Dear Tooth Fary, I Lost My Tooth And Swalod It

This last weekend marked the arrival of a new cohort of volunteers. Jen already met them at the airport a couple nights before, but we went out to Chaclacayo early on Saturday to be there and welcome them to the training center before they get doled out to their temporary host families. They show up with luggage, often a guitar or some such, and get off the bus still seeming like tourists. That will evaporate soon enough. In Jen's talk, she makes a point of flipping the welcome speech that the country director gave in which he thanked them for giving up so much to come to Peru for over 2 years. Jen told them "You are giving up nothing. You are getting so much, your life will be different forever."

Afterwards, we went over to the Hogar to see the kids. We brought a bunch of little alphabet beads and spent a lot time making bracelets. The kids there crave to have things that are all their own. Toys show up all the time, but are quickly destroyed. I have never seen any toy we have brought on any subsequent visit. Bringing each kid a cheap party favor makes more sense than a Lego set.

For dinner that night we found a great middle-eastern restaurant. I hadn't realized that I had been missing hummus and falafel, but I clearly had been! Meanwhile, Carter suddenly jumped up from his chicken-pita sandwich and exclaimed "My tooth! Where's my tooth?!" Later he would have to write a note to the tooth fairy certifying that he swallowed it.

The Peruvian national team, known colloquially as La Blanquiroja because of their traditional red and white uniforms, played a couple qualifying games. They beat Ecuador but lost to Colombia, so their chances are very slim at qualifying for the World Cup 2014 in Brazil. Let me tell you, if you want to get across Lima in record time, do it during a national team game.

Jen has started taking Spanish classes a couple times a week here in the house. Her Spanish is excellent, of course, but there are certain conjugations she just avoids. It's possible to get to a level in which you are good enough to avoid the parts of the language that are fearful to you. So as with so many things in her life, Jen is attacking her fear head on.

After doodling for this blog, I have found myself re-inspired to draw. By attaining some particular equipment, I am enjoying exploring the possibilities. I ordered some very nice drafting pens that make a huge difference; I also stumbled across a very cheap glass desk under which I have rigged a big bright light and –voila– I have a light table. Finally, I simply let myself go back to something that I found satisfying when I was 17...photo tracing. So here is my first poster-sized experiment with this equipment. Can tracing be considered art? I don't know, but I like the result. It's from a 1950 era photo of Los Angeles.