Chapter 6: Does the Easter Bunny come to Peru?

I sit in the shade under the overhang from the patio above, right outside the kitchen. The sun slants in from above, lighting the inner courtyard of the house in front of me. On the wall opposite me, leading up the open-air stairs, are several dozen handprints made in white and buttery yellow paint, a cheerful and youthful contrast to the austere cement background. Each stair is host to a pretty plant potted in a paint can or an old candy canister with hearts printed on its sides. The stairs lead upstairs to my room, bright with daylight and painted white except for one wall they would call “celeste” – blue – here. All around me, on the ground, filling the industrial work sinks, and on every ledge available, are paintbrushes, rollers, and half-emptied paint jugs of white, yellow, blue, and green. I hear two drippy sinks, one in the courtyard and one in the bathroom, things that will undoubtedly take weeks to be fixed. Good thing no one pays for water here. I sit here and munch on a Moroccan carrot salad and a bowl of simple pasta made by my very own hands in my very own kitchen. I have officially moved in!

This house – part volunteer residence, part office – will be the home of Awamaki for the next two years. It more than doubles the office space for the growing organization and provides ample hang-out space for our small army of volunteers. It has taken every minute of the past week to spruce up this joint. All the rooms were first sanded (an apparently necessary step for the plaster walls), then primed and painted a variety of bright colors. Peruvians don’t really do subtle. It has been dirtied and now mostly cleaned, and only a few stray pieces of lumber and a petroleum smell from the wood floor stain linger.

At the start of this week, my nesting instincts set in, and I promptly neglected the rest of my duties, trading in email for a paintbrush. Each day has started and ended here, and the blisters on my hands are proof. My reward made it well worth it though, and I said chao to my family and spent my first night here on Sunday. I was very sad – sadder than I thought - to leave my family, but they live just right around the corner, so I know I will see them often. I am already invited on Sunday for a “girls afternoon” for my sister Eliana’s birthday.

Semana Santa – or Holy Week – is this week, and although there haven’t been celebrations the likes of those in Spain, processions each night march from the central Plaza to the church, following the religious/mystical dolls/relics enshrined in glass cases and surrounded by cheap carnations. The brand of Catholicism here is very interesting and worlds away from the Catholicism practiced in the Cathedral of our Lady of the Rosary in Duluth. All homes are topped with either a cross or a pair of ceramic bulls to protect those within. Inside the homes, calendars and posters of the creepiest looking Jesus I’ve ever seen cover the walls. This Jesus is not the white-skinned, gentle-faced Good Shepherd we see in the US. He is almost always crowned with thorns, blood dripping down his face, and his eyes either rolled back gruesomely in his head, or colored red, appearing almost demonic. At religious festivals here, the dolls/relics are carried around, dances are done, and signs of the cross made over chests are common. But alongside these, the chicha (homemade corn beer) flows strongly and the last sip or so is sent spilling to the ground, “for Pachamama” – “Mother Earth.” The population piously does not believe in divorce. Instead, couples live together (in wedlock) for several years, having children and building a life together, until finally around the age of 45 they wed. And these are only examples. The synthesis of Catholicism and the traditional mysticism that was practiced hundreds of years ago before missionaries came is perfectly evident in almost all parts of the culture here.

The week will top out with “Doce Platas” – or “Twelve Plates” – on Good Friday, and Mass early Sunday morning. I have tried explaining the Easter Bunny to my family here and this bizarre description was met with only looks of confusion. Perhaps if they had plastic eggshells here they would understand better…

In the meantime, I will be doing the trek to Lares and the mineral springs there starting early tomorrow morning (again). I wouldn’t normally do a trek twice, but nearly all the volunteers are going, and there are mineral springs at the end for gosh’s sake! Who would pass that up?! Also, I have reached my half-way point here and I CANNOT BELIEVE IT. In certain ways, the time has absolutely flown and I get this panicky feeling whenever I think about leaving. In others, I can’t wait until I have access to goat cheese and a stable Internet connection again! When I return in the first week of June, I will spend about two weeks at home, celebrating Trisha’s graduation and watching my dad and Kaitlin run Grandma’s Half Marathon! If I had half a brain I would start training here and beat their butts when I get down out of the altitude (Ollantaytambo is situated at 9500 ft), but I probably won’t. ☺ After that, I’m off to spend the glorious summer in Chicago!!! (yep, here that Allison, Megan, Liz, and Nikki? I’m moving in! Or if not that, at least somewhere close…) I get tingles just thinking about it.

Thinking of and missing everyone! I love you all!