. I was struck immediately by panic and sadness, because I knew that I was, of course, going to accept this amazing once in a life time opportunity, and that it would mean leaving all of my friends and family behind in less than a week. By the morning of Friday, June 2nd, I had accepted the position, and knocked my habit of crying. So with that, I went into full on packing mode with a plane ticket that had been already booked for early on June 7th.  The weekend following was amazing, my favorite food, swinging in the backyard, paddle boarding at Kensington, taking Otis and Oliver on walks around the block, and of course PACKING. How many suitcases was I allowed? How much could each weigh, if I paid overage fees, what clothes to pack, what weather to expect, toiletries, my favorite sna...