Laundry Day

Do you remember when you were in college (or first lived on your own) and the first time you tried to do laundry? Most likely, you waited until you had no clean underwear left and were forced to visit either the local laundrymat or tackle the chore yourself. Of course, I´m speaking for men simply because I guess women have an endless suppl y of undies. Either way, you had a lot of dirty clothes. You performed your best Santa Claus impression and slung the bag of smelly clothes over your shoulder and headed towards the nearest washing machine. Now imagine yourself in a hot, crowded city walking down the street with that bag. Your back is hunched over to help balance all that weight and sweat is dripping down your face. You´re itching to wipe the sweat off but you´re afraid that if you let go of the bag then all of your momemtum will be lost.

At first I didn´t want to admit to myself that this was happening to me. I´m a 26 year old adult... (at least I think so), I should n´t be putting myself in these types of situations anymore. I knew that someday I would have to deal with the dreaded laundry, but I still put it off until later. I don´t know why, it just happened.

I live in a pretty busy part of Lima called, Chacarilla, which, if you want to compare to something you know... maybe Brookside or Prairie Village in the Kansas City area. (comparable in size). I took my bag and scoped out the closest laundrymat I could find. I walked into the place and immediately they said to me, ¨We can´t wash your clothes... you have too many.¨ They charged per item, and I needed a place that would charge by the kilo. Even though the workers laughed at my situation, as well as my accent, they did give me directions to the nearest place I could take my clothes. So I picked up my bag and walked out to head to the second destination. I finally arrived, gave them my clothes, and asked for the nearest back specialist.

I am on my way to pick up the clothes now. I should inquire about a delivery service... just like I did in college.

-BJM

Return to Lima

…a continuation of my previous post...

The bus ride back from the south of Peru to Lima was pretty good. There was another Bingo game as well as many of the same passengers that joined us on the trip to Chile. However, you’ll never guess what movies we watched on the return trip… if you’re thinking of the movie, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, then you’re just cynical and only want bad things to happen to me on this trip. But if you’re thinking that another round of Enemy of the State and The Punisher were in order, then you’re right. I won’t waste too much time talking about the movies, however, if you haven’t checked them out yet I would recommend a date night with The Punisher. Then, if you have time, Snakes on a Plane – another under appreciated masterpiece.

As I mentioned before, the bus ride was comfortable. I had plenty of space for myself and they served dinner and breakfast the following day. Despite these luxuries, it was still a bus. Lucia and I had the good fortune to sit in front of a woman who didn’t quite do so well. During the night she managed to throw up for about 3 hours, non-stop. After the second hour I really stopped feeling disgusted and just wondered if her life was in danger after losing that much fluid. The poor woman kept going in and out of the bathroom, which, I’m sure felt more like a carnival ride rather than a smooth bus trip.

After at least 30 minutes of downtime to let the bathroom air out a bit, I felt it was safe enough to enter, with caution of course. The bathroom door swings out, so to open it you must pull. Also, there was an “occupied” light that shines bright red if someone was in the bathroom and has locked the door. All signs were clear for me to enter, so I opened the door and, naturally, there was a woman using the bathroom. Shit!

I should have just kept watching The Punisher. Embarrassing is an understatement. Instead of trying to find my seat, I was trying to find the exit to the bus. I can’t imagine what the woman was feeling. Of course after she exited the bathroom I made no eye contact and purposely stayed away from her the rest of the trip. I felt it was the best thing for the both of us. Also, I stayed away from the bathroom for the rest of the trip.

All in all the trip was worth it. I did what I needed to do (legally speaking) to remain in good standing with the immigration office and we had some fun. If you've got some time, and little money, the bus services are definitely worth it.

-BJM

Chile!!!!!

This weekend Lucia and I traveled to Chile. I had a couple days off from work in honor of Holy Week, so I thought I would take advantage of it to do a little traveling. Plus, I needed to travel outside the country to obtain my work visa anyway so I used the two days off to fulfill this function.

I chose Chile based on convenience and price. It was the fastest and cheapest option of any foreign excursion, and based on my current salary those two factors are very important. Cruz Del Sur, a great bus service here in Peru, took Lucia and I to the Southern-most city in Peru, Tacna. I bought a round-trip ticket for about $75, which, included breakfast, dinner, and great service for a 20-hour bus ride. And my favorite part of the bus ride – the movies – we watched four movies on the way to Tacna. Enemy of the State, Shooter, Underclassman, and The Punisher. What a line-up of movies – Will Smith, Mark Walberg, Nick Cannon, and some dude that played the Punisher – unforgettable. They were so unforgettable that we actually watched The Punisher twice. I know what you’re thinking – LUCKY. Exactly. By the way, they were dubbed in Spanish... even better!

Wait, there’s another perk when riding this bus – Bingo! If you were lucky enough to win the bus bingo game then you would receive your ride free of charge. However, Lucia and I weren’t paying attention while the attendant was reading the instructions, so we inadvertently shouted “BINGO” when I thought I had won. But, if we had listened at the beginning we would have known that you don’t win unless your whole card has been called – yes, about 30 minutes of B25, I38, N44, G73, O22 before someone could shout a legitimate ‘Bingo’.


We arrived to Tacna not knowing exactly how we were to cross the border into Chile. I met two surfers from New Zealand who were also in the same predicament. They said they were going to take the train, but it was going to be a slow ride, probably another 3 hours. I told them maybe, but maybe not. Surprisingly, we didn’t have to walk very far before 12 guys approached us saying “Arica, Arica, Arica, Aricaaaaaaaa”. Okay, I guess they can take us to Arica, Chile. We talked to one of the guys for a while and he convinced us that it was a safe ride to Arica… he would even take us to our hotel. We made the deal, paid the money, signed a form and we were off to Arica in a very appropriate ride - an early 90’s, grey Ford Taurus. I started to have flashbacks of sophomore year in High School driving around South Kansas City in Jerry Miller’s Taurus – sweet. I think the only difference between then and now was the music… Smashing Pumpkins and Dave Mathews versus Peruvian Reggae Tone and Salsa… hmmm.


We crossed the border quite smoothly; I think the baggage check guys might have been taking their mid-morning nap because they barely even noticed us as we walked through the metal detectors with all of our bags. We arrived to Arica, formerly part of Peru, but taken by Chile a little over 100 years ago, and we noticed that nothing is open. It was similar to a ghost town. It looked like the only thing that was open was a small restaurant near the beach and McDonalds. Since I feel nauseous every time I eat McDonalds (no offense to 99% of my friends) we chose the Chilean restaurant. We took advantage of the calm atmosphere and laid around the beach for a while, walked a lot, and took pictures of the war monuments placed all over the small city.

The following day we woke up early knowing that we had to go back to Peru in the late afternoon. We decided that the huge cliff that we noticed the previous day needed to be hiked. After a jumping a few fences and climbing through some make-shift gates we found the route to the top. It took a while, but we managed to hike up the side of the big hill/small mountain until we reached the peak. Supposedly, as legend has it, a Peruvian soldier, riding his horse, was chased by Chilean soldiers up this same hill carrying the Peruvian flag. He planted the flag on top of the hill/mountain before he was forced to jump off the cliff, along with his horse, committing suicide. Today, in that same place stands a Chilean flag that looks over all of Arica… along with a huge statue of Jesus. Under the statue is a plaque that reads – “Por la razon o la fuerza”. (for the reason or the force). Sounds like something Jesus would say for sure.

You can also find a small museum at the top of this cliff, who knew? You can check out the pictures to see some of the museum, but there was one interesting piece that I would like to share. The museum displayed a copy of the Chilean war campaign to occupy Lima.
The last part, under strategies and objectives it reads – “Ocupar Capital para imponer la paz”. Occupy the capital, Lima, to push (or impose) the peace. I was not proud when I immediately associated this logic to the American military philosophy in the previous years.

Anyway, unfortunately I have to cut this story short (it’s too long anyway)… TO BE CONTINUED MAÑANA. I love you…….

pictures - http://picasaweb.google.com/bjmyp6

-bjm

When are we turning around?

5am. Saturday Morning. 4 Peruvians. 1 American. 30 Kilometers. Done. Well, not so much.

In January I visited Larcamar, a small tourist district of Lima, which sits next to the ocean. I took this picture from the top of one of the cliffs near the shore looking towards a small peninsula about 15 kilometers away. (about 9 miles). At the time I thought to myself, “Self, wow, what a view.” I was of course talking about the ocean-front view, not of the dying, pink flowers in the foreground.

I had the opportunity, once again, to take in this view last Saturday morning. However, this time I wasn’t a tourist trying to catch the sunset, I was part of a Peru Running Club training for the marathon here in Lima next month. When I say – “once again take in the view”, I really mean that if the sun had actually risen at this point in the day it would have been a good view. It was so early in the morning that I actually ran passed a restaurant of people still enjoying their Friday night… I don’t know which group was crazier – I’ll go with the runners club.

So, to give you a little history first, earlier last week I was speaking with a fellow teacher who had heard that I enjoy running from time to time. He said that I should join him this Saturday for a long run around Miraflores here in Lima. I said, “Oh, great, I would love that.” This is where it gets a little fishy. He told me that the run was 20 kilometers, which, for me is a long run. I would barely be able to make 20 kilometers (11 or 12 miles). However, I always know that when I’m with a new group, trying to show off a little, that my adrenaline is pumping and that would probably help me finish the 20K. I agreed and we arranged the time and place to meet his running group. First mistake.

5:30am on Saturday morning arrives with some great weather. I was getting excited and nervous. I met my friend, Marco, at the starting point and we began around 6am. 5 runners in total… a small group, I thought. We started at an annoyingly slow pace – so slow that I felt like walking. But, our route was along the coast so the ocean breeze felt great, and I figured that once the sun came up it would be a beautiful view. We continued the fast walking for about 20 minutes, then, without words everyone increased the pace to a slow jog. At this point I’m thinking, come on people, let’s start running. Well, at kilometer 5 we took a quick bathroom break at a gas station then increased the pace to a steady jog – more of my style.

Two of the group members are very experienced marathon runners. They begin to run a little faster, which is more of my pace – … if we were running a 5K. I am trying to show off so I agree to join the faster group. The fast group is a good one, I’m happy to be in the fast group, we’re cool. Second mistake.

We kept the pace for about 30 minutes, then for 45 minutes. Okay, I’m starting to get a little fatigued at this point. We’ve been running, what feels to me to be a 7-minute per mile pace, for about 45 minutes… all in the same direction along the coast. I finally asked the guy in the group, when are we turning around? He points to a spot along the beach, which I’m familiar with… the peninsula (remember – “self, wow, what a view”). I cough a few times and they laugh at me and ask me, “How are you feeling?” “Are you going to make it?”. But, I’ve translated this for you, they asked me in Spanish, and my oxygen-deprived brain couldn’t comprehend Spanish at that point so I asked them to repeat, por favor.

After I come to terms with how far we’re running I told them that I want to slow down. But there’s a problem, I don’t know the route. Okay, I told them that I would wait for the slow group to catch up and just run with them. They said, “Oh, the slow group doesn’t run this far, they’ve already turned around and are heading back.” Okkaaaayyyyy. After I heard this news the two runners actually convinced me that it’s not that much farther before we turn around and that I might as well keep going. I oblige and continue running farther away from my former life… a life without leg cramps. Third mistake.

We finally reached our half-way point and I asked them how far we had gone. He responded with a smooth, “15 kilometers”. Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee……
I couldn’t keep up with the pace any longer and I had to bow-out of the fast group. I was no longer cool. Actually, I was so slow that I probably wouldn’t be considered part of the slow group. I was thinking about the beginning of the run when we were running so slow that I felt like walking… well, it’s not so annoying anymore. In fact, at kilometer 25, I felt so happy to be walking that I dreamed about the next logical step – sitting. So that’s what I did, I took a taxi for 3 soles ($1) back to our starting point. My pride took quite a hit when I rolled up to the parking lot in a taxi as everyone is just sitting, stretching, and of course talking about me. I told my new Peruvian friends a sincere thank you… thank you for reminding me to bring some money with me just in case I couldn’t make it. They were very kind with me telling me that I did the smart thing, and that there’s no need to push my body passed its limits. Duh, I said, as I struggle to touch my knees while stretching.

Some time soon I will visit Larcamar again. It’s a great place to watch a movie, eat at some great restaurants, and generally it’s a good atmosphere for walking around/hanging out. Of course I won’t remember Larcamar for that one Saturday that I conquered the spontaneous marathon. Rather, I will remember how smart I was to bring at least 3 soles with me so I wouldn’t have to run any farther - That decision, alone, made up for the three prior mistakes. What a view.

Four Eyes, ha

A few weeks ago I came to the realization that I am in need of some kind of phone. My sole means of spoken communication up to this point has been Skype, the incredible Internet communication software that lets you call phones, computers, or cell phones anywhere in the world for free or next to nothing. I’ve become an expert at Skype ever since I started dating my girlfriend, whom, if you don’t know already, is Peruvian. Since I’ve been in Peru I’ve utilized Skype to call everyone – family, friends, and even places here in Lima. However, I’ve noticed one flaw with my Skype communication method – I need my laptop. So, let’s say I take a Combi (small bus here in Lima) to La Punta, which happens to be an hour outside of Lima and is a very dangerous place for a lonely Gringo like myself, and I need a way to communicate with someone… I can’t bring my laptop with me. (Yes, I’m implying that I accidentally traveled in a Combi for an hour to the wrong part of town – think, Clark Griswold in East St Louis, “Uh, excuse me holmes, we’re from out of town.” “No shit”.).

I researched a few options, but while I was doing my research an interesting conflict revealed itself to me – it costs a lot of money to call someone who uses a different cell phone provider. I could sign up for the $20/month plan with Nextel, but if I needed to call someone that uses Movistar or Claro I would start the meter around $1.99/minute. This absolutely ridiculous revelation finally gave me some clarity as to why I see most people with two cell phones. People have realized it actually costs them less money to have two cell phones than to call everyone from just one device.

If you know me at all, you know that I was a little late on the whole cell phone phenomenon, and my family was even later – I purchased my very first cell phone when I was a senior in college, 2005… I was 22 years old. My parents acquired their first cell phones in 2008, so The Meaghers aren’t exactly up-to-date on this whole cell phone thing (sorry mom and dad, I love you). So, despite my hereditary deficiency with cell phone usage, I finally bought a Nextel. Lucia owns a Nextel so the obvious solution was to get one as well. It’s good enough to call the people that I need to call, and for everyone else out there, sorry, but I’m not paying two bucks a minute to talk to you… send me an email, or a memo. What am I talking about… I talk to Lucia and maybe a few people from work, who am I kidding?

Speaking of Lucia, she recently got a new job at Movistar in the marketing department. Movistar is another cell phone provider here in Peru – so, in other words, my girlfriend gets a job at a cell phone company… you might be able to imagine what happens next. Lucia drops her Nextel plan because Movistar gives her a free phone (a cool one too) and gives her free cell phone service. What, I’m screwed – damn you cell phones, will I ever win?

So now who am I going to call with my Nextel? Why do I need this Nextel? If you were to ever look at my cell phone bill you would see 99% of the calls going to Lucia’s number. Loser. I didn’t know what to do next, I already signed up for a 6-month plan with Nextel, but then, Lucia came to the rescue. She was able to get me a free phone and free plan with Movistar. Now I can talk for free again, but this new opportunity has caused me to do something that I hate – be ‘that guy’ with two cell phones. Yes, it’s true… So, if you see me on the street, I give you permission to call me names, make fun of me on G-Chat to your friends, and even call me “Four Eyes” (even though I don’t wear glasses anymore). I’m thinking that life was much simpler without all these cell phones. Maybe the Meagher hereditary deficiency is actually a blessing in disguise. The world gets too confusing with all this technology. Keep it simple, thanks mom and dad.

-BJM

R.L Stine, Adventure Woods, and Morning Beers

Exchange City is a great way to offer fifth grade students the opportunity to perform duties found in common careers - policemen, firemen, businessmen, restaurant owners, etc. Essentially, EC creates a mini city for one day for a particular group of students. When I had the distinguished opportunity to attend this magical city for a day back in 1994, I was chosen as the Post Office Treasurer; probably the most boring of all the jobs offered at EC. In fact, I was so embarrassed by this job that when other fellow Exchange Citians asked me what my job was I told them, without hesitation, "Have you read the new Goosebumps book? R.L. Stine is one of the greatest authors of our time. Am I right?" The usual response that followed was a "huh", which gave me plenty of time to get back to the Post Office where I was safe from ridicule.

Once I got into high school the pressure was turned up a bit when we attended Adventure Woods. I'm sure many of you have attended this place where not only your team work and leadership abilities were put to the test, but more importantly your physical abilities were exposed as being inadequate and somewhat humorous. If you like to fall backwards with your eyes closed, climb a wall without a rope, or try to fit 14 sweaty people on top of a small 2x2x2 foot square then I'm guessing you'll enjoy Adventure Woods.

With these two wonderful experiences in mind, my expectations going into Friday's field trip at Santa Maria were scattered across the board. I was thinking of my old field trips at Exchange City and Adventure Woods, but I was also intrigued by the opportunity of experiencing a school sponsored trip in a foreign country. I've heard stories about service trips to exotic jungle towns and even a week service project at Machu Picchu, so I wasn't quite sure what to expect.
Once I got word of the place - the beach - then all I had left to figure out was the agenda. We would be taking the whole freshmen class on this trip (about 100 students), along with 8 teachers including myself. I was trying to imagine team-building activities on the beach, or even individual spiritual development in the presence of the vast oceanfront.

So, Friday morning comes and I confirm that I have the two most important items for the beach - my SPF 1,000 sun screen and my Dora the Explorer beach towell. All the freshmen line up in front of school around 8am patiently awaiting the arrival of the 4 buses that will transport us to our destination. The buses arrive, we drive to the beach which is about an hour away, and finally get to our destination to start the day.

Half of the students immediately run to the ocean and start body boarding. The other half make themselves comfortable next to the pool, which is next to the bar, which is where I find all of my fellow professors already settled in for the day. I walk over to the other teachers and say in my best Spanish, "Well, what now?" They tell me to, "...sit down, relax, have a cold one, and enjoy the benefits of a Santa Maria field trip."

My first thought is, cold one? Really? It's 9am in the morning people. Does working at Santa Maria bring your spirits down so much that the only thing that will help is, well, spirits? I give them a polite, "Gracias, pero, no gracias." and continue to veg-out on the beach until 11:30. 11:30 is special because its the only scheduled event of the day - the teachers versus students water polo game. Talk about mismatch. I felt like Michael Scott on The Office getting his sales team fired up to play the warehouse guys at the DunderMifflin basketball game. We lost before we even stepped foot into the pool, but it was a good chance for my skin to feel the rath of the sun so I guess there was some kind of benefit.

As the day came to an end, and the student's comments about my ever-changing skin color were increasing, I felt like I had successfully experienced my first field trip as a teacher. We loaded everyone on the buses around 4pm and headed home.

If I think about my experiences with Exchange City, Adventure Woods, and now the Peru Beach Excursion I can think of many similarities and differences. I couldn't begin to rank them though, that might be asking too much. Each destination offers its own learning experiences and memorable moments, even if some of those experiences are at the expense of my own ego. Every opportunity is a chance to learn something new, so no matter what opportunity I am presented with next, I will try to represent all Post Office Treasurers to the best of my ability.

I miss you. You know who you are.

-BJM

Almost official

Well, I moved into the new place on Saturday. This means that I'm almost an official Peruvian. I think the only thing left to do is have the initiation ceremony, which, I 've heard involves the official Peruvian hairless dog - Doggy. We'll see how it goes.

You can check out some pictures from the new place if you click the slideshow to the left.

I got extremely lucky and got a place right next to my work. The building has five floors, with five apartments - mine being the top floor. I'm not quite sure how to describe this apartment. Some parts, like the kitchen, are incredibly scary. But other parts, like the living room and balcony, are absolutely incredible.

The interesting part about this apartment is that it is open to the elements. My bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are covered by a normal ceiling and roof. However, the hallway to get from my bedroom to the kitchen... or from the kitchen to the living room... or from the front door to anywhere is open to the elements. Meaning that there is no roof, just a wall about chest high. I think the pictures describe it better than I can.

People, places, things… and cultural differences.

Lima is a fairly large city, with the population ranging somewhere from 7 to 9 million people. The other day I heard someone at school say there are 12 million people living in Lima, so who knows. By American standards most of the people are poor, myself included. For example, I work at a school, which is considered to be one of the wealthier schools in Lima and Peru, but by US standards I make less than the minimum wage. However, I understand I'm living in a completely different culture, so making those types of comparisons may not be fair.

For instance - tipping. At a restaurant, if I've had a good meal with excellent service then I think at least a 15 percent tip is in order. This is probably due to the fact that I was a waiter in college and maybe I'm somehow making up for all those horrible tips I've received over the years. Whatever the reason, my tipping strategy in Peru is considered to be "showing off" or too "American" because my concept of tipping is completely different from that of Peruvians. This might be a gross generalization, but in Peru it is normal to tip about 2 or 3 percent.

I’ve also found that I’m forced into giving a tip at times, even when I don’t feel it’s necessary. For example, if I happen to be driving (or riding in a car with Lucia… or someone from work) we can stop at most stoplights and find street performers. Simply put, these are people that do semi-impressive stunts while the light is red – juggling, acrobatics, flame throwers, or just simply a good ole’ cartwheel… or on a good day, somersaults. They have timed their “performance” just right so that they have enough time to impress the audience of impatient drivers as well as walk around to collect a tip for the forced entertainment.

Another example, which can be found all over the world and is not limited to Lima, is when people come up to your car and just start washing your windshield. First of all, you don’t want them touching your car, and second, the towel they’re using is so dirty that the result is actually worse than when they first started. And if you’re really lucky, he’ll be cleaning your window with today’s newspaper, seriously. I can’t help but laugh when that happens… I think I’ll start carrying a towel, newspaper, or used handkerchief around with me; and when I’m walking to and from work I’ll earn a few extra bucks washing the windshields of all the cars on my route. (By the way, just thinking out loud here; handkerchiefs - your snot is transferred from your nose to your pocket. Think about it… if you or someone you know suffers from this bizarre practice, please know that you’re not alone and there is help out there for you).

And finally, the most unnecessary of all tip-mongers: the “parking-spot-towel-waving-man”. This man’s sole purpose is to wave you into an open parking spot while whistling, waving a dirty towel at you, and holding his hand out for a tip. Oh, yes, he also guides you while exiting the spot as if he’s your driver’s-ed instructor. If I happen to have something then yes, maybe I’ll tip him. But come on man; he’s like that guy at your work that’s always walking around and you have no idea what he does there – he's just there. He’s that guy, but worse, he’s asking for money.

I guess if I think about it, dealing with these sort of things isn't too much to ask of someone, right? Maybe I should have been a parking-spot-towel-waving-man in college instead of a waiter. I would probably have a greater appreciation for the trade, in all it's intricacies, and as a result tip the men who so kindly guide me into the blatantly obvious, open parking spot. I'll think about it.

-BJM

Negotiating Skills - in a second language

For those of us that don’t have the privilege of owning a vehicle we have a few options to get around the wonderful city of Lima.

:::The combi’s – If you’ve read my previous posts/emails then you know what I’m talking about here – a cheap, adventurous trip in a cramped bus with twice the legal capacity of passengers. It’s good if you’re in the mood to participate in a rugby scrum, on a bus, on the way to work.

:::Walk – I enjoy walking and I use it as my main form of transportation.

:::Taxis – I don’t despise taxis, I just dislike the inevitable conversation that happens every time I get in a taxi. Which is to say they find out my life story before they charge me at least 50 percent more than the normal cab fare. Why are you in Peru? What do you do? Will Barack Obama save the world? The usual.

In Lima, taxi fares are negotiable. You flag down a taxi… or the taxi just follows you slowly as you walk until you turn and give him some attention. After the initial step of choosing the right taxi, here is how a typical conversation goes:

Brian: Hola, buenas tardes.
Taxista: Hola gringo, buenas tardes.

(Already off to a bad start... he's calling me a gringo, or white guy in English, which implies that he's going to overcharge me)

Brian: Conoces Colegio Santa Maria? Esta en Chacarilla.

(Keep in mind, a normal 10-minute taxi ride here in Peru would cost me maybe 1 or 2 dollars.... or 3 to 6/7 Peruvian soles)

Taxista: Si, amigo. Para ti, 12 soles.
Brian: (my response is always the same) Claro, 4?
Taxista: 8
Brian: Ya, OK, vamos.

The word “okay” or O.K. is used as frequently in Spanish as it is in English. And just imagine if the taxista doesn’t know where Colegio Santa Maria is located. However, luckily there is always a taxi waiting behind another negotiating taxi just in case an agreement is not reached. I’ve learned that I’ll get a cheap rate if I mention well known landmarks instead of the specific location; and hopefully as my Spanish improves I’ll be able to negotiate even lower rates. But until then, “Claro, 4?”

Chau chau

-BJM

I have to remind myself I’m the teacher. Weird.

Well, the first day of work came and went without too much trouble. I enjoy my schedule, for the most part, with the exception of Fridays simply because I have 7 classes. On those days, I have little time for lunch, bathroom breaks, or even just to sit and get my head straight before the next batch of teenagers come into the classroom.

The first order of business for all the classes – the rules. I only had a few rules that I wanted everyone to follow, nothing too bad. The seniors listened to the rules, agreed to them, and we moved on with class without a hitch. The freshmen, however, took note of the rules I think simply to figure out different ways to break them. For example, the very first class I had with one group of freshmen was worth noting.

I wanted to test their English level, so we played a pseudo-game in which the students think of a word in English and point to another student in class. That student must use the word in a sentence using the past, present, and future tenses. This just helps me understand what the students already know and what types of things we need to work on this year.

The game is going okay until its time for one of the quieter students to take his turn. First, he describes the word that was assigned to him, then its time for him to choose another word and point to another student to take their turn. However, he quietly says the words, “Female reproductive system” as if he is embarrassed to say it, rightfully so. Of course, the whole class says altogether “What?!?!”. At first, it took me by surprise, so I had to think for a second about what kind of punishment was going to follow, but while I was thinking he said a variation of his previous phrase… he said, “Reproduction”. But this time he gave the class a visual of what he was trying to say by doing 4 and a half pelvic thrusts while saying, “Re-pro-duc-tion”. Of course, the class erupts in laughter, and as a result I have to kick him out of class (but I’m laughing a little on the inside too). It takes a few minutes to get the class back under control, but we go over the rules one more time before I start making them do wall squats*. Just kidding, I would never physically hurt these guys… I only want to scar them emotionally so that I keep haunting them years after they’ve left school. Right?

Anyway, I think I’ll enjoy the senior’s classes. I want to win their trust without being their friend (and thus losing control)… so my first assignment was for them to read an article from the New York Times about the benefits of more recess in school. We’re taking the next couple weeks to discuss, read, and debate the topic of recess and break-time in schools. I have some good ideas and some interesting literature discussing both sides of the argument. If you have any good info on the subject I would love to hear it (for example, a school in the US switched to 4-day school weeks, incredible)… of course the students are all for this, they started to discuss it as they were leaving my class on Friday.

This year should be interesting. The English department has given me freedom to teach what and how I would like, which is a blessing. I will bring my camera to school tomorrow to take some pictures of the school. Updates to follow.

*Wall Squats: Lean up against a wall as if you were on an imaginary toilet seat. Your knees must be at a 90 degree angle. Remain in this position until the teacher tells you to get up. Only once the student has begun to sweat do I start the 5-minute countdown. Try it at home and you'll see how grueling it can be.

You have an MBA... hmmm, good luck teaching English.

Thursday, March 5... Welcome back to school, how was your summer? Yes, that's right, that dreaded phrase - "First week of school" - is back in my vocabulary. I was riding the bus today (public trans, not school bus) and thinking of how many times I've said that phrase - and the horrible feelings that usually follow. Now it's different. Now I am a teacher, an English teacher, and my lack of proper teaching credentials has everyone at work/school worried about me.

First, the teachers are worried that my lack of the Spanish language will evoke some misbehavior from the students. I can understand and agree that making fun of a teacher in a language he or she doesn't know is a tempting proposition. As a result, I've been brainstorming about possible solutions - the best so far is to introduce a rule stating that speaking in Spanish, good or bad, is not allowed in class. My other solution was to learn Spanish in two weeks, so if you have any suggestions please let me know... school starts March 5th by the way.

Second, many teachers are skeptical of my ability to manage a classroom. Since I have little teaching experience, I don't have a degree in teaching, and my only known English expertise comes from the fact that I'm a native english speaker, I can see how they've come to that conclusion. I've also heard the horror stories about former Americans coming into this school and getting "eaten alive" trying to teach English. My rebuttal to the skeptics regarding this topic is not so easy to answer. I'll work on that answer when classes start; I have some interesting ideas but I want to test my abilities first before I tell everyone my theories.

And finally, just because someone performs the same job for 25 years doesn't necessarily mean that person is good at what they do. Conversely, simply because someone is in their first year of teaching doesn't mean they don't know how to teach. The implication that tenure has a direct relationship with one's ability is a debatable topic. Granted, experience can be one of the best teaching tools and I absolutely admire, respect, and learn from those with experience (especially those people willing to share and teach... I know countless people, I hope to be one of those people one day). But I also know that a person's ignorance and comfort with the routine can restrain creativity and prevent students/subordinates/whomever from reaching their full potential. Of course, this is only my opinion... and I am still a young, inexperienced person, so think what you will. Anyway, I'm getting too deep for this blog/email. But, you can see that introducing me into this new teaching life has brought up new challenges that I'm excited to face.

We'll see how it goes on Thursday... we'll see if the phrase, "First week of school" still brings with it those horrible feelings. I doubt it.

Sincerely,

Profesor Brayan

Photos

I am constantly uploading new photos. Please check out my album here -

http://picasaweb.google.com/bjmyp6

Chau

-Brian

The doctor is the boy's....

Today(monday) I began "Teacher's Meetings" at my work. I work at a school called Colegio Santa Maria. It's an all boy's high school, similar to Chaminade in St. Louis - Marianist. The school year will begin in early March, summer is winding down so that means teachers meet to organize and prepare for the coming year.

In Peru there are 4 Marianist schools... all the teachers from each school come to these meetings, about 150 teachers. I met everyone and of course everyone already knows my story - "you're the guy who can't speak Spanish" - okay, true, kind of. But there are some nice people there that welcome me. We have an initial group meeting in a gymnasium, with the four schools separated sitting on the bleachers. Memories from Rockhurst come to mind where we did the same thing - during pep rallies we would sit with students from the same class as someone with a microphone would speak... we couldn't hear anything. Same thing here... not only are they speaking Spanish, which I understand about 50%, but it's in a gymnasium, the most acoustically-challenged building ever built. After the initial meeting in which I retained absolutely nothing, I receive a color, which indicates which small group I am in. I go to the small group, about 40 people, and we do icebreaker games - my favorite!!!

However, I have failed to mention one very important part of this story... this part I didn't learn until we started doing games and exercises in our small groups. The teacher's meetings aren't to prepare for next year, we take one whole week to have a company come in and talk about human rights, discrimination, racism, etc. This is a seminar on human rights. 8am to 2pm seminar... games, ice breakers, awkward silences, Spanish. Okay, sure, whatever, let's talk about the rights of humans.

Our first activity is a game. There is a board, looks similar to Twister (which got me excited at first because compared to 98% of these people I'm like an elite athlete), but it was not Twister... the arrows pointed to colors, and whatever color your arrow landed, that is the type of card you were to read. The guy leading the seminar turns to me and says, "Empiezas" which is "you start". I know what this phrase means, it didn't prevent me from saying "Excuse me!" in disbelief that I, of all people in this room, would be the guinea pig for this game. Whatever, as Lucia's dad said to me last weekend - The ducks must go to the water (very profound). So I turn the twister thing and it lands on green. I choose a green card and I read, out loud, what it says. It's bad, I must think of a puzzle, riddle, enigma and tell it to the class to see if they can figure it out.

I am not the type of person that can just say jokes - if you say to me, "Brian, tell me a joke." I couldn't think of anything... i don't know, maybe its because I hate clowns, I stay away from jokes. My humor is more quick-wit and stupid inside jokes about my friends. So I struggled to figure out what I was going to say... and how I was going to say it in Spanish. But, I remembered one that usually stumps everyone, but it has to be said in English... if I said it in Spanish I would give away the answer (due to the differences in feminine and masculine articles). First I asked if everyone knew English, which, most people did, and the few that didn't they now know how I feel all day not understanding anything.

The riddle - A father and son are driving and get into a car accident. The father dies in the accident, but his son survives and has to be rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery or else his leg must be amputated. The ambulance comes and takes him away to the hospital, they arrive to the ER, everyone is scrambling like crazy to prepare for surgery. The doctor walks up to the patient and says, "Oh my god, I can't operate on this person, this is my son."

How is this possible?

Thanks to my dad for telling me this years ago... it popped into my head at the right moment like I was destined to impress the crowd. So, after hearing the riddle, they talk amongst themselves trying to figure this out. They ask me question after question, "Is the doctor his Godfather (Padrino in Spanish)?"... "Is the doctor his grandfather?"... "Is the doctor a priest that was close to the family?" ... um, no, nada, nothing. So finally after they can't figure it out I tell them - "The doctor was the boy's mother." A giant "Ooohhhhhhhh" comes from the crowd (as I'm sure some of you are doing right now too). So, after this riddle everyone started to talk to me more, they started to understand that I couldn't speak Spanish very well and were much more open to help me participate. Well, after a riveting start to the game we continue with the next person until an hour later when the game finally ends. The purpose of the game - I'm not sure because they explained it afterward in Spanish and I didn't get it, so well, if I ever figure out the purpose I will be sure to let you know.

For all the lovers out there

Valentine's Day in Peru is the same as in the US... the worst holiday of all time. But, since I have a bit of a romantic side to me (I moved to Peru for a girl... romantic or crazy... still up for debate) I still wanted to do something for Lucia. I have scarce resources here in Peru for this holiday, I don't have a car, I don't know where to shop... but I have found that those particular circumstances have led to the best presents. With the help of Lucia's parents as a cover I got the opportunity to set up a nice area on the side of a cliff ("side of a cliff" doesn't sound romantic, but think of the cliffs on the MTV show, Laguna Beach, then you'll know what I'm talking about). So, Lucia and I had a nice time eating cheese and bread and drinking some wine. Simple, but good. If you thought this was going to be some kind of horror story, I'm sorry I let you down... some good things happen in Peru too.

Rabies

As you may or may not know, last week I was attacked by 5 small to mid-size dogs. Total combined weight of these five dogs - 130 lbs. But, as the saying goes: It's not the size of the dog in the fight, its the size of the fight in the dog. But I've always hated this saying, ever since Coach Munninghoff first said it to me after he demoted me to the B-team during my freshman basketball season .....

To begin, everyday my commute to work consists of walking to the bus stop, riding cramped in a bus to a bridge on a highway, getting through the highway traffic on the bridge to the street running perpendicular below, then getting on another bus to my destination. This particular morning I am walking to the first bus stop and after about two blocks from Lucia's house I encounter three dogs. They run passed me, which I don't find to be particularly odd or scary, but now I have realized why they disguised themselves as nice dogs. After they run passed, two other dogs (chow mix) come around the same corner from which the previous 3 dogs appeared... this time, these dogs go straight for me. They start barking and biting my jeans... nothing too bad yet, I figure that if I keep walking and kicking they will leave me alone. But no, the other three dogs come at me from behind and box me in - they're not really biting, just barking loudly and nipping at me. But then one of the chows takes a good junk of my jeans and a little of my knee with a big bite. That's when I start to take the situation more seriously and start to kick and yell "Fuera!" (A phrase I might have to use in the classroom this year meaning, Get out!). I am near a fairly busy intersection and some people get out of their cars to help scare the dogs away.

The dogs finally leave me alone and run back to their home. I'm a little shaken up, not hurt too bad, so I decide to continue to work. After work I do the first thing any young man would do after his Banana Republic jeans were just ripped - call my mom. I get a to-do list of post dog bite remedies from mom and get started to try to find the owners of the dogs. I ask my new friend, Javier - the security guard outside of Lucia's house - and he points us in the right direction. Down a long gravel road, near Lucia's house, we find all five dogs behind a fence waiting for us. The house looks similar to something out of the remake Texas Chainsaw Massacre - windows are broken, bushes are overgrown around the house, old cars have been parked in the yard going on 28 years collecting dust. As Lucia and I walk up to the fence to ring the bell, four of the dogs come up to greet us with barks, but curiously the dog that bit me runs under one of the abandoned cars in the yard. We ring the doorbell on the gate and an old lady comes out to meet us - she is missing a significant amount of teeth and is wearing something she bought in 1941 (again, I'm thinking Texas Chainsaw Massacre, creepy old lady).

Lucia tells her my horrific, yet heroic, tale of that morning and we ask for the most current vaccinations of the dogs. The old woman can't believe that her dogs would do such a thing... she said that they never attack anyone. So the old lady walks inside to find the papers as Lucia and I wait patiently outside the fence as the dogs calmly watch us. We see a little girl walk up to the fence from inside the house... maybe a granddaughter. She asks what we're doing there so we tell her the story. She tells us... with the honesty that only an innocent child can possess... that her grandma lets the dogs out of the fence all the time and they always attack people. Interesting. The grandma comes back out, hears the tail-end of the little girl's story, and gives a good tap on the shoulder to shut her up. We check the papers and luckily the dogs are vaccinated. We spend the rest of the afternoon reporting the incident to the local doggy control center. Apparently my attack wasn't the first reported attack from these dogs... it was actually the fourth, but since this is Peru, not much was done to prevent it from happening again. I strongly encourage them to do something about the dogs since many children and people walk on that street every day. I'm thinking about writing my story into Banana Republic to be included in their "2009 Banana Republic Jeans Hero of the Year Award"... its a pretty good award. Lucia's dad told me that I was attacked because I left Cosmo at home with my parents when I came to Peru (Cosmo is my dog that I ditched with my parents before I came to Peru) and Cosmo is upset so he sent the Peruvian dogs to find me. Bold statement. I tell him that I find it hard to believe that Cosmo is some kind Lord of the Rings villain (Sauron sending his Ringwraiths after me), but whatever, Cosmo is a special dog and I would never doubt his powers.

Vacation with the In-Laws

(emailed February 11):

Have you ever been on vacation with your in-laws/girlfriend's family? If you have then you know how I feel right now. Everyday I must "check-in" with Lucia's parents during dinner. I am having an awesome time, its incredible here in Peru... but there are costs to living rent-free with your girlfriend's family. Like last night, Lucia went out for a friends birthday, I didn't want to go out because when people go out in Lima they stay out until 4 or 5 in the morning... since I am an old man I can't handle that and I declined to join Lucia. So, it was me and her dad eating dinner together and talking about many things. We have become pretty good friends I guess, and he is open to talk about most things with me. However, last night I learned a little too much info. Let's just say that if someone were to ask me when each of Lucia's brothers and sisters were conceived - I could tell you. Incredible... and when I say incredible, I mean horrible.

the cost of living in the same house as your girlfriend I guess.

My new best friend - Marcial

(emailed February 11):

I wanted to share with you a story that happened to me yesterday. (Please read the below email first before you continue to read this). Okay, now that you're up-to-date with my visa process I can tell you about my new interpreter who can't speak English.

Marcial is my new best friend. He is in his late 60's, is a father of three and has two grandchildren. He and I drive around Lima all day taking care of all my paperwork. He doesn't speak English but I can speak a little Spanish so we get by okay. Tuesday morning I had to be at the Peruvian Work Minister at 7am to accomplish one of the scavenger hunt tasks on my list. Marcial picks me up and we go to the Minister. The doors are closed to the office and there is a line of people going around the building, similar to people waiting outside a homeless shelter for the doors to open for breakfast. Marcial looks at me and says, "Dios mio, mira a todos los gentes." Which just means... Oh my god, look at all the people.

So, I get in line as Marcial patiently waits in the car for me. I ask some people in front of me when the doors open and they said 7:30. Not bad, only 30 minute wait I guess. Around 7:30 a security guard comes out of the front door and one by one asks people why they are there and asks them to show proof of why they are there. I am not quite sure what he is doing, but by the time he gets to me he has kicked out 30 people for being in the wrong place and now I am standing fourth from the door. He gets to me, I show him my scavenger hunt list and tell him I'm here to pick up a couple things for my work visa. He gives me the okay and I feel like one of the lucky ones. Marcial actually got out of the car and walked over to make sure everything was okay. Then I ask the security guard when the doors will open and he says 8:30. I look at Marcial and he gives me the you've-got-to-be-kidding-look.

Marcial decides to wait in line with me and we talk about many things, half of which I don't understand, but I get the gist of it and we continue to stand in line.

Finally, 8:30 comes and the doors open. We walk into the office, which looks more similar to a sweat shop than a work minister - but hell, I've never been in an office of a work minister (whatever that means) so I guess this is okay. There are many small desks everywhere, with workers behind them looking at their computers... I walked by one of the workers and she was looking at her Windows screen saver move around on her desktop - seriously. I am officially in the twighlight zone. I have my taxi driver/interpreter who is helping me ask who I need to talk to. We finally find the correct person and I give her all my information. She asks me several questions that I don't understand, so I do the natural thing and turn to my trusty interpreter standing next to me and give him a confused look. He says the exact same thing to me that the woman had just said... still in spanish.

I feel like I'm on Mars... my Spanish is at best primitive, like a 4 year old. I can communicate and get around the city okay, but when it comes to specific details about specific forms I am lost. So I look at Marcial with the same confused look that I gave the lady. At this point the lady is laughing at me because I brought someone with me that doesn't speak my language and really doesn't know much about what I'm doing... he's my taxi driver. After I get her to stop laughing at the two of us - Abbot and Costello comes to mind at this time - I hand her a form that I received from Santa Maria. She says that this form is for foreigners who are married to Peruvians. Since I'm not married I must fill out another form. I get the next form and it has another long list of things for me to do. I say thanks and we leave, but before we can go, the lady tells me something that makes me laugh... she says that I need a new interpreter.

At this point everyone in the office is laughing at us so I'm happy that I could make their morning a little brighter.

Immigration Bureaucracy

(Emailed: February 11)

Monday I go to the immigration office, get a list of things I need to do to get my work visa. There are six items on the list. This is like a scavenger hunt game... I have to visit each of these six places to fill out different forms and complete different kinds of tasks. However, each thing on the list has its own list. For example, the first thing on the list is to go to the Interpol office here in Lima to get a background check and to fill out a few more forms. Once I arrive to the Interpol office, of course no one speaks English so I have to do my best to talk to them in my primitive Spanish, but it works and I receive another list of things to do to accomplish the first item on my original list. I have to go to a bank and get a $18 money order payable to the US Treasury for purposes of an FBI background check. then I must go to another place to get my fingerprints and mug shot taken. Then I can go back to Interpol, fill out more paperwork, have a dental check (a doctor shines a light in my mouth for about a minute and gives me the okay), then I need to go to the post office to send an envelope full of my personal information to the FBI in West Virginia. So I go to a post office/mail center and the Peruvian mail system is a little behind the times. To get an envelope full of only papers/documents to West Virginia in 5 days it costs almost $40. So, once I send that information to the US that is the first thing done on the list... it only took me four hours.

Anyway, I finished 5 things on the list yesterday and Monday... so today I went to Santa Maria to fulfill number 6, which is the most complicated of them all... that is why I need my notarized degrees from the Peruvian Consulate in Chicago... as well as a few more things that I can take care of here in Lima within in the next week or so.