Friday night. How do I even
begin to describe it? It wasn’t
awe-inspiring. Nothing awesome or bad or
scary happened. Nothing exciting took
place. All I can say is, it rained.
The night that 120 youth and I walk 25 kilometers on the side of
the road is the very same night that it rains.
Of course it would work out like that.
Whyyyy was I walking on the side of the road with 120 kids, you
ask? Honestly, I don’t really know
why. Every year the Catholic Youth
Organization holds a weekend festival honoring the Virgin Mary. And every year the people that live outside
of Paita walk from their towns to the city.
For us, that meant 25 kilometers, which is about 15 miles. Doesn’t sound too horrible, does it? Well, it was.
Let me paint you a picture.
We set out in the Municipality bus around 11:15pm (we were
supposed to leave at 10:00). The bus
dropped us off on the main highway to meet up with the kids from all the
surrounding districts. We waited there
for the rest to arrive. At 12:30, the
last of the groups still hadn’t arrived, and we were growing short on time and
patience. We decided to head out at
12:45pm. So, in the complete and utter
darkness, we started walking. Was it
cold? Absolutely. Did I bring a jacket? Of course not. I only had my hoodie and jeans to keep me
warm (I should have listened to my host mom when she told me to bring a blanket
and some gloves). But, it didn’t seem
like it would be too bad. We were
energetic, we were awake, and we were ready to go!
We hit our first kilometer- cheers! I thought to myself, this isn’t so bad, I can
do this. Only 24 kilometers to go. We made it to the hour mark. Still not terrible, but not as much fun as I
thought it would be. We made it to
Colan, about 2 hours and 6 or so kilometers in.
Finally, we decided to take a short break. We rested on the side of the road for about 15
minutes, then struggled to our feet to continue. I kept hoping for a car to pass that could take
me back to El Arenal and my bed. Plenty
of cars passed, but none of them that would deliver me to my dream. And then in started raining. It NEVER rains in Piura. Surely this is a sign from God that we should
call someone for a ride. Nobody else
seemed to agree with me. Then, after
what seems like days since we started walking, we hit 4:30 in the morning. Everyone keeps telling me, “Just a little bit
more. We’re almost there. We’re so close!” Liars.
Every.single.one.of.them. We were
NOT almost there. It was NOT just around
the corner. We make it to a factory that
I know is still a good 3-4 kilometers outside of town, and I think I’m going to
lose my mind. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I
have to pee, and my entire body aches.
We take a break at the factory, and I immediately fall asleep in the
dirt and rocks on the side of the road.
When I’m jostled awake 7 minutes later, I don’t think I can get up. I don’t want to keep going. I want to be a baby and quit and wait until
morning when someone can take me home.
But my kids won’t let me quit. So
I begrudgingly get up and start walking again.
Then I’m hit with a burst of energy, and I start running. I drag my friend Edson along and we run for a
couple minutes. We’re far ahead of the
rest of the group, and it feels good. We’d
been the very last ones all night, so the change of scenery is welcome. We keep walking and what we think is a decent
pace, and all of the sudden we hear people talking. What!
They’re right behind us. How did
this happen? I could have sworn we were
practically flying. Guess not. Guess we were slower than we thought. Eventually, we find ourselves at the back of
the crowd, yet again. Deliriously, we
trek on. 5:45- the sun is starting to
peek over the horizon, and I see the “WELCOME TO PAITA” sign up in the distance. Hallelujah!
Praise God that we are almost there.
Another 15 minutes and we reach our destination. 6:03am is the exact minute that I collapsed
to the ground in exhaustion and elation.
A magical truck with little fairy elves
flew up and showered us with coffee and sandwiches for breakfast. One of the fairies gave me a blanket made of
unicorn hair and covered me with it. I
fell asleep on a bed of purple grass.
I was jolted awake much too soon.
The stadium, our ultimate destination, was finally open. We walked across the street, used the
restroom, brushed our teeth, and tried to feel as human as possible. We sat in the stands and waited for the big
event to take place. We were greeted by
two nuns and a guitar. Ok, it didn’t
seem likely, but there was still a chance that this could be cool. But it wasn’t. The nuns couldn’t even sing. And they didn’t know how to play the
guitar. I can’t even describe my
disappointment. Now, I’m not knocking on
Jesus music- I know and love a lot of great songs about Jesus. And that is what I was expecting- something
upbeat, fun, joyful, something to wake me up and get me ready for the day. But that’s not what I got. I got two nuns, strumming wrong chords on a
guitar, singing off-pitch and depressing songs.
I walked all night for this? At
least the morning was salvaged by some delicious quaker and another sandwich.
After about an hour and a half of the singing nuns, my kids were
pretty fed up. We were all tired,
hungry, smelly, and irritable. We
decided to check out early and head to the church to pay our respects, and then
scoot ourselves on home. So we walked,
another hour, to the church. We sat, we
prayed, we paid our respects. Then we
went to the park across the street to wait for our Municipality’s bus to come
pick us up. 10:00am. We wait for 30 minutes, certain that the bus
will be there any time. 11:00am rolls
around- still no bus. 11:30-
nothing. Noon- still nothing. I wander around to the store and buy some
stuff to waste time. 12:30- nope. 1:00pm- what the hell! Still.no.bus. The kids are getting irritated, and I’ve been
irritated since about 2:00am last night.
Fiiiiinally, around 1:30, the bus shows up!! We’re all elated! We run to the bus and jump in! We’re ready to go- except for the fact that
the bus seats about 20, and we are 35.
Oh well, we’ll deal. Now all we
need to do is reverse out of this space and move forward. But the bus won’t reverse. Are you kidding me? We waited 3 ½ hours for the bus and now we
can’t even get out of our parking spot?!
The boys had to get out and push the bus from the front in order for us
to be able to switch gears and move forward.
Now, we’re in the middle of the Plaza the whole time this is happening,
so we are creating quite the spectacle.
Everyone is watching, and my kids are mortified. I, of course, can’t keep from laughing. Finally, we’re out of the space, the boys are
crammed back in the bus, and we’re ready to go.
We roll around the corner and are on our way- or so we
thought. We turn onto a narrow street
with the intention of turning right on the next street. Except the next street is one-way, and it’s
not going the way we want. No big- we’ll
just turn left. Nope. The bus can’t make the turn. So the only choice we have left is to reverse
down the street and go another way. But
there are cars and mototaxis behind us and we can’t move. In fact, there were 8 blocks worth of cars
and trucks and motorcycles and mototaxis behind us, and none of them are
happy. I felt like I was in New York
during rush hour. People are yelling,
drivers are getting out of their cars, everyone is honking. It was quite the sight to see. Finally, after about 20 minutes of yelling
and apologizing and some slick maneuvering, we have successfully reversed and
are back on the road. So, we’re truckin’
along, trying to find the road that takes us out of town. But we can’t find it. The one we want to use is blocked off for the
Procession, and the other one is under construction. We are trapped. We try about 10 different routes, along the
way colliding with a mototaxi and damaging its tire along with our bus. We have been going in circles for about 30
minutes now. Finally, we come back around to the Plaza and the road we want
is now open! Thank goodness! We’re on our way!
For about 7 minutes, until we stop at the market to “quickly pick
up some pop to drink.” Nothing in Peru
happens quickly. After another 30
minutes of sitting in the sun on an un-moving bus, sweating our butts off, we’re
finally on our way. And another 30
minutes later, we make it to El Arenal.
I have never been so happy to see my little town in the entire time I’ve
lived here. The bus drops me off just
below my house, and I don’t think I can climb the little hill to make it to my
door. But I do make it. And then I shower, eat a quick lunch, and lay
down for a quick power nap.
Then, 18 hours later, I woke up.
Although I’m grateful for the experience and I made some lasting
memories, I will never EVER participate in the Caminata again as long as I live.
Especially if it rains.
“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”--Unknown
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