Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Killin' Time in Chiclayo


Woke up the next morning to meet a Cajamarca volunteer who was also stranded in Chiclayo.  She lives somewhere between Chota and Chiclayo.  I discovered her existence when morning number two in Chiclayo, I went to the room a couple of my friends were staying in and discovered tech exchange frenzy.  Turns out all the new stuff was from Courtney, who promptly made her appearance with a head of super long wet hair and a comb.  She had apparently just watched a video on the internet on how to cut and layer your hair yourself.  I immediately thought of my friend Annie Pope, who is a complete beast at that and felt a small pang at the rush of memories I have under the Annie Pope file in my head. 
Courtney asked if any of us have scissors, and I lent her the ones I used to cut a bunch of people’s hair at the end of training.  She walked out in the hallway and just hacked it off.  I couldn’t help laughing at the sheer nonchalance of the whole thing.  It was super crooked, and she just started cutting at it.  I told her I could make it straight if she wanted, but she was having a fine time all on her own.  We spent the rest of the morning watching strange things on TV and tech-exchanging. 
Still with no idea when we were supposed to leave, we made a trip to the mall for some last minute stuff.  I continued to fret over my lack of elected color scheme.  I wanted to run with a sage green, salmon pink, and yellow to be bright, happy, but also soothing.  The problem was, those colors pretty much don’t exist in Perú, and I’d have a hard time making that happen.  So while I stressed about that, we wandered around the mall looking for things.  We discovered a store that is the Peruvian equivalent to Pier 1, and we were all so excited.  My excitement soon vanished with the sheer persistence of the store’s employees.  If I picked up something to show my friends, someone would appear out of nowhere with a basket and tell me they would hold it at the front for me.  They kept popping out of the bedding section with carts and baskets and other products.  I didn’t know how many times I was going to have to say, “NO GRACIAS!” or “We’re just looking!”  In the States I avoid employees like the plague unless I have a specific question because they make me feel so awkward, and sometimes I just don’t know what I’m looking for, and I usually don’t want to buy the more expensive version of what I’m holding.  They have NOTHING on this store’s employees.  There was a giant cluster of them trying to hard to get involved.  As a general rule, Peruvians don’t really take “NO” for an answer.  Persistence…it must be genetic. 
After that little adventure, we wandered around a bit more and then went to see Breaking Dawn at the movie theater.  It cost $2.50, so we got a giant popcorn and some drinks.  We laughed pretty much the whole way through the movie.  There are some REALLY ridiculous scenes in that movie.  Nonetheless, it felt good to forget the waiting and anxiety and laugh our way through an American movie in English.  We found out that we were leaving for sure for Chota that night, so we headed back to the hostel and waited to be picked up by the regional coordinator of Piura.  We drank the rest of our Gato wine on the roof with Courtney then went out to our Last Supper for about the tenth time, where I had a Pisco Sour (classic Peruvian beverage).  About halfway through my way too strong Pisco Sour, I realized in about two hours I was going to want to take a Dramamine.  I had been getting so ridiculously car sick everywhere I went in Perú that I knew I needed to take that Dramamine.  However, I was scared about mixing the two after a scary purchase of Midol in the States.  I had gone to Walmart to buy myself some Midol before I left the States for Perú, and the cashier decided it was a good time to tell me her cousin had taken Midol, then drank hard liquor, went into a coma and died.  That’s a hard tidbit to forget. 
I decided to play it safe and texted the Peace Corps doctors’ number.  To put this in context, we are all on an intimate level with the Peace Corps doctors, and they all have a really great sense of humor and are used to being asked stupid questions.  They also, conveniently, have a Peace Corps Medical Officer phone that we are allowed to call at any hour.  It was only 7p.m. when I texted and asked if I would be safe taking Dramamine if I had been drinking, I got a text back that said, “Probably not the best, besides, the alcohol will help put you to sleep J” Knowing my motion sickness tendencies, I asked if I stopped drinking and waited an hour if it would be ok.  I got the go ahead so I quickly downed my Pisco with a shiver and grimace and started my watch timer.  

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