What a week. Some hours in the lab were so repetitive and slow, but others flew by. I was counting seeds, extracting seeds from wild potato berries (bayas), and making labels. All this was for the collection of papas silvestres- wild potatoes. These are not edible, but are preserved for traditional breeding purposes. The main operator of this program is named Alberto Salas. He collected about 60% of the entire potato collection here at CIP- 3,000 to 4,000 varieties. The figure on the number of varieties is not exact to this date. Dr. Ellis, the supervisor of the gene bank, told me it is not officially know how many varieties A. Salas collected because many were collected while he was studying under his predecessor. Therefore in the literature, these potatoes were attributed to his predecessor. "We Salas' lab notebooks though," Dr. Ellis told me Friday night. "He was doing 12 or more collection trips per year when others were doing two or three." Dr. Ellis also described the method of collecting, which when told as a story, as he did, sounds like quite an adventure. First they would look through the records to determine the climate, land forms, and areas a potato was encountered and recorded in the past. Then, the collection team would drive there by bus. Alberto would look out the bus windows, and when he saw something promising, he would as the bus driver to stop (baja, baja), give candy out to all the other passengers to pacify them, and jump out to investigate. Dr. Ellis told me that on collecting trips together, they'd do the same,but in their own vehicle. After arriving in an area, Alberto would talk to local farmers, mechanics, and show owners to find where people had seen plants fitting their description. How incredibly rich the local knowledge. Alberto Salas is fluent in Spanish and Quechua, the native language of the interior. I am convinced this is invaluable.
What a legacy this lab has, and I've only just started here. Meanwhile, it is now the weekend, and I have moved to my home for the week in Miraflores. After this week, I will return to the dormitories at CIP. There is much more to see and do in Miraflores, but going out in the city scares me. I never quite feel safe here. There is always an underlying feeling of unease. I cannot blend in at all and I don't understand Spanish when unfamiliar words are spoken quickly. I get a lot of stares, and this makes me so uncomfortable. I went for a myrist run on Thursday evening. Evne though the view was beautiful- mountains, fields of all different types of crops, couples laying in the grass together, a brilliant full moon just starting to rise at the end of my run- I couldn't relax. There was still the backdrop of speeding cars, people speaking a language I strain to half- understand, people looking at me like they had never seen a runner (which cannot be true because I've seen runners here). Perhaps the stares are just my perception and not the reality. I want so badly to blend in and pass by unnoticed, going about my business, thinking my own private thoughts, etc.
This afternoon I began to feel more at ease with things. Dogs played in the soft late afternoon grass of the park nearby my house in Miraflores. How peaceful and beautiful. I had just made my first trip alone to the grocery store near my house. It was a success. I waited as long as I possibly could to go to the store, but after leaving my room, the city was significantly less threatening. This evening Rocio and I went for dinner, and I rode the chombi- public bus- for the first time. On the way back, Rocio told me I would have her respect if I hailed it myself. Success! All the while, I felt at ease. Something is beginning to change. I like it.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Bus from Arequipa to Lima
The Envy Corps blasts about the idling and air circulation system. If an observer guessed I am trying to drown my emotions out of my mind, they would be correct. There is nothing more English-speaking, United States, Midwest, Iowa, Ames, home, than the Envy Corps.
As the plane took off from San Jose, Costa Rica this spring, I looked out the window and inexplicably and uncomfortably found myself overwhelmed with emotion. What exactly I was feeling I was unsure. I am still unsure, but I have a better idea now. I knew this moment would arrive and reoccur in Peru. As I boarded the bus, I found my mind demanding, almost screaming, I want to speak English! I want to speak English at a million miles per hour! "Bienvenidos a bordo?" Bordo? What kind of word is that? Get your own word instead of adding an "o" to the end of an English word. There is clearly fault in this reasoning, and it is difficult for me to write this thought only moments later. Dare I acknowledge it occurred? However, to deny it would make things even more difficult. I realized, this is culture shock. My head is so full of Spanish I can't think of anything else. Even as I write this, my brain flash to Spanish. Mi cabeza... llena con Espanol. Get out! Just let me think!
My eyes fill and I look out the bus window. I put on the most middle grinding beat of the Envy Corps and recline my head back towards the evening sky. I watch a man packing bags into the bus next door, and I think about how real and normal this is. It is easy for me to watch and understand. I look at the lettering on this bus as a point of fixation, and thought of how selfish it was for my friends and family to be so worried when I left. It's my easily harmed small body and mind shipped here. I was immediately not proud of this thought either. This day has been full of primal thoughts such as these.
As I keep listening to the Envy Corps, I feel at home. I never do life the easy way- this is what makes Peru and learning another language my home and a part of me.
Esta vida: vale la pena.
As the plane took off from San Jose, Costa Rica this spring, I looked out the window and inexplicably and uncomfortably found myself overwhelmed with emotion. What exactly I was feeling I was unsure. I am still unsure, but I have a better idea now. I knew this moment would arrive and reoccur in Peru. As I boarded the bus, I found my mind demanding, almost screaming, I want to speak English! I want to speak English at a million miles per hour! "Bienvenidos a bordo?" Bordo? What kind of word is that? Get your own word instead of adding an "o" to the end of an English word. There is clearly fault in this reasoning, and it is difficult for me to write this thought only moments later. Dare I acknowledge it occurred? However, to deny it would make things even more difficult. I realized, this is culture shock. My head is so full of Spanish I can't think of anything else. Even as I write this, my brain flash to Spanish. Mi cabeza... llena con Espanol. Get out! Just let me think!
My eyes fill and I look out the bus window. I put on the most middle grinding beat of the Envy Corps and recline my head back towards the evening sky. I watch a man packing bags into the bus next door, and I think about how real and normal this is. It is easy for me to watch and understand. I look at the lettering on this bus as a point of fixation, and thought of how selfish it was for my friends and family to be so worried when I left. It's my easily harmed small body and mind shipped here. I was immediately not proud of this thought either. This day has been full of primal thoughts such as these.
As I keep listening to the Envy Corps, I feel at home. I never do life the easy way- this is what makes Peru and learning another language my home and a part of me.
Esta vida: vale la pena.
Sunday Morning in Arequipa
The blares of police sirens cause pigeons to flap wildly and fly. Between the sirens, a man speaks over a microphone. It is Sunday morning in Arequipa and there is a demonstration on the street below our hotel. I am sitting on the rooftop and it is the first time in days I've been able to sit outside without a sweater or many sweaters. The iconic Volcan Misti is prominent in my view, and to my left I can see the beautiful colors of the city against the mountain range. The air is not fresh, but it is not rancid either. The city is anything but peaceful this Sunday morning.
Waking up to Spanish with Rocio and Nataly this morning seemed a little more normal, and yesterday I started feeling a touch more confident with my Spanish. Only a touch though. During the tour to the Colca Valley, I was one of three non-Peruvians. The other two were Chilean, and for this reason, I garnered attention simply by being there. There was fascination over my hair and questions about where I was from, followed by questions about the United States. The answer to all of this was that I was from the great corn state, Ohio. The conversations were simple, but I still felt a sense of accomplishment.
Yesterday evening while out to dinner with Rocio and Nataly, I felt a bit more comfortable to ask questions. We had a great time teaching each other different idiomatic expression. You can imagine the laughs over "party pooper"- aguafiestas in Spanish.
The journey thus far has been nothing like I imagined. I always imagined the night of restless sleep before the flight and a feeling of uncontainable excitement. How many times I've dreampt of my departure, always to Uganda in years of past dreams, I cannot count! Instead, most of the time I felt calm and with little emotion. Emotions came in punches, terribly excited and shouting to the sky, scared, and cacophonous mixtures of both. Now that I've been here a week, I still feel there has not been time to process everything. Things are becoming more normal though. The thought that home is three months away scares me a bit, and sometimes I find myself thinking fondly of the reunion I will have with Kerri, Becca, Ellen, Dylan, and IAAS friends from Sweden when we unite for IAAS world conference in Chile. But now my life for the next eight weeks... Vive el presente.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Puedes Quitarte el Chuyo?
May 18th
"Puedo sacar una foto juntas?" The smiling Peruvian woman, probably in her 40's, handed her camera to her husband. "Puedo sacarlo," and I gesture to the camera. "No, juntas!" "Conmigo??" ("No, together!" "With me??") "Si, si!" She laughed and continued, "Morena y la amiga blanca y rubia." (Dark haired with the pale blond friend). The shot fired. "Puedes quitarte el chuyo?" ("Can you take off your hat?") The smile came and I couldn't help but laugh. I have heard of this occurrence, but not in Peru, and it still surprised me.
As we drove down the road in our mini tour van, I looked out at the beauty of the raised fields and the vast diversity of plants. I found my thoughts likening myself to some zoo animal from far away... Maybe I am farther from home than I originally thought...
"Puedo sacar una foto juntas?" The smiling Peruvian woman, probably in her 40's, handed her camera to her husband. "Puedo sacarlo," and I gesture to the camera. "No, juntas!" "Conmigo??" ("No, together!" "With me??") "Si, si!" She laughed and continued, "Morena y la amiga blanca y rubia." (Dark haired with the pale blond friend). The shot fired. "Puedes quitarte el chuyo?" ("Can you take off your hat?") The smile came and I couldn't help but laugh. I have heard of this occurrence, but not in Peru, and it still surprised me.
As we drove down the road in our mini tour van, I looked out at the beauty of the raised fields and the vast diversity of plants. I found my thoughts likening myself to some zoo animal from far away... Maybe I am farther from home than I originally thought...
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Machu Picchu
May 15th, 1:20pm
I cannot think of another way to begin: Machu Picchu. Even this is not satisfactory for a beginning, but it will have to do. As I write, I sit on one of the higher raised fields, and the view is unreal. small wispy cloud is below between the mountains. This must be the closest I'll ever get to flying. The paper I am writing on is soaked.
Where to begin? It is difficult to describe the last three days since leaving Iowa. The last time I wrote was on the plane from Iowa to Dallas. However, it did not save on my ipod. From now on entries will occur on paper first. I was curious about the stories of the people around me, but there was not much space in my ind for much of anything. There was a man seated diagonal to me in the flight. I noticed his passport from El Salvador before boarding the flight. We held each others eyes for a split moment- we heard our cacophony of emotion. When our wheels left the runway, I was crying, but I was also laughing.
4:07pm
I had to take a break from writing to let the rain pass and to take a nap. I only slept for 20 minutes, but waking up here made it more real. It was time to begin investigating and thinking again.
El subia (climb) up the mountain began at 11:45am. Investigating the route and purchasing another day's admission delayed me from my original 9:20am start down the path. When I reached the base of the mountain, the guard sent me away. The walk back seemed much shorter once I knew the way. Wandering a bit in Aguas Calientes, also known as Macu Picchu pueblo, I encountered the Plaza de Armas and the Machu Piccu ticket office. Purchasing another admission- about $25 USD or 60 s/.- made me think twice, but only briefly. Regret is not a result of this expenditure. I equipped myself with two bottles of water, a small plantain, and a granola bar of quinoa and corn. My stomach had been sending me small pains on my left side on my way from the base of the mountain back to Aguas Calientes. I hoped this was hunger or dehydration, not altitude sickness. Regardless, I began.
On la camina from Aguas Calientes to the base of the mountain, there were two porters accompanying a group of middle aged US hikers (based on their accent, but easily could have been of any European descent), presumably hikers from the Inca Trail. The two young Peruvian men bend under the cargo of the hikers and from the correct angle, only their mountain goat thin but strong legs betrayed how the bags moved. The oven on the right turned to half-smile to his friend- already many of his teeth were missing. Becoming a custom for this start of my trip, a sudden punch of emotion manifested. Here is where I begin to ask myself, what's wrong with this relationship? Is there indeed something wrong? This recalled my first venture into the countryside around Cusco. Our taxi hair pinned around the mountain, navigated people, dogs, and trucks among breathtaking mountain views. Homes made of long grass thatch caught my eyes along with a plastic wrapping emblazoned: USAUD. My travel companion Rocio outlined the projects of CIP (el Centro Internacional de la Papa), some with development and orange flesh sweet potato (camote). She told me there are many problems in the rural areas of Peru- water quality, education, health, and food security. Illiteracy and poverty in Peru is high-anywhere from 20% to 30% depending upon the type of poverty evaluation. Someone told me, "people even die of cold in the winter here. Things here represent to me more how things used to be." This begged the question in my mind, if this is the reality for people today, isn't this just a comforting thought, not a truth?
Seeing these young men and my conversation with Rocio made me question harshly the depth of my cultural exchanges thus far. In IAAS and with Rocio and Nataly, I've been interacting with a specific sector of the population: young, educated, and middle to upper class. How much am I stretching myself by repeating this? Another part of me says, one step at a time, Genna. One step at a time. Nonetheless, I hope I can work on the weekends or evenings in some type of volunteer project or organization. I have many precautions about these types of projects as well, but first hand experience will be the best mode of evaluation.
What detail a camera cannot catch. Upon looking up from my post at writing, I notice a cloud rolled into the interior around the centeral tree that facinates me. The clouds can be seen as clustered of vapor particles, carried on convection currents of countless layers and shapes that call to mind the mysterious: souls of the deal, hands of Incan dios, Gandalf's pipe.
At this point, I got kicked out of the park. I stayed until 5pm, which was an hour longer than I should have stayed. Upon disembarking, I realized darkness would fall more quickly than the time in which I could descend from the mountain. When I realized this, I picked up my pace quite a bit...
May 16th
As I write, the scenery passes at a calm rate. Traveling by train as romantic as I imagined. Mountains house beauty of humbling height. Ademas, the vegitative biodiversity is visible, overwhelming, and beautiful beyond description, even by photograph. You need the panorama, the movement of grazing cows, pigs, and llamas in teh fields, the feel smell, mood of the air. The vegetation is dry-subtropical with rapeseed, prickly pear, agave, trees speckling the coat of the land. Then the farms: mixtures of wheat, maize, potato, lima bean, and many I cannot recognize. Houses are made of sod, clay, open windows, and laundry hanging in the open air. Fires burn, mothers tend to children, children run after livestock, adults rest and converse. Observing the strong current of the river, it's green tint and foamy tops. I wonder at how quickly its cold strong arms would carry my body away. The train rocks to and fro over the tracks, and the sound of the train is passing and syncopated: cha-cha, cha-cha- cha-cha, cha-cha-
I cannot think of another way to begin: Machu Picchu. Even this is not satisfactory for a beginning, but it will have to do. As I write, I sit on one of the higher raised fields, and the view is unreal. small wispy cloud is below between the mountains. This must be the closest I'll ever get to flying. The paper I am writing on is soaked.
Where to begin? It is difficult to describe the last three days since leaving Iowa. The last time I wrote was on the plane from Iowa to Dallas. However, it did not save on my ipod. From now on entries will occur on paper first. I was curious about the stories of the people around me, but there was not much space in my ind for much of anything. There was a man seated diagonal to me in the flight. I noticed his passport from El Salvador before boarding the flight. We held each others eyes for a split moment- we heard our cacophony of emotion. When our wheels left the runway, I was crying, but I was also laughing.
I had to take a break from writing to let the rain pass and to take a nap. I only slept for 20 minutes, but waking up here made it more real. It was time to begin investigating and thinking again.
El subia (climb) up the mountain began at 11:45am. Investigating the route and purchasing another day's admission delayed me from my original 9:20am start down the path. When I reached the base of the mountain, the guard sent me away. The walk back seemed much shorter once I knew the way. Wandering a bit in Aguas Calientes, also known as Macu Picchu pueblo, I encountered the Plaza de Armas and the Machu Piccu ticket office. Purchasing another admission- about $25 USD or 60 s/.- made me think twice, but only briefly. Regret is not a result of this expenditure. I equipped myself with two bottles of water, a small plantain, and a granola bar of quinoa and corn. My stomach had been sending me small pains on my left side on my way from the base of the mountain back to Aguas Calientes. I hoped this was hunger or dehydration, not altitude sickness. Regardless, I began.
On la camina from Aguas Calientes to the base of the mountain, there were two porters accompanying a group of middle aged US hikers (based on their accent, but easily could have been of any European descent), presumably hikers from the Inca Trail. The two young Peruvian men bend under the cargo of the hikers and from the correct angle, only their mountain goat thin but strong legs betrayed how the bags moved. The oven on the right turned to half-smile to his friend- already many of his teeth were missing. Becoming a custom for this start of my trip, a sudden punch of emotion manifested. Here is where I begin to ask myself, what's wrong with this relationship? Is there indeed something wrong? This recalled my first venture into the countryside around Cusco. Our taxi hair pinned around the mountain, navigated people, dogs, and trucks among breathtaking mountain views. Homes made of long grass thatch caught my eyes along with a plastic wrapping emblazoned: USAUD. My travel companion Rocio outlined the projects of CIP (el Centro Internacional de la Papa), some with development and orange flesh sweet potato (camote). She told me there are many problems in the rural areas of Peru- water quality, education, health, and food security. Illiteracy and poverty in Peru is high-anywhere from 20% to 30% depending upon the type of poverty evaluation. Someone told me, "people even die of cold in the winter here. Things here represent to me more how things used to be." This begged the question in my mind, if this is the reality for people today, isn't this just a comforting thought, not a truth?
Seeing these young men and my conversation with Rocio made me question harshly the depth of my cultural exchanges thus far. In IAAS and with Rocio and Nataly, I've been interacting with a specific sector of the population: young, educated, and middle to upper class. How much am I stretching myself by repeating this? Another part of me says, one step at a time, Genna. One step at a time. Nonetheless, I hope I can work on the weekends or evenings in some type of volunteer project or organization. I have many precautions about these types of projects as well, but first hand experience will be the best mode of evaluation.
What detail a camera cannot catch. Upon looking up from my post at writing, I notice a cloud rolled into the interior around the centeral tree that facinates me. The clouds can be seen as clustered of vapor particles, carried on convection currents of countless layers and shapes that call to mind the mysterious: souls of the deal, hands of Incan dios, Gandalf's pipe.
At this point, I got kicked out of the park. I stayed until 5pm, which was an hour longer than I should have stayed. Upon disembarking, I realized darkness would fall more quickly than the time in which I could descend from the mountain. When I realized this, I picked up my pace quite a bit...
May 16th
As I write, the scenery passes at a calm rate. Traveling by train as romantic as I imagined. Mountains house beauty of humbling height. Ademas, the vegitative biodiversity is visible, overwhelming, and beautiful beyond description, even by photograph. You need the panorama, the movement of grazing cows, pigs, and llamas in teh fields, the feel smell, mood of the air. The vegetation is dry-subtropical with rapeseed, prickly pear, agave, trees speckling the coat of the land. Then the farms: mixtures of wheat, maize, potato, lima bean, and many I cannot recognize. Houses are made of sod, clay, open windows, and laundry hanging in the open air. Fires burn, mothers tend to children, children run after livestock, adults rest and converse. Observing the strong current of the river, it's green tint and foamy tops. I wonder at how quickly its cold strong arms would carry my body away. The train rocks to and fro over the tracks, and the sound of the train is passing and syncopated: cha-cha, cha-cha- cha-cha, cha-cha-
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Wrapping Up Loose Ends: Goals
It's been since IAAS National Summit since I wrote. Here I will briefly tie up loose ends from the preceding months. At IAAS National Summit, the lovely and professional Victoria Barth was elected as National Director for IAAS USA. I have since been elected as president of IAAS at Iowa State University. I am incredibly excited to work with Victoria and the rest of our new national executive team. There are currently four goals at various levels that I have in IAAS. First, plan and fund raise for world Congress 2014 in the USA. Secondly, help our new USA executive team get to World Congress 2013 in Chile. Third, plan a World Food Prize exchange week in October. And finally, get our local Iowa Wines Seminar off the ground. We have already arranged for our two first exchange program students. Our first will be a Belgian student; he will work at the ISU Horticulture Research Station this summer. Our second will be this fall with a student from IAAS Hohenheim who will work with the IAAS alumni at the CSA (community sustained agriculture) Table Top Farm.
The Take Less, Give More Water Initiative also has some loose ends to tie up. In the fall, we hope to move forward by starting pen pal relationships with the people in the area of our charity:water infrastructure development. We also hope to get more students involved by having a water education event during Welcome Week. This summer, I'd like to apply for some grants so we have seed funding to work with for advertising and educational events. If we get seed funding, we may be able to market Take Less, Give More Water Initiative merchandise to support development in a water insecure community.
And now, for the largest recent change in my life: my internship at the International Potato Center in Lima, Peru. My first and most difficult goal is to become proficient in Peruvian Spanish. this looks to be very difficult, but I need to remain patient with myself. If I try my best and study in the evenings, this is all I can do. !Asi se puede! Secondly I need to learn all I can about genebank preservation, seed saving, and potato cultivation for my antisipated horticultural research at Iowa State in Peruvian potato cultivation for the upcoming year.
Costa Rica was a good preparation for this trip. Speaking with Costa Ricans gave me a bit of confidence in speaking Spanish with native speakers, even if Peruvian Spanish seems very different. The trip gave me impression that is thus far accurate of how Latin America looks and feels.
From here forward, my adventure in Peru...
The Take Less, Give More Water Initiative also has some loose ends to tie up. In the fall, we hope to move forward by starting pen pal relationships with the people in the area of our charity:water infrastructure development. We also hope to get more students involved by having a water education event during Welcome Week. This summer, I'd like to apply for some grants so we have seed funding to work with for advertising and educational events. If we get seed funding, we may be able to market Take Less, Give More Water Initiative merchandise to support development in a water insecure community.
And now, for the largest recent change in my life: my internship at the International Potato Center in Lima, Peru. My first and most difficult goal is to become proficient in Peruvian Spanish. this looks to be very difficult, but I need to remain patient with myself. If I try my best and study in the evenings, this is all I can do. !Asi se puede! Secondly I need to learn all I can about genebank preservation, seed saving, and potato cultivation for my antisipated horticultural research at Iowa State in Peruvian potato cultivation for the upcoming year.
Costa Rica was a good preparation for this trip. Speaking with Costa Ricans gave me a bit of confidence in speaking Spanish with native speakers, even if Peruvian Spanish seems very different. The trip gave me impression that is thus far accurate of how Latin America looks and feels.
From here forward, my adventure in Peru...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)