K.B.log: July Through September

We Went to Santa Eulalia Again

Julio and Maureen invited us for a weekend up the Rimac River canyon to the little hamlet of Santa Eulalia. This time, they had the use of a friends vacation house up there and we merrily joined them and their parents while Julito and Carter ran amok. Set among the pretty gardens was an outdoor pizza oven, so Julio and his father and brother cleaned it up and we had a nighttime pizza bake out under the sky. My Spanish is still limping along, but I was pleased to speak well enough to converse with everyone there and not force them all to English.

Jen Went to Belize

The annual conference for Peace Corps Director of Operations was in Belize City. Of course, a government conference in Belize City is not the same thing as a mai-tai laden sojourn at a beach resort, so Jen made sure to go a day early to spend at least one day at a little 10-room hotel out on a little key (island). Everybody was laid back, when she did not have cash on hand for a boatman, for instance, the hotel said no problem, we'll pay him later. Jen was picked up by a boat in front of her hotel and went out to snorkel the barrier reef. She even snorkeled with rays and nurse sharks.

Jen Went to Panama

And then, because she is being promoted to be a Country Director, she went to their conference in Panama. Jen reports that Panama is beautiful, interesting because Peace Corps volunteers seem to live with true indigenous populations, unlike many other Latin American Peace Corps countries. She got her picture taken with the President of Panama, but also a lady with a tattoo covering half her face.

We Went to Mistura

Salchipapas (hotdogs and frenchfries
cooked together)

Peruvians are rightfully proud of the international attention their cuisine is garnering. Because of that, the annual food fair in Lima, Mistura, has become one of the city's signature events. Jennifer and I joined several people from Jen's office, parking along the chilly strand of beach under the palisades. The fair is an opportunity to try all sorts of new things, though we all gravitated to the things we knew: anticuchos de corazon (beef heart kebabs), cebiche, roast pork. While we have lived in Perú we have witnessed the gradual arrival of craft brewing, so there was even a big beer tent where we were served a nice porter. Sandro got on the big screen as part of a beer tasting and our table won a free round a beer by being rowdy. Later, I did sample some unusual fare. I tried a coffee made in the jungle by first feeding the coffee fruit to little raccoonish animals called coati, then collecting the beans from their poop. "$50 per cup in New York City," the vendor kept saying. This is the Peruvian

Mazamorra Morada (purple corn and
fruit compote with custard)

version of a famous Indonesian coffee method, but I am not sure whether it will catch on here. I also tried tocosh, a milky fermented potato concoction that is super rich in natural penicillin and tastes fine, but you have to get past a smell worse than a sick donkey's stall. I drank a warming cup of cinnamon sacha inchi milk, made from the sacha inchi seed, a superfood with amazing amounts of Omega-3 fatty acids, whatever that means. There were tiny, rare chilis, there were all manner of pisco concoctions, and any number of varieties of Peruvian dry goods. Jen lost her blackberry at some point, but even that had a silver lining since it means she has been able to upgrade, the government now supports iPhones.

I Paid a Bribe

We are generally shielded from the street bribes every motorist faces and I was shocked when I asked my friend Julio how often he gets stopped for a shakedown. It's a lot, particularly on certain stretches of road. But it can happen in other contexts, too. I was caught off guard this week. The well-known agrarian university, where I take Spanish classes, celebrated a big anniversary with a huge procession that closed off half the campus. This forced me to drive to a back gate to get out, but the security lady there would not let me out until I "bought her a soda". It's was a small thing; in days past, I would have considered it an amusing idiosyncrasy of the culture, but no longer, seeing how even this small indignity injures the Peruvian pride of Julio and others like him. That being said, there was something comical about me being trapped in a university by a parade and the security lady rolling her eyes, dangling he key that will unlock the gate and, in effect, saying "Look, do I have to spell it out for you, gringo? You should BUY ME A SODA!"