"You Aren´t In Kansas Anymore"

Although things are going surprisingly well down here in Peru, I’ve found myself being hit with waves of homesickness over the past few days.  Some waves are bigger than others, but they all leave me feeling a little sad and nostalgic.  Today as I was walking back to my house from a 2 hour “sit and think” session at the river I was especially down and missing home.  I was on the phone with Brielle (as usual, when I have service), and I abruptly hung up saying, “I gotta go.  There is a mob of children running towards me yelling my name! BYE!”  No sooner had I hung up the phone than 25 little grimy hands engulfed me.  I was walking up the steps and every single one of us almost fell to our deaths because they just would not let go of me.  They were screaming, and yelling, and laughing; all the while trying to hug me and plant kisses all over my face.  The parents standing around us watched in disbelief and a bit of caution.  I, of course, was hysterically laughing at the absurdity of it all.  And the funniest thing about this situation was not that people were falling down stairs and crying because they were laughing so hard; but the fact that this had happened before- numerous times.  In fact, this same scene takes place every time I encounter a group of five or more children.  And every single time I am reminded of why I’m here.  I’m here to make a difference, no matter how small, in at least one person’s life.  Although I have a ways to go before I’ll see any dramatic changes, I know that I’m on the right track when the kids ask me if I can be their aunt or their sister, or even their mother.  I know I am doing something right when their trusting hearts tell me that they love me and never want me to leave.  When I stop to think about these things, it is then that I realize that I can’t go home- not yet.  As much as I miss home and I want to be among friends and family, there are things keeping me here- and it’s not just work.  How could I want to leave a place where children’s adoring faces bombard me every time I step outside my house?  How could I not want to be in a place where I have one of the most spectacular views I’ve ever seen? 

Dorothy said it best when she dreamily tapped her heels together and whispered, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”  How right she was- there will never be any place like Kansas.  But what she didn’t say was that there could be other places that offer different experiences than home.  The whole time Dorothy was in Emerald City her mind was set on finding her way home- and I don’t blame her- Kansas is God’s Country ;).  But while she was there she also realized the beauty and magic that lay all around her.  Her eye was not blind to the enchanting wonders of Oz.  Although she always knew she wanted to go back to Kansas, she didn’t let her love for home get in the way of enjoying the marvels of this new place.  For this, I’d like to follow Dorothy’s example.  I love home and I love all the people that are there, but I can’t let that love get in the way of experiencing this new way of life.  I have to embrace the Peace Corps and all of its ups and downs, and learn to love this country.  I guess it’s true what they say, “You aren't in Kansas anymore.”

Because of this sudden realization that my life here isn’t all bad, I’ve decided to put in writing all of the things I love about my life here in Peru.  Some of them are places, people, or things; others are thoughts, realizations, or emotions; some you’ll understand and others are things that only I can understand; yet they are all things that help me get through the tough times.

Alysa, Amir, and Kenya.  Getting to know other Volunteers.  The view.  The sun.  The mountains.   Improving my Spanish.  My girls in Arenal.  Selene.  Vianca.  Growing personally.  Becoming more independent.  “Hello Miss Kelsey!”  “Como se dice  (anything) en ingles?”  Pancitos.  The mystery drink I down every morning.  “Me entiendes? Que te dije?”-Selene.  The river.  My “private” beach.  Fighting hand motions with my host mom every time I leave the house.  My cement slab.  Phone dates.  Phone calls from home.  Phone calls from other Volunteers.  Letters and care packages.  My primaria students.  “Despues de dos anos, voy a ser negrita.”  The roof of Costa Bella.  Soft Lips.  Skype sessions.  Pillow talk.  Moto taxis (sometimes).  The Tri-Fec-Duh (I know it’s spelled wrong).  Juanita, otherwise known as Big J or Fuerte.  Hour long walks along the canal.  Brielle.  “Wouldn’t it be awesome?”  Cold showers on hot days.  Richard.  Dancing.  Drinking circles.  Kyle.  Bailes.  Aniversarios.  PJ.  My wall of pictures.  The freezer that no one but me uses.  Hand-washing my clothes.  Organizing my iTunes.  FreeCell.  Never wearing make-up.  “Can you gift me your hair?”  I Heart Peas Core.  My mosquito net that makes me feel like a princess.  The chance to read as many books as I can get my hands on.  Stories from home.  Looking forward to family and friends visiting.  Sunglass man.  Rosita.  The market.  Seeing any given type of livestock roam the streets on any given day.  Reflection.  My journal.  Karaoke flashbacks.  Time to think (sometimes too much time).  The mysteries of this country.  The chance to see as many of those mysteries as I can.  Pizza Hut.  Rereading cards from home.  Jessica.  Not giving up.  Water lady.  Gifts from my primaria kids.  “Kelsey, no te vayas. Nunca.”  The Peruvian whine.  La hora Peruana when I accidentally oversleep.  Shorts during the day, hoodie at night.  The panaderia right next to Costa Bella.  New friends.  Old friends.  The feeling of pride I sometimes let myself get when I think about what I’m doing.  Songs on repeat.  Being changed.  Constantly being amazed.  Opening my eyes.  Being bombarded by children.  New experiences.  New food.  Alone time.  Feeling awesome when someone tells me my Spanish is improving.  Cheap Converse All-Stars.  Knock-off everything.  Creepy mannequins at every store.  Chapstick.  Fulfilling a dream.  Learning new words and phrases.  Learning about the people of Arenal.  Learning about myself.  Setting goals.  Accomplishing goals.  Nicknames.  Neighbs.  The simplicity of life.  Public transportation.  Walking.  Running.  Sencillo.  Looking at the rice fields and marveling at their beauty.  Dawson’s Creek seasons 1-6.  Not feeling guilty about taking time for myself.  Naps.  Kelly.  Day trips.  Planning for the future.  Not worrying about the future.  My office at the Municipality.  Monday nights.  Inside jokes.  Inside jokes in Spanish.  Becoming more comfortable here every single day.  The opportunities I have.  Snackies.  When people actually understand what I’m saying.  Paita.  Not having a 9-5 job.  Not worrying about bills.  The fact that every person in town notices when I change my nail polish color.  Almost every person on the street knows my name and who I am.  “You wore that shirt yesterday? And the day before? Who cares?!”  Actually understanding whole conversations.  The confused look that is permanently plastered on my face.  Tie-dye every day.  Being the guest of honor at almost every event.  Town anniversaries.  “No school or work today, it’s a holiday.”  Piura.  “Does everyone in the United States speak English? Is everyone white like you? Laundry detergent is really expensive, isn’t it?”  Being a Special Olympics bocce ball judge.  Reminding myself that I DO want this.  Listening to every song in my iTunes.  Exploring new television series.  Making a fool of myself every day, and people loving me more for it.  Teaching.  Learning.  Doing.  Not doing.  Relaxing. 

The list really does go on and on.  Some things are trivial and others are deeper and more personal.  The point is, I am learning to love different aspects about my life in Peru and I am glad I’m here.

“Be alert.  Be brave.  Be strong.  Learn a lot.  Reach for your dreams.  Remember to take time to smell the flowers.”
                            -- Liz Friesen (on a cassette tape she gave me in 3^rd grade)