Alex has gone back to the states and I am once again flying solo in Peru Colca Canyon
Worth noting, in the interim however, is that I made my first two sarcastic jokes in Spanish this evening, of which I’m quite proud. I spent the last month communicating primarily in English and have made my personal goal for the next three months, besides eating as many mangos as possible, is to work on my lagging Spanish language skills.
Luckily, I was given a wonderful opportunity for lingual growth today. It was my host brother Noel’s birthday, so I accompanied my host family to Noel and his wife’s house in a neighboring town. There’s nothing like a group of drunk, happy people, with whom I’m comfortable (and a little alcohol for myself) to facilitate language learning.
I’d also like to share a story on one of the two patient visits that I did today. I haven’t blogged much about the work that I’m doing with Awamaki, but I would like to begin and today would be a great introduction to one of the individuals that I visit on a regular basis.
My first visit of the day was to N, a wonderful, slightly eccentric elderly lady who has no use of her legs and limited hearing. This spunky woman whose eyes have a mischievous sparkle speaks a semi-coherent mixture of Quechua and Spanish and ignores the topics I bring up that she doesn’t feel like talking about (where her hearing disability comes in handy for her). This quality of hers, paired with my poor Spanish skills and non-existent Quechua skills make for interesting interactions. Although, I must note, we usually spend 3-4 hours a week in rapt conversation and never seem to lack for discussion topics. Her favorite subjects to discuss: my ratty hair which she really wants to brush, my holey jeans which she really wants to patch, my skinny figure which she wishes me to enhance, her family (topics good, fun, sad and bad), my family, her physical ailments and the sex-related jokes that she tells just so she can watch my reaction.
N is forever trying to feed me when I visit. Today I arrived around 9 am, just after I finished eating my breakfast at home. She was in the process of eating her breakfast, soup, and of course offered me some. I declined, but when she offered me matte (usually how coca tea is referred to here) I happily accepted. A little white cup was shaken dry and she scooted herself closer to the teapot sitting on the wood-powered stove in the corner of her tiny, one bedroom, dirt-floored hut. I couldn’t help but notice little stones filling the clean-ish white mug as she poured in the green-tinted water. I thought that maybe the tea was already steeping in the pot; hopeful thoughts to make myself feel better about the water’s appearance. She then placed a significant amount of her small stash of instant coffee into my cup with her dirt-covered fingers. I watched, cringing slightly as she selected two heaping spoonfuls from her sugar bowl, stirred, tasted, and went back for another large spoonful of sugar. The resulting concoction sat in my lap for a few minutes as I trepidatiously sniffed the hot black-ish liquid waiting for it to cool. I managed a few sips before needing a break. I love sweets, but saturated sugar water with a bitter coffee aftertaste isn’t my cup of tea. I did the best I could while N looked on, practically heckling me to drink faster so she could make herself tea since that was the only cup she owned.
I drank about a quarter of it before telling her that I was incapable of drinking the rest quickly and she should help herself because I have coffee at home. She proceeded to show me how it was done by downing the rest in less than 15 seconds.
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