Cometas

In Spanish, kites are called “cometas,” probably because they fly in the sky like comets, and they often have tails. But I think there’s another reason. How often do you see a comet making its glowing path through the night sky? Once in a lifetime? Twice? Maybe three times. And how do you feel when you’re blessed enough to see something so rare and beautiful? Amazed? Awed? Like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be? That’s exactly how I felt the other day when we took the kindergarten class up the mountain to fly their “cometas.”

On top of the mountain, I could see lots of kids running around, and I’m sure they were making lots of noise, but all I could hear was my pounding heart and heavy breathing. The climb up was surely no walk in the park. As I tried to catch my breath, a tiny girl with black braided pigtails and her light blue school uniform tugged my sleeve. “Volar (fly), Miss?” She held out her kite, a cheap sheet of plastic with three wooden sticks and a picture of Barbie on it. I took it, held it up high, and thrust it into the air as she ran across the hillside, her pigtails flapping in the wind. No sooner had I released her kite when I heard, “Miss, Miss, Miss!” from the left, the right, and the rear. I spent the next 30 minutes or so lifting kites into the wind, not even having time to admire them before being called by another child. I untangled strings, untied knots, and picked up kite after kite. When there was finally a lull, I got out my camera and suddenly the chorus of the children changed to “Toma foto, toma foto (take picture).” Each child would stand still, most ignoring my request for a smile, and then run over to look at themselves on the screen.

A few minutes later, it was time for lunch. I took more pictures and also opened containers of rice and bottles of milk. A little girl (Anali) sitting away from the group motioned me to come take her picture. After taking several, I sat down next to her, and she proceeded to ask me various questions. In Spanish, she asked where I was from, how I got to Peru, if I had been to the jungle, if we had tigers and parrots in America, and several other questions. She noticed that I was struggling to understand some of the words she used (I had to pull out my dictionary for “parrot”), so she decided to help me with my Spanish.

“Que color es tu cabello?” she asked (what color is your hair). Before I could answer, she mouthed, “Marrón.”

Even though I knew the word, I found her attempt to help me absolutely precious. Her friend Luis walked over, and he began to question Anali about me. She repeated my answers to all the questions she’d asked and then rattled on so fast that I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Staring at their big brown eyes, sparkling with animation, I realized that my hairdresser Tammi had been right. Before I left, she told me I’d want to adopt all of them. And I certainly did.

After lunch, the kids got their kites out again. I noticed a boy struggling to make his fly. He had a huge hat on and appeared to be the youngest of the group. “Necesitas ayuda? (do you need help)” I asked. He looked at me and then started talking…and didn’t stop. Between his lack of articulation and turbo speed Spanish, I couldn’t understand a single word. So I just looked at him instead. He was SO cute. His big brown eyes looked like Puss in Boots from Shrek. After staring for who knows how long, I realized that he had stopped talking. He had asked me a question, and I didn’t have the slightest clue what is was. I paused for a moment, as if thinking, nodded, and said, “Si.” He smiled, handed me his kite, and began unraveling ALL of string. “No, no, no.” I corrected, helping him roll it back up and telling him to stand still as I lifted the kite into the air. When the wind finally caught it, I yelled, “Corre, corre (run)!” So he ran. Straight towards me. If you know anything about kites, you know that you have to run away from them to make them fly, not towards them. It took several attempts to make him understand this concept. I take that back, I don’t think he ever understood the concept, but I at least got him to listen to me. He smiled and giggled as his kite soared through the air, all though it never stayed up for more than thirty seconds.

When it was finally time to leave, Duran wanted to keep flying his kite. I’d roll up his string, and he’d immediately unroll it again. Finally, I took the kite in one hand and his tiny fist in the other and started walking down the hill with the rest of the class. It was steep and dusty, so I had to help many of the children down the mountain. I lifted them over a huge ditch one by one, and clutched the hands of the youngest ones during the most treacherous parts. Looking back up the mountain, where another school was still flying their kites, I realized that the morning had been just as amazing as seeing a comet. The only thing that would’ve made that afternoon better would be…hmmm, I’ll let you know when I think of something.

Photos (for those of you not on facebook)

I have a bunch more photos on facebook, but if you don't have a facebook, here are some of my pictures. Unfortunately, they are in reverse order, and it won't let me move them. So start at the bottom, and go up!

Me in front of the city (Huancayo, Peru)

This is me with Anali. She talked to me a lot, asked tons of

questions about America, and helped me with my Spanish.

Duban loves having his picture taken.

lunch time


Isn't she adorable?

We took the kindergarten class up the mountains to fly kites.

This is the mountain school. There are 4 classes and a playground.

my room, once I got my luggage

view from my window

snowy mountains

bus ride from Lima to Huancayo

out the bus window

the streets in Lima

Lima, Peru

On the plane from D.C. to Miami

It's Nice to Say Hola

Saying goodbye is hard, and across a three week period, I had to say goodbye to everyone and everything that I know and love. I held back tears when I hugged my friend Kelly who had lived no more than two minutes away for the past 15 years. I watched my other best friends leave for college, and even the handful of my friends attending WVU moved into their dorms and were busy with orientation and settling in. Then, as my departure approached, I had to bid farewell to everyone from my youth group, church, home group, and softball team. It started to become emotionally draining. And after all that, I still had to say goodbye to my family. Thankfully, I didn’t have enough time to be depressed because as soon as I said goodbye, I had to rush through security to make my flight (I was switched on to an earlier flight because my original one was delayed).

After flying from D.C. to Miami to Lima, I had to take a bus to Huancayo, my final destination. Although I had no leg room at all due to my overstuffed backpack, I was too fascinated by my surroundings to be uncomfortable. Looking out the window, I saw what looked like the Rocky mountains topped with beach palm trees, desert cacti, and the tall skinny trees of the savannah. The dust everywhere made it seem like the world was a dandelion that I could blow away with a single breath. All the trees had leaves but were an ashy gray as if the life had been sucked out of them. The people in the streets looked like they’d been plucked out of a time machine with their colorful woven shawls, long flowing skirts, and baby slung over their back. Tiny rainbow shirts and leggings were draped over numerous clotheslines strung between small brick houses. Stray dogs skinny enough to be posing as Halloween skeletons prowled all over the streets along with the occasional pig, sheep, or rooster, saddled donkeys grazed along the dusty side of the road. Three teenage boys ran into the street and performed flips and handstands at a stop light. Children in school uniforms roamed the streets alone. Huge painted signs advertised politicians or stores on almost every wall. Four llamas stood atop a hill. Everything I saw was new and interesting.

For three hours, looking out the window was fascinating. During the fourth hour, I was still enjoying myself. By the fifth hour, though, my legs started to hurt. By hour six, the drone of rapid fire Spanish all around me became frustrating. At that point, I really wanted off the bus. The trip was only supposed to be six and a half hours, yet the bus showed no sign of stopping. I had to use the restroom, but I was blocked in by a sleeping woman who I didn’t have the heart to wake. By hour seven and a half, I begged God to please let the bus ride end. It finally did. Tino, who I would be staying with, picked me up at the bus station and we rode a taxi to his home. I was disappointed to find out that I was currently the only volunteer. He showed me my room, and I spent a few minutes getting settled; however, I still couldn’t unpack because my suitcase was MIA. I sat on my bed and felt a million things at once: amazed, fascinated, interested, excited…but I also found that the loneliness had returned.

Before I had time to dwell on my loneliness, though, Tino’s wife, Mari, invited me to see the mountain school with her daughter Angela. We walked down a dirt road, passed a wall painted with Spongebob characters, and waited at the bus stop. Out of nowhere, a green bus appeared, speeding down the street. It slammed on its brakes when it reached us, and we climbed on. Before I even had a chance to look for a seat, the scrawny bus driver had stomped on the gas, nearly throwing me to the ground. I grabbed a bar on the ceiling and braced myself as we took sharp turns and went straight over anything in our way. I felt like I was a passenger of Cruella De’Ville or the crazy bus driver from Harry Potter 3. When we reached our stop, I thanked God that I was still alive and paid my fare in Peruvian soles. However, I should’ve waited to thank God because the bus nearly ran us over as we were getting off.

We walked a short distance up another dirt road, passing houses the size of an American shed and in much worse condition. I began to expect the school to be a lean-to made of cardboard. But then Mari opened a metal door, and suddenly white walls painted with flowers, animals, and handprints stood before me. As I turned to look around, children started pouring out of three small classrooms. Every single one of them ran up to me, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Hello, Miss.”

“Hola, Hola, Hola,” I echoed as I admired each beaming face. Every child had huge brown eyes framed in long lashes, and most of the girls had beautiful long braids that shone in the sunlight. The older girls asked me where I was from. The younger boys showed me their toy bugs. More and more kept coming out of classrooms to welcome me. By the time I greeted the last child, my loneliness had vanished like my puff of breath in the chilly air.

I'm having troubling getting pictures on here. It's really slow, so I will try to upload them on facebook instead.