tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58488028821066908842024-03-13T14:37:02.490-07:00And Now for Something Completely DifferentWin Williams in PeruWin Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-65373657721581490072011-12-10T12:39:00.000-08:002011-12-10T18:03:24.704-08:00Knee Surgery, Marijuana Pills and Peru<div><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I know I haven</span><span lang="EN-US">'</span><span lang="EN-US">t written in a while. I apologize. It</span><span lang="EN-US">'</span><span lang="EN-US">s been a very odd past couple of months where I thought life was going in one direction but ended up pulling me in another completely unexpected one. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">As I write this, I'm in Lima - but let</span><span lang="EN-US">'</span><span lang="EN-US">s go back to late September with about three months left in service. My projects were finally advancing nicely and things were going very well in Rio Grande. On the side I'd been working with my boss on staying a 3<sup>rd</sup> year with the PC in Lima working for the Peruvian equivalent of the EPA and OSHA - the thought being I could make contacts in the Peruvian government and industry and later strike out on my own as an Environmental Health and Safety Consultant here. It wasn't a done deal but we were getting close so it seemed that I had a pretty good plan going. I came up to Lima for Peru 14's Close of Service (COS) conference where we covered the ins and outs of readjusting back to life in the US. During the conference, I ironed out some details and committed to stay a third year. Plans be damned and life took over from there. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">A couple of days prior to the COS conference, I played league softball for my team in Lima. On an embarrassingly shitty Baltimore chop grounder to third I was legging it out to first when I felt a pop in my right knee. It hurt like shit so I went to the doctor to get an MRI after our COS conference. Turns out I tore the meniscus in that knee.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Several weeks prior to all this, my mom had had an operation (sorry - I</span><span lang="EN-US">'m getting kind of Quentin Tarantino with the timeline here but bear with me)</span><span lang="EN-US">. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out as expected and Mom remained in the hospital for quite some time. She called me exasperated to let me know that she needed yet another operation. I knew from the tone of her voice that I needed to come home to be there for her, for my brother, and for my Aunt Lale, who has been a saint through all this. The Country Director here graciously allowed me to go home during this trying time. So I went to Texas presumably for 3 weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I flew home and my mom had the operation. Things went as well as could reasonably be expected and we all were cautiously optimistic. Recovery was very slow initially but thanks to the healing power of marijuana pills (prescribed by the doctor) she started making progress. I'm happy to report that, although she has good days and bad days, she</span><span lang="EN-US">'</span><span lang="EN-US">s back at the house and taking care of herself. Quick aside - I cooked her a fried egg and toast for breakfast the day after she came back home. The following morning I offered to fry her up another egg but she politely declined and said that she would do it. I thought - this woman is truly remarkable and wants to get back to taking care of herself and not feel like she</span><span lang="EN-US">'s being </span><span lang="EN-US">a burden. Turns out I can't fry an egg for shit and it was too greasy so she basically fired me as the cook and took matters into her own hands.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Meanwhile, while my mom was still recovering in the hospital, I decided to get my knee looked at by a 3<sup>rd</sup> party. The Peruvian doctors recommended I have the torn meniscus surgically repaired. The PC doctors in DC recommended the conservative route of physical therapy. The orthopedic doctor in Texas said that physical therapy likely wouldn't accomplish a whole hell of a lot so he recommended I get it scoped and I</span><span lang="EN-US">'</span><span lang="EN-US">d be as good as new in a couple of weeks. The PC agreed so I went ahead with the surgery. The procedure was uneventful and I still hoped to be back in Peru in two weeks. Three weeks tops. Then the shit hit the fan. I received an email from my Country Director and a few of the PC doctors in Peru thanking me for my service and that I would be missed. I was doped up on Vicodan, confused and wondered what the f%ck was going on - Turns out it is PC policy to medically separate Volunteers who have surgery in the last 3 months of service. Unfortunately, no one had communicated that policy to me beforehand. My PC service ended. Abruptly. Without warning. I was devastated, furious, depressed and determined to appeal my medical separation.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The following day my former boss from HUB International, Todd Macumber, called me up to say that a position as a Risk Consultant had opened up in Texas just that week. I was still in a Vicodan haze and out of sorts and told him I'd think about it. A week later, Todd arranged a meeting between me, the President of HUB in the Dallas office and the Chief Sales Officer in the Forth Worth office so we could feel each other out. The meeting went fantastic! They were happy with my skill set and that I knew how HUB worked. I was impressed that they understood what I did and how it could benefit their clients and HUB. HUB made me an offer, I jumped at it and that</span><span lang="EN-US">'</span><span lang="EN-US">s that. I officially started last week but hit the ground running in January.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">So now I'm back in Peru for three weeks. I couldn't just let the last two years of my life come to an end without closure. I</span><span lang="EN-US">'</span><span lang="EN-US">m in Lima visiting friends and saying goodbye to the wonderful PC Peru staff and Volunteers, some of whom are staying and others going back to the great unknown. Tomorrow I travel back to Rio Grande to say my goodbyes to the community that took me in as one of their own the last two years. If I'm lucky, I'll get to go to the jungle or eat ceviche on a nice beach for a few days.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">So, even though my best laid plans went astray, the story has happy ending. I get to go back to Texas to be with family. I've got a very nice job lined up despite the shitty US economy. I</span><span lang="EN-US">'m not pissed or resentful towards the PC even though a few folks in DC need to get their shit together. And </span><span lang="EN-US">I'm getting to say goodbye to the very special people in my life the last two years here in Peru. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">And don’t worry, I</span><span lang="EN-US">'ve got a few more hilarious, entertaining and informative blog postings left in me so stay tuned the next couple of weeks.</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-21444823627409026292011-09-11T16:08:00.000-07:002011-09-11T16:41:12.877-07:00Festival del Camarón 2011<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v2KZu4leeCQ/Tm1CTcPUlEI/AAAAAAAAAj8/kVVS9FJH87Q/s1600/IMG_7209.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 336px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v2KZu4leeCQ/Tm1CTcPUlEI/AAAAAAAAAj8/kVVS9FJH87Q/s400/IMG_7209.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651246009185244226" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Me, Temito, & the girl Temito was dancing with watching Candela. Note the lead singers face in the background!</div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Uco-6LCCNI/Tm1CTJ_lhUI/AAAAAAAAAj0/zTD29W3L2x8/s1600/IMG_7231.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Uco-6LCCNI/Tm1CTJ_lhUI/AAAAAAAAAj0/zTD29W3L2x8/s400/IMG_7231.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651246004287407426" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">VW Bug Races. The pick up truck in the background nearly got nailed as one of the cars was fishtailing across the finish.</div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FMDohkTBEXo/Tm1CS9O4LQI/AAAAAAAAAjs/se2wj6YIM94/s1600/IMG_7242.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FMDohkTBEXo/Tm1CS9O4LQI/AAAAAAAAAjs/se2wj6YIM94/s400/IMG_7242.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651246000861883650" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Ceviche de Camaron</div><p class="MsoNormal">I know what you’re thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>All this guy does is go to festivals - doesn’t he every work??<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Let me assure you that drinking beer and eating big-ass crawfish ceviche IS work!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Perhaps the toughest job I’ve ever loved. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’ll tell you about some of the projects I’m working on later.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now, let’s talk about camarones, or crawfish.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My town of Big River is famous for its camarones.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Right now we are at the height of <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span><span lang="ES-PE"> </span>season so let’s have a big party to celebrate.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Last night there was a concert in the sports complex (a patch of walled in concrete where folks play fulbito and volleyball).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A cumbia group called Candela played. The band is headed by the lesser known brother of Los Hermanos Yaipen, a famous Peruvian cumbia brother band (seems like there are a ton of brother acts here).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I met up with some buddies and we hung out, drank this lousy beer called Franca and enjoyed the show.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Usually these bands have a couple of scantily clad girls dancing but, alas, this one did not. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Today was the main day.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>People started milling round the plaza at noonish where they held a <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span>-themed food contest.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There was papa relleno de <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón (</span>baked mashed potato filled with <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón)</span>, a <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span><span lang="ES-PE"> </span>salad with a delicious <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-PE">camarón</span><span lang="ES-PE"> cream </span>sauce, garbanzos and camarones, fried <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span>, escabeche de <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span><span lang="ES-PE"> </span>(camarones with cooked onions in a yellow sauce), ceviche de <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span>, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The biggest disappointment of the day (weekend) was I wasn’t invited to be a judge where you get to eat everything.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Turned out to be OK though, because I would have had to have worn a suit and tie and it’s already hot out.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I did get to taste the various dishes though so don’t feel bad for me. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">While the judges were tallying the votes (my host mom won by the way with the a <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span><span lang="ES-PE"> </span>salad – she won a coffee maker but doesn’t drink coffee), there were death-defying dune buggy races.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The race started in the Plaza de Armas, crossed the Panamerican Highway, down a dirt road out into the country, and back again roaring through the middle of the plaza.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I guess I can’t really say death-defying at this point because one of the dune buggies flipped, wound up in an irrigation ditch and one of the participants had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Frankly I’m surprised there weren’t more people hurt. They didn’t do any kind of crowd control so a kid escaping the grasp of his mother could have darted out into the street and got tagged, or a buggy could have been nailed by a trailer barreling down the highway. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">After the dune buggy races they had VW Bug races.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Herbie the Lovebug didn’t make it but these cars were pretty souped up and had their sponsors painted on the side of them in latex house paint or printed on a sheet of paper taped in their window.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The bug sponsored by Generade, a cheap knock off of Gatorade, won.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I suppose if Tiger Woods is hurting for sponsors these days he could give Generade a call. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">After came the eating.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They had ceviche de <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span>, causa de <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span><span lang="ES-PE"> </span>(kind of a mashed potato sandwich filled with <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span><span lang="ES-PE"> </span>that you eat with a fork), <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón</span><span lang="ES-PE"> </span>soup, and fried <span lang="ES-PE" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-PE">camarón.</span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had the ceviche and I swear to you that one of the camarones was the size of a small lobster (which I guess it kind of what is - the point is it was the biggest camaron I've ever seen).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>People were of course throwing back beer and pisco but I was walking wounded from the night before so I didn’t partake. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Next festival you ask?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, the Garbanzo Festival is next weekend in Santa Cruz and another nearby town’s festival is the week after so my dance cards pretty full.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Thanks for asking though. </p>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-40730304621458390552011-08-18T18:50:00.000-07:002011-08-18T20:42:12.471-07:00I Hate Dogs<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NRTpm4b1K-0/Tk3SuY13QUI/AAAAAAAAAjU/3ZzBGztZ3AQ/s400/IMG_6815.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642397602549285186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><div><div style="text-align: center;">Rex trying to escape via the roof using the ladder. This is as far as he can get though. Of course he can't climb back down so I have to pull his dumb-ass off of there (after leaving him up there about 30 minutes though).</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uYE_u2nklmQ/Tk3Su8n77MI/AAAAAAAAAjk/jZNB9rsQOtE/s1600/IMG_6379.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uYE_u2nklmQ/Tk3Su8n77MI/AAAAAAAAAjk/jZNB9rsQOtE/s400/IMG_6379.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642397612154547394" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Rex's archenemy (or best friend - I can't tell)</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tR3oTU8ARDI/Tk3Sunyj61I/AAAAAAAAAjc/Ira2BZHdazs/s1600/IMG_6377.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tR3oTU8ARDI/Tk3Sunyj61I/AAAAAAAAAjc/Ira2BZHdazs/s400/IMG_6377.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642397606561966930" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Good times gone bad. Two dogs stuck together after coitus. They were stuck, yelping for about 5 minutes.</div><p class="MsoNormal">I used to be a dog person.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Foochie, Sparky, Top, Buddy – all faithful and loving companions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now that I’ve lived in Peru nearly two years, I hate dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Some folks are responsible pet owners and take good care of their dogs – they feed them and keep them in their house or backyard (or roof as a cheap but effective alarm system). Everyone else is a shitty pet owner who lets their dog run around in the streets where they’re either fighting or f*cking.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Rex, my host family’s dog, is a beautiful black lab.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> Most times he's a huge pain in the ass but he's </span>been kind of entertaining the past couple of weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My host family has a gamecock that they let run around in the backyard.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The cock thinks it’s a dog or the dog thinks it’s a cock - either way, they fight all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The cock will attack Rex and relentlessly peck the shit out of the poor dog, even though the dog starts it most of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The cock will chase Rex around the backyard until Rex gets tired at which point he’ll turn around and grab the cock’s entire head in its mouth and gnaw on it a while.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When Rex lets him go, the tenacious cock will go right back to chasing and pecking.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve been bitten twice by dogs here.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The first time Rex escaped from the back yard and followed me to buy bread in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When we got to the bakery the owner’s dog Bobby, a small older gray dog that would be kind of cute if it wasn’t such a shithead, started fighting with Rex.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I got caught in the middle and got bit on the ankle.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It wasn’t a bad bite but it was enough to bleed all over my sock for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I got home, cleaned the wound and called the Peace Corps doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She told me to go find the vaccination records which of course the owners didn’t have.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Even though rabies isn’t a big problem in Peru, I still had to go to Lima to get rabies vaccinations (not the painful ones in the stomach thank God).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Last week, I was walking to buy bread and saw Bobby in the plaza. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I gave Bobby a wide berth and kept walking on my merry way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The little f*cker circled back around behind me and bit the shit out of my ankle again.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I go running in the evenings, dogs will chase me down the street until I bend down to pick up a handful of rocks to throw at them. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s times like that I wish I was Nolan Ryan so I could bean the little shitheads with a rock at 100 mph (or put them in a head lock and pound the shit of them like they were Robin Ventura).</p></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-85525496606761894812011-07-30T13:47:00.000-07:002011-07-30T14:08:17.556-07:00Velada Artistica (The Talent Show)<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K2Hb3RD-J58/TjRxAxz6_3I/AAAAAAAAAi0/fnGGM_M50mk/s1600/IMG_6381.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K2Hb3RD-J58/TjRxAxz6_3I/AAAAAAAAAi0/fnGGM_M50mk/s400/IMG_6381.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635253291932385138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></p></div><div style="text-align: center;">My friend and socio Munañte picking up a donated cake to be raffled.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xi0NSo3S2gk/TjRxBNuzXJI/AAAAAAAAAi8/ZvyBl84nelA/s1600/IMG_6391.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xi0NSo3S2gk/TjRxBNuzXJI/AAAAAAAAAi8/ZvyBl84nelA/s400/IMG_6391.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635253299427105938" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></p></div><div style="text-align: center;">Horsing around with some kids before the event.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2bybs8XrOHI/TjRxBU5QMcI/AAAAAAAAAjE/nFgEqpw1qx4/s1600/IMG_6438.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2bybs8XrOHI/TjRxBU5QMcI/AAAAAAAAAjE/nFgEqpw1qx4/s400/IMG_6438.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635253301349986754" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Send in the clowns</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FntK59AMsZk/TjRxBjywmDI/AAAAAAAAAjM/IEUSE_sSimU/s400/IMG_6443.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635253305349281842" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;">Jess and Nikki singing.</div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">We held a talent show here in Big River to raise funds for a single mom who has cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Around 150 people showed up to watch several singing and dancing acts put on by the various schools and institutions of Rio Grande.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The community really came together and donated their time, effort and money to help out one of their own.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Some of the highlights included a clown and his son doing acrobatics, dancing and telling jokes (Peruvian clowns still creep me out a little but the crowd really liked it).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Teachers from the inicial (kindergarten) danced a hilarious routine. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The kids from primaria (elementary school) and secundaria (high school) danced traditional numbers.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A little girl from an elementary school in a different town danced to a popular cumbia song called La Loba (The She Wolf).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Another little girl from Rio Grande wasn’t going to let the out-of-towner get all the attention so she jumped into the middle of her act and the little girls had a dance-off.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The girl from Palpa got served.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">A few Peace Corps Volunteers that live in the area also performed.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Caitlin from Nasca did a juggling/pantomime act.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Nikki and Jess from Palpa played guitar and sang.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But Vivaan from El Ingenio stole the show.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The clown tried to pull me out to dance in front of everyone but since I have two left feet and a tin ear I told the clown to pick on Vivaan instead.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Vivaan got up reluctantly, looked a little pissed, and walked slowly up to the clown.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The music started, the clown started dancing, and Vivaan stood there a second with his hands in his pockets. All of a sudden he busted into his famous, high energy Vivaan dance moves.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Everyone was clapping and cheering and laughing their asses off.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He also made a substantial donation to the cause.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The lowlights of the event were me singing Hotel California and the clown making me dance in front of everyone anyway.</p>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-10602887690742172912011-07-05T09:49:00.000-07:002011-07-06T09:36:31.150-07:00America!! F*ck Yeah!! (Part II)<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ek1yhFhK5Dg/ThNFSzYX0mI/AAAAAAAAAh0/M6fwIF_rdD0/s1600/IMG_5975.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ek1yhFhK5Dg/ThNFSzYX0mI/AAAAAAAAAh0/M6fwIF_rdD0/s400/IMG_5975.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625916548848276066" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Giving a Peace Corps presentation at HUB International, my former employer.</div><p class="MsoNormal">The next morning after bombing the Oral Assessments, I woke up early and was over the little pity party I’d thrown for myself the night before without so much as pity party hangover (there was no drinking at this party by the way).</p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Thursday</b> – I went in to visit my old boss and old work companions at HUB International and to give a presentation on my life and times as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Peru (Peace Corps Goal 3).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>About 20-30 people came by and the presentation went great.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>People asked a ton of great questions and one of my former co-workers said that she learned a lot making it all worthwhile.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After, the Risk Consulting boys and I went out for a late lunch and beers and others came by after work to chill out a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was really great to see everyone at my old place of employment and they told me they’d welcome me back at HUB when I was finished with the Peace Corps.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> Later, </span>I went to hang out with my old basketball team, Scoregasm (formerly known as "I'd Hit That"), at Durkin’s after they had just won the league championship.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was a complete surprise to most of the guys and they welcomed me with open, albeit sweaty, arms.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t003mjRbi1Q/ThNFTkCaoyI/AAAAAAAAAiE/PJXg_hz6uxc/s400/IMG_5986.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625916561909523234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;">The HUB International crew - Tom Heebner, Rene Rosa, and Maranda Haluska.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bFiPWXrtuzw/ThNFTDqUC0I/AAAAAAAAAh8/qHnDQWuCus8/s400/IMG_5989.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625916553218493250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;">League Champion Scoregasm - Ivan, Storm, Tom, Gary, Sherwin</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><b>Friday</b> – Cubs game!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My buddy Nick Albu wrangled up some excellent free tickets to the Cubs vs. Yankees game so me, Chris, Nick, and one of Nick’s clients went to the game.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I bought my scorecard and pencil from John who’s been selling them at Wrigley Field since the place was built in 1914.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We had a few beers, saw the Cubs beat the Yankees and got to hang out with Chris’ carpenter buddies in carpenter shop in the bowels of Wrigley, a place most fans don’t get to go.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Afterwards we went to my old watering hole Monsignor Murphys to have a couple of pints.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The whole gang was there and up to the same old shenanigans.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Apparently, though, hardly anyone ever hangs out there anymore.</div><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2e0rw_nnma8/ThNFTxuBQqI/AAAAAAAAAiM/cMjTe0qws_o/s400/IMG_6000.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625916565582070434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;">At the Cubs game with Nick and the Mity One</div> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>Saturday</b> – Cubs game & Monsignor Murphys Part II.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Basically a replay from the day before except the Cubs lost and I did get to see a bunch of folks I didn't see the night before.</p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AjlpHk-F0D0/ThSMcqt_FnI/AAAAAAAAAis/7oHtODBY1dk/s400/IMG_6069.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626276258623985266" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">At Monsignor Murphys with Joan and Sexy Johnny.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Sunday</b> – Father’s Day.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Started off by playing some softball with the old co-rec softball team.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After, I went out to the mean streets of Arlington Heights to hang out at Nick’s beautiful house in the burbs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> Who knew my friends were such prolific breeders?! </span>There I saw my extended surrogate family - Chris and his fam, Chris and Nick’s parents, cousins, all the kids, the Paulsons, and Greg Carlson’s family with the twins and their two week old baby girl. It was a great time!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Nick’s wife Sandra brought a ton of beef tenderloin from Morton’s Steak House, Nick grilled them masterfully and everyone brought sides and deserts.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Absolutely delicious.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was a great time and great to see everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Chris and Krissa dropped me off at the El Station and that’s when it hit me that I was going back to Peru and won’t see everyone for a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s wrong for a man to cry in the arms of another man unless one of them is dying in a foxhole but I almost did cry hugging it out with the Mity Albu (I didn’t though so LAY OFF!)</p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q_8g_d8dZ5w/ThSI26WFAyI/AAAAAAAAAic/1Abt5dh9-nU/s400/IMG_6078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626272311448765218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div><div style="text-align: center;">Sunday softball team</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7nJ5ZrRCyEM/ThNFUEkPZXI/AAAAAAAAAiU/sll2bgYYO1w/s400/IMG_6083.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625916570641327474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;">Men and meat!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hIIWntc5opw/ThSMcG1hgkI/AAAAAAAAAik/qncvc2k-1r8/s400/IMG_6086.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626276248991924802" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">The Carlson clan.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><b>Monday</b> – One last lunch with the HUB Risk Consulting boys, off to the airport, and 1<sup>st</sup> Class all the way back to the 3rd World.<span> </span>Having some flight attendant past her prime handing you a hot towlette and repeatedly refilling your wine glass helped ease back into Peru.</div><div><br /></div><div>Although I was bummed about bombing the shit out of the Oral Assessment, it was great to see my second home and all my friends.</div> <p class="MsoNormal">Chicago I love you. I miss you.</p></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-27584503083513856002011-07-05T08:42:00.000-07:002011-07-05T09:46:15.394-07:00America!! F*ck Yeah!! (Part I)<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MbPWjdaeYWU/ThM0B4qRDbI/AAAAAAAAAg8/hMgdvwMqbhc/s1600/IMG_5974.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625897566510058930" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MbPWjdaeYWU/ThM0B4qRDbI/AAAAAAAAAg8/hMgdvwMqbhc/s400/IMG_5974.JPG" /></a></div><div><div><div align="center"> Air Force One in Miami International Airport. I hope Obama raised a hell of alot of money because he created one huge pain in my ass.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bc1bPaEH6QA/ThM_Xs1UDYI/AAAAAAAAAhs/QROTMEqouZg/s400/IMG_5993.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625910035920194946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">View from my suite in downtown Chicago. </div><div><br /></div><div>Every time I go to Chicago, I’m more and more convinced that it’s the greatest city in the universe! I travelled to Chicago to take the Oral Assessment, one of the final hurdles to being accepted as a Foreign Service Officer by the State Department. I planned the trip back in February so I’d have a little taste of summer time in Chicago.</div></div><br /><strong>Monday</strong> – I flew out of Lima at 7:30 in the morning en route to Miami. I was a little nervous about the flight because a regular seat on an airplane is like being crammed into a Peruvian tico taxi for me – especially when the ahole in front of you wants to recline his seat all the way. I got to the airport early though and flirted a bit with the girl at the ticket counter and she booked me exit rows all the way to Chicago! Now as a kid I spent many, many hours at Miami International Airport going back and forth from Venezuela to Texas. Most of those hours were spent making my mom’s life a living hell and checking payphones for change with my kid brother. I did look around for some payphones to check them for old time sake but couldn’t find any anywhere - so I called my mom to give her shit instead.<br /><br />President Obama and his entourage were in Miami for a fund raiser and all flights in and out were delayed until Obama left the airport. It was very cool to see Air Force One but not cool that it delayed my flight for over two hours causing me to miss my connection in Atlanta. I wound up getting put on a different airline to Midway instead of O’Hare and of course my bags were nowhere to be found when I landed. Highlight – my good buddy Chris Albu made the perfect pick up at the airport at midnight complete with a couple of welcome cans of Old Style and we hit the White Palace for a late dinner. People speak English in America which is cool.<br /><br /><strong>Tuesday</strong> – I spent most of the day trying to track down my luggage and a suit for my Oral Assessments the next day (just in case my shit didn’t show up). I called a buddy of mine Seth who is about my height and build and he lent me a very nice stockbrokery-type suit and tie. His fiancée Rosa, a sister of a good buddy of mine who lives here in Peru (an it’s small world story), was kind enough to help me pick out and try on various suits. We found one that fit perfectly except the pants were just a wee bit short. I also ran into Chris’ wife Krissa at a TJ Max downtown while I was buying socks and underwear. I should have spent the day preparing for my Oral Assessments but I couldn’t very well go in looking and smelling like I’d been wearing the same Peace Corps clothes for the last two weeks (which I had).<br /><br /><strong>Wednesday</strong> – The big day - Oral Assessment for the State Department. The moment I’d been preparing for. The Oral Assessment is more than just an interview – it is an all day event. The first challenge was a group exercise where six other candidates were in a room, we each had to read a big packet of information and give a six minute presentation to the group defending our particular scenario. Bombed it because I didn’t read the directions carefully enough and I’d prepared with different types of scenarios. Challenge 2 – the structured interview. I sat with two interviewers who read from a script, wrote the whole time, didn’t make any eye contact and barely acknowledged what I was saying. Did OK there. Challenge 3 – The case management exercise. Again, they give you a big packet of information and you have to read it and write a 2 page memo. I could have said what I needed to say in one so I had to throw extra, unneeded, wordy, superfluous bullshit in there (it is the US government after all). And the results… Bombed the shit out of everything. I walked out of the building after receiving results I didn’t want to hear and it was pouring outside. At least four of the six candidates with me failed too.<br /><br />I was quite upset that I’d prepared and travelled all this way to fail. That evening I should have gone to hang out with Albu and his family but I was feeling pretty devastated and antisocial so I wandered the streets of Wrigleyville aimlessly trying to get my mind around everything.</div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-87143954030020286172011-06-05T19:32:00.000-07:002011-06-06T05:04:28.702-07:00Decision 2011 – Part III<div><div align="left">Well here we are decision time down here in Peru. Quick review. There were 10 candidates for the president of Peru, we had the first round of elections back in April, no one got 50% of the votes so the top two vote getters advanced to the segunda vuelta (the Finals) – Keiko Fujimori and Ollanta Humala. Keiko is the daughter of a corrupt dictator in jail for human rights violations and Ollanta is a former military man with ties to Venezuelan despot Hugo Chavez. So it’s down to choosing between cancer and AIDS according to Nobel Prize winning Peruvian author Mario Vargas Llosa. So what’s been going on between the first round of elections in April and now?<br /><br />Keiko’s pulled in some, in my opinion, pretty good supporters. There’s Hernando De Soto (the economist not the conquistador) author of <span style="font-style:italic;">The Other Path: The Invisible Revolution in the Third World</span> and <span style="font-style:italic;">The Mystery of Capital: Why Capitalism Triumphs in the West and Fails Everywhere Else</span>, and Pedro Pablo Kuzcinski, former Minister of Economy, among them. Ollanta also pulled in some pretty impressive, if not surprising, backers – author Mario Vargas Llosa and Alejandro Toledo, past president and presidential candidate who lost out in the first round.<br /><br />So as in elections everywhere, the last eight weeks have been filled with mudslinging, debates, campaigns and accusations in the press. The press is scared shitless of Ollanta so he’s been getting the lion’s share of bad press. There have been accusations that he murdered women and children when he was in the military. There have also been reports that he’s received upwards of $12 million from Hugo Chavez.<br /><br />My town seems split. Many seem to be supporting Keiko because they’re scared Ollanta will f*ck everything up. Ollanta has his loyal, and vocal, supporters.<br /><br />And the winner is….</div><div> </div><div>AIDS!!</div><div> </div><p align="center"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614932016690480562" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OGZPIBTuJLY/Tew-64TNxbI/AAAAAAAAAg0/pMrZeXfSW0w/s400/Ollanta-Humala-007.jpg" /></p><div align="left"> </div><p></p><div> </div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-87403455596989111442011-05-28T23:06:00.000-07:002011-06-04T05:59:51.763-07:00Vive el Santo!!<div><div><div><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pKelPnFrD8w/TeHmbwUNh-I/AAAAAAAAAgI/_MHxUCXJA5I/s1600/IMG_5708.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612019975180879842" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pKelPnFrD8w/TeHmbwUNh-I/AAAAAAAAAgI/_MHxUCXJA5I/s400/IMG_5708.JPG" /></a>Mila (daughter of Maria), Maria (pension owner), Senaida (host mom)<div> </div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mLAwpGZWtbU/TeHkgNgKNgI/AAAAAAAAAf4/ccSlpQl6saE/s1600/IMG_5714.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612017852711843330" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mLAwpGZWtbU/TeHkgNgKNgI/AAAAAAAAAf4/ccSlpQl6saE/s400/IMG_5714.JPG" /></a>Salud!</div><div align="center"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612017853580945106" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xv2OLl7wXS4/TeHkgQvXptI/AAAAAAAAAgA/dtQsZ6uBPyk/s400/IMG_5729.JPG" />Salud (w/ empty bottle)<br /><div align="left">I wanted my birthday to slip by under the radar this year because 44 sounds old even though I feel like I’m 27 (except after playing basketball for 2 or three hours). So I didn’t tell the Volunteers in my area or anyone else in my community. I just wanted to do my work, go home, and go to bed early and let it pass unnoticed.<br /><br />But someone in my community had written it down somewhere and remembered. In the morning, I got a call from my host mother and the woman who runs the pension where I eat lunch and they sang me the Spanglish version of Happy Birthday. I was pretty surprised and a little moved (almost single tear) that they remembered. They told me they were going to throw me a little get together in the evening. I didn’t want them to go through the bother but it would have been rude to decline.<br /><br />I worked all day doing recycle charlas (talks) in the high school, went to Palpa to run some errands and came back to the house. My host mother cooked me a nice supper. Couldn’t tell you what it was exactly - chicken in an improvised sauce with rice. It was delicious. Maria from the pension and her daughter came by as did Jess and Nikki, a couple of nearby Volunteers. Thank goodness Temito came by so I had some male company and wasn’t completely outnumbered by women.<br /><br />After eating, we listened to some Salsa music, bullshat, drank some beer and homemade wine, and listened to Jess and Nikki play the guitar. When we were winding down the festivities, the mayor sent over a half a case of beer.<br /><br />It was a really nice, low-key evening on my birthday here in Rio Grande and my host family and friends made it special. Facebook nation also remembered and I got ton of warm wishes.<br /><br />Other male friends in my community heard that it was my birthday and told me I wasn’t getting off the hook that easy and that there was beer drinkin’ to be done this weekend. Maybe I’ll celebrate a little more during Opening Day of the cockfighting season this Saturday!!</div></div></div></div></div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-80401016241417890552011-05-24T14:57:00.000-07:002011-05-24T15:09:34.887-07:00Mercy Missions<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hQsyE3wiNI4/TdwrA3Rsc-I/AAAAAAAAAfo/O91NkH_p90A/s1600/IMG_5481.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610406529634956258" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hQsyE3wiNI4/TdwrA3Rsc-I/AAAAAAAAAfo/O91NkH_p90A/s400/IMG_5481.JPG" /></a> Not as bloody and gorey as I had imagined.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_BhjomgYqss/TdwrAmtk16I/AAAAAAAAAfg/eB84oQDPWCU/s1600/IMG_5452.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610406525188495266" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_BhjomgYqss/TdwrAmtk16I/AAAAAAAAAfg/eB84oQDPWCU/s400/IMG_5452.JPG" /></a> Pre- and post-op team.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LVRSFinlg3I/TdwrAOdfTjI/AAAAAAAAAfY/nmRgsUuKEco/s1600/IMG_5446.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610406518678572594" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LVRSFinlg3I/TdwrAOdfTjI/AAAAAAAAAfY/nmRgsUuKEco/s400/IMG_5446.JPG" /></a> Patients lined up in the hall waiting their turn.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L0ecjX6K2mA/Tdwq_z4rotI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/CzzOYousnTg/s1600/IMG_5424.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610406511544869586" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L0ecjX6K2mA/Tdwq_z4rotI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/CzzOYousnTg/s400/IMG_5424.JPG" /></a> Peruvian surgeons removing a tumor.<br /><br /><div align="left">Earlier this month a group of 13 doctors and nurses from the Detroit area came to do a surgery campaign in the town of Palpa about 10 minutes from where I live. The campaign was organized by the local Rotary Club and several Peace Corps Volunteers translated for the doctors and nurses.<br /><br />The last time I was in an emergency room (when I wasn’t the patient that is) was when I was a freshman in college. I took a buddy of mine who’d slept with his hard contacts in to the university’s quack shack. His eyes were swollen shut and he was in a lot of pain. He laid down on the examining table and the doctor opened up his eyes to put in some drops. He cried out in pain and a lot of tears poured down his face. I felt light headed, my knees buckled and I would have passed out had I not found a nearby chair and a promising career in medicine ended before it began.<br /><br />So I was a little apprehensive about going into an operating room to translate for patients who were having surgery but were awake and able to talk. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle actual blood and guts. But it wasn’t that bad and I didn’t even come close to fainting. A helpful pointer from one of the nurse antesthetists was that blood was just red water.<br /><br />The campaign was very well organized by the local Rotarians and all the patients showed up on time and waited their turn patiently (even though cutting in line is a bit of an art form down here). I did have a couple of people pull me aside and ask me what kind of strings I could pull to squeeze a family member in but I had no pull.<br /><br />One lady showed up who didn’t have an appointment and happened to catch the lead surgeon on a break. She asked him to take a look at a lump on her foot that hurt when she wore sandals. The doctor said he could remove it. Then she got greedy and asked about a tiny lump on her thigh. The surgeon poked around and asked if it hurt. She said no so the doc said to not worry about it. Later that afternoon she changed her story and told the same doctor that the lump on her thigh hurt but the doc called bullshit on her and told her he would only operate on the foot.<br /><br />The next day she came back apparently having told the organizers that the docs were going to remove both lumps and sat there kind of smug. When they called her name she got up with a big smile on her face and went in. Her face quickly changed when she realized that a couple of Peruvian doctors were going to do the surgery instead of the Americans. Her face went from “Hell yeah! I’m going to see U2 live in concert” to “godammit this is a shitty U2 cover band”. She only had the lump on her foot removed by the way.<br /><br />Weird shit I saw. A tumor the size of an orange on the back of someone’s neck, a hernia that was so bad the guy look like he had elephantitis of the balls, an infant with an extra thumb (teach him to pitch don’t have it removed) and a man with a hair lip that had never been repaired. </div><br /><div align="left">Thanks to Mercy Missions for coming down to Palpa and for all the good work. Enjoyed getting to know you all and look forward to seeing you again if you come down in October.</div></div></div><br /></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-78911234725508302022011-04-26T15:30:00.000-07:002011-04-26T16:08:26.287-07:00The Corner Store<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g4jjpIaKhS4/TbdNbfEGa5I/AAAAAAAAAfI/pLrItz0PN-g/s1600/IMG_5305.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600029796249004946" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g4jjpIaKhS4/TbdNbfEGa5I/AAAAAAAAAfI/pLrItz0PN-g/s400/IMG_5305.JPG" /></a> The general store on the corner.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yh05bIHH9C8/TbdNbKJZFII/AAAAAAAAAfA/KS9cCDoKGuQ/s1600/IMG_5307.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600029790634054786" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yh05bIHH9C8/TbdNbKJZFII/AAAAAAAAAfA/KS9cCDoKGuQ/s400/IMG_5307.JPG" /></a> Inside the store.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0QnWhBlJVHE/TbdNa9Ucx8I/AAAAAAAAAe4/COPHUsvGjGI/s1600/IMG_5308.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600029787190773698" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0QnWhBlJVHE/TbdNa9Ucx8I/AAAAAAAAAe4/COPHUsvGjGI/s400/IMG_5308.JPG" /></a> Don Manuel - one of my favorite people in Rio Grande (when he´s not selling me cheese that tastes like acetone or filled with worms)<br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Most days around midmorning when it’s already hotter´n hell out, I run down to the little general store at the entrance of Rio Grande to drink an ice cold Inca Cola and shoot the shit with Don Manuel (Chino), the owner. Don Manuel worked his whole life as a miner, saved his money, and when it came time to retire he came to Rio Grande with his wife to buy a little store and enjoy their retirement. He’s a widower now and has been in the Big River for quite some time.<br /><br />He’ll tell me stories of his time working as a miner (which are not as harrowing as I would have expected them to be) and tell me how it was back in the day under this dictator or that dictator, what it was like during the Shining Path days, about when times were good, why Peruvians are jodido (screwed), etc.... You know, shit that old retired men talk about over coffee at McDonalds at 6:30 in the morning. Other mornings he’ll complain mildly about how it sucks to get old and how his dick doesn’t work and will look at me with a mischievous grin as if to say - this is your future son.<br /><br />This morning as I was drinking my Inca Cola and Don Manuel was shuffling around doing stuff. I noticed he had a bunch of signs hanging on the walls like some back woods Texas dive bar. Here are some of Don Manuel’s words of wisdom:<br /><br /><strong>¿Porque prefiero una chela que a una mujer?<br /></strong>1. Porque no habla.<br />2. Porque no asa.<br />3. Porque es rubia de verdad.<br />4. Porque está dispuesta a saciarme.<br />5. Porque es económica.<br />6. Porque es rica a toda hora.<br />7. Porque no tiene papa.<br />8. Porque mientras mas fría es mejor.<br />9. Porque la puedo compartir.<br />10. Porque es fácil de conseguir.<br />11. Porque puedo estar con varias al mismo tiempo.<br /><br /><strong>Why do I prefer a beer to a woman?<br /></strong>1. Because it doesn´t speak.<br />2. Because it doesn´t give me shit.<br />3. Because it´s a true blonde.<br />4. Because it´s available satisfy me.<br />5. Because it´s economical.<br />6. Because it´s delicious anytime.<br />7. Because it doesn´t have a dad (there was no accent so it could have also read Doesn’t have a potato or Doesn´t have a vagina – we´ll stick with dad).</div><br /><div align="left">8. Because the colder the better.<br />9. Because I can share it.<br />10. Because it´s easy to find.<br />11. Because I can be with many at the same time. </div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-64098568618526340182011-04-13T07:26:00.000-07:002011-04-13T15:34:40.872-07:00Decisión 2011 – Part II<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-stcMWVVE6Wg/TaYjGXUc57I/AAAAAAAAAew/p6DbzMw6J54/s1600/Copia%2Bde%2Bkeiko%2Band%2Bhumala.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595198179300403122" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-stcMWVVE6Wg/TaYjGXUc57I/AAAAAAAAAew/p6DbzMw6J54/s400/Copia%2Bde%2Bkeiko%2Band%2Bhumala.jpg" /></a> Keiko & Ollanta </div><br /><div align="left">Well here we are a couple of days after the Peruvian presidential/congressional elections. And the winner is… well there’s not one yet but the field of 10 has been narrowed down to two – Ollanta Humala and Keiko Fujimori. Here was the breakdown after the Sunday’s 1st round of voting with 90% of the votes counted - Ollanta “The good soldier” Humala- 31.7%; Keiko “I’m not a dictator like my daddy” Fujimori – 23.3%; Pedro Pablo “El Gringo” Kuczynski – 18.8$; Alejandro “El Cholo” Toledo – 15.4 % and Luis “El Mudo” Castañeda - 10%. The remaining five also rans totaled up to about 1%. And the APRA candidate… Zero point zero. Mr. APRA – fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life. The 0% is due to a colossal APRA failure for not fielding a candidate despite a fairly successful run under the current Aprista president. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Brief recap of the two remaining candidates – Humala is the nationalist candidate who is promising a redistribution of wealth and has ties to Hugo Chavez of Venezuela and Evo Morales of Bolivia. Fujimori is the daughter of a former corrupt dictator of Peru who is promising… well, I’m not sure what she’s promising other than not being a corrupt dictator like her dad. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Six months ago Nobel Laureate (and failed presidential candidate) Mario Vargas Llosa boldly predicted that if it came down to the run-off between Humala and Fujimori it would be like choosing between cancer and AIDS. Since, he supported Toledo and asked PPK and Castaneda to back out of the race less than a week before the elections. Now gets to make that choice. Some respect his right to state his opinion. Others believe he should shut his mouth stick to writing books about military cadets and circle jerks. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Now it’s time for my APOLITICAL bold prediction. Keiko takes it on June 5. Keiko might give PPK a call and offer him a high level position in her government in turn for his endorsement (how about a PPKeiko mascot – a little furry chinita?). Not that PPK supporters care about any of that political maneuvering - they´re young, savvy, and educated and will be physically, mentally and spiritually unable to vote for Ollanta. So all PPK votes go to Keiko. Where do the Toledo, Castaneda supporters go? Who knows so we’ll split them evenly between Keiko and Ollanta. And how about we give the 1% that the other also-rans garnered to Ollanta. The blank votes should be factored in somehow but I have no idea how so we’ll just throw them out (I never said I was a political analyst and I’m horrible at math). </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">So that leaves us with Keiko winning the election with 54% of the votes and Ollanta in second with 46%. Factor in the Win Williams margin of error and God’s sense of humor and the Peruvian presidency is pretty much free game. My opinions as to who I would like to see win are as worthless as balls on a priest so I’ve omitted them from this post. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">The folks in my town of Big River are speaking of picking the lesser of the two evils. Why does that sound so familiar? Oh yeah – that was my choice in every US presidential election since at least 1988. </div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-88502878089976753112011-04-04T15:11:00.000-07:002011-04-06T16:15:27.309-07:00Decision 2011<div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591857360626762578" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lJ9Ol9k_8No/TZpEpH7Pw1I/AAAAAAAAAeY/zpOC8QlZyQc/s400/jaime%2Bbayle%2Bfoto.jpg" /> Mock presidential debate during language instruction in training. <br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591857364070221554" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TEaTkxPCeSM/TZpEpUwOxvI/AAAAAAAAAeg/Hu41nBlpVMk/s400/jaime%2Bbayle%2Bfoto2.jpg" /> I played the roll of Jaime Bayly, a local author, TV personality and presidential candidate.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left">Disclaimer - The Peace Corps is an apolitical organization and I as a Volunteer am not allowed to participate in any political activities or support any kind of political party (nor do I want to for that matter). I’m writing this entry as a general information item that you might be interested in. I have my preferences but since I can’t vote down here, my preferences are as worthless as tits on a bull and can only make my life more difficult. So I´ll keep them to myself.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">The Peruvian presidential, congressional and Andean Parlaiment elections are coming this Sunday. There are ten candidates in the running but only five that really have a shot at the actual presidency. Here’s the way it works (as I understand it). Voting is mandatory. If you don’t vote, you have to pay a fine. If a candidate wins over 50% of the votes this Sunday, they will become the next Peruvian president serving a five year term. If no candidate wins 50% of the vote, the top two candidates earning the most votes advance to a run-off election sometime in May. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Here’s a brief recap of the top five candidates in the polls as of this Sunday (3-31-11).</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Ollanta Humala (27.2%) – He’s a former soldier, a nationalistic candidate, and has been associated with President Morales in Bolivia and President Chavez in Venezuela who recently called him a good soldier, whatever that means. Mr. Humala lagged in the polls up until a couple of weeks ago when he surged ahead. When he passed everyone else in the polls, the local economy got jumpy, stockmarket dipped (or plunged depending on which newspaper you picked up) and the US dollar strengthened against the Nuevo Sol. All the other candidates have been piling on since (which is what they do to whomever is ahead in the polls). </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Keiko Fujimori (20.5%) – A congresswoman and the daughter of the ex-president/dictator of Peru Alberto Fujimori who´s sitting in jail for crimes committed during that whole Shining Path thing in the 80´s and 90´s. She attended college in the United States and the folks here have been wondering out loud who paid for her education. She recently got married and had a kid. Of course the million dollar question is will she pardon her father and let him out of jail if she gets elected.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Alejandro Toledo (18.5%) – El Cholo. Was the president of Peru prior to the current president and has a Peace Corps connection. When the Peace Corps was in Peru during the 60’s, a Volunteer lived in Toledo’s house up in the Sierra. The Volunteer later reportedly help get him into an Ivy League school. Toledo brought the Peace Corps back to Peru in 2002 after they were kicked out by some dictator (Velasco?) in the 1970’s. He did come by the Peace Corps 50th Anniversary celebration at the US Ambassadors House. I didn’t have a chance to meet him nor even see him. Reason being, apparently he’s really chato (short). </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Pedro Pablo Kuczynski (18.1$)– El Gringo. PPK (pronounced pe pe ka). Here’s what I’ve heard but have done zero fact checking. However, since I’ve posted this on the internet it automatically makes it true and correct. His parents left Poland during World War II to escape that whole Nazi thing and he was born here. He’s tall and white like a gringo and speaks slow and methodically with just a teeny bit of an accent like a gringo. He’s married to a gringa and up until last week, he had citizenship in the United States just like a gringo. He’s the favorite here in the town where I live and has made a big push the last couple of months. His mascot is the large furry edible rodent…PPCuy. If it walks like a gringo and talks like a gringo… </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Luis Castaneda (12.8%) – Mr. Castaneda is the former mayor of Lima and apparently all the Limeños think he did great work there. They call him El Mudo because he’s run a pretty quiet campaign but he’s piping up a bit now, maybe too late. I watched him on one of those midday talk shows (the ones with the hot scantily clad latina girls) and late evening variety shows (the ones with the hot scantily clad latina girls) and he seems to be a pretty likeable guy with a good sense of humor. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Alright - I will throw in my two cents after all. If I were Peruvian I would vote for Jaime Bayly!! Unfortunately my favorite presidential candidate, Peruvian author and TV talk show host is no longer in the running. What’s he up to these days? He got canned from the TV station here in Peru over a contract dispute, broke up with his Argentinian (?) boyfriend, knocked up a 20-something year old “bad-girl” author, and moved to Miami.</div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-81879887339175986262011-03-08T11:24:00.001-08:002011-03-15T08:13:17.618-07:00Airplane! (One of my favorite movies of all time RIP Leslie Nielsen)<div><br /><div><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581792449530689170" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4HDYF4N9Rb4/TXaCqMQ79pI/AAAAAAAAAd4/TQPGBaiwmFM/s400/airplane2.jpg" border="0" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I´m not a crook!<br /></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ivhil5fvbME/TXaCp7PcQGI/AAAAAAAAAdw/i7bIWQoLOkc/s1600/airplane.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581792444961013858" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ivhil5fvbME/TXaCp7PcQGI/AAAAAAAAAdw/i7bIWQoLOkc/s400/airplane.jpg" border="0" /></a> Mom, Sam and I on the way to Arequipa.<br /><br /><div align="left">Flights are good if you’re going to have to spend over 15 hours in an overnight bus and are not that much more expensive. The planes seem fairly new and hopefully well maintained. I haven't done the overflight to see the Nazca lines yet. "But why not?!" you ask. ¨You´re so close to them!?¨" Well, in the last year and a three months since I've been in Ica, two tourist planes filled with tourist checking out the lines have crashed. Chisme (rumor) has it that one of the flights crashed because the pilot had a heart attack but I also heard that they forgot to fill it up with fuel. Most recently, seven supposed tourists hopped on a brand new plane to see the lines and hijacked the plane. The pilot was released about a week later. The plane was never found. It's almost certainly taking off and landing on a clandestine landing strip in the jungle somewhere shuttling blow for American stockbrokers to powder their noses with.</div></div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-54933020967858233232011-03-08T11:16:00.000-08:002011-03-10T13:54:55.473-08:00You on the bus or off the bus?<div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582569927901216162" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hNXH2GdZDAs/TXlFxY5UfaI/AAAAAAAAAeA/gUVUi2L-wDQ/s400/IMG_4493%255B1%255D" />Street vendors selling chicha (sweet purple corn drink), sebada (wheat drink) and sandwiches to the passengers on the Soyuz at the station in Palpa <br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581790924631642562" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DXWQcy8sqSE/TXaBRbkrEcI/AAAAAAAAAdg/RHr66yA1MGA/s400/bus.JPG" /><br /><div align="center">Fancy bus for overnight long distance trips</div><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581790933937907586" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/---bWThESoQc/TXaBR-PdZ4I/AAAAAAAAAdo/2gF0euy11MY/s400/bus%2B2.JPG" /><br /><div align="center">Inside of fancy bus<br /></div><div align="left">For longer distances, I take a bus. Again, buses range from super nice to super shitty. When I travel from Rio Grande to my capital city of Ica, I’ve got three bus lines to choose from, which ever passes by first. Soyuz is on the nicer side but not super nice (think Greyhound) and Cueva (Cave) is on the shittier side. I’ll let your mind wander on the shitty one – yep you got it (no chickens though – well only one that I’ve seen so far but it was just a chick). I usually take Soyuz between Lima and Ica and generally they’re OK. They have an Ejecutivo (executive) section which means you get a maroon head rest cover and about 4 extra inches of legroom - Well worth the extra 3 soles for a taller bald guy. The busses play movies, generally pirated DVDs of movies that are currently out in the theaters or really bad, loud 80’s action movies starring Steven Segal (for the record, all bad 80´s action movies should be available in pirated form only). You still have to watch your shit on the busses or it will get ripped off.<br /><br />There are super nice busses that are a little out of my PC living allowance range, although I recently found out that they have super saver discounts if you book in advance that are the same price as taking the Soyuz. They’re safe(r), have more leg room, the seats recline almost all the way, they’re climate controlled, and play current pirated romantic comedies. You get dinner or lunch served up by a semi-hot terramoza (bus waitress) or a semi-handsome gay guy. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">The super nice busses have bathrooms for urinating only – but try telling that to the tourist who’s suffering from a case of Tupac Amaru’s revenge. </div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-34695076700685044122011-03-08T11:15:00.001-08:002011-03-23T17:41:20.113-07:00Collectivos<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rfd1PunRngk/TYqSQD9od_I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/tF4XDJuFd_M/s1600/IMG_4603.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587439092345894898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rfd1PunRngk/TYqSQD9od_I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/tF4XDJuFd_M/s400/IMG_4603.JPG" /></a> Me and a collectivo driver in Palpa waiting for the car to fill up with passengers back to Rio Grande<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2u-zoaVyo8/TYqSP6zmCfI/AAAAAAAAAeI/X6x_-TLPk6s/s1600/IMG_4499.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587439089887873522" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2u-zoaVyo8/TYqSP6zmCfI/AAAAAAAAAeI/X6x_-TLPk6s/s400/IMG_4499.JPG" /></a> How many PC Volunteers can you fit in a collectivo (7 in this case but you could add one more up front)<br /><br /><div align="left">Collectivos are communal cabs for lack of a better word. They drive set routes at set points of departure and arrival and at set rates. You just go to the collectivo stand, hop in, wait for the taxi to fill up and you’re off. Collectivos are my main mode of transportation between my site and Palpa. All the collectivo drivers know me and holler at me when they’re driving by me walking around in the street “Beto – Vamos!”. When I’m waiting for the collectivo to fill up in Palpa to come back to Rio Grande, I bullsh*t with the drivers. They’re all pretty cool and friendly. “Habla Beto, quien sospechas?” (Tell me Beto – who do you suspect? I still haven’t figured out what the right response is so I just say “Tu huevon! You - *sshole!”). They’re always asking me if I’ve been to the “nightclubs” yet. Note to self – Nightclub means brothel. Discoteca means dance club.<br /><br />The larger collectivos are station wagons, not the large 70’s family truckster variety but smaller ones. There are also tiny Tico taxis which are about the size of a Ford Festiva, maybe a little smaller. Usually four people pile into the collectivo before it will leave. Sometimes there are two passengers up front and three in the back. One time I was in a Tico going back to Rio Grande with nine people. </div><br /></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-6819895651024314032011-03-08T11:06:00.001-08:002011-03-09T06:42:25.146-08:00Taxi<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3wgfxTy8Who/TXZ_DI-TonI/AAAAAAAAAdY/niaHUGhNb4k/s1600/taxi%2B2.JPG"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581788480097460850" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3wgfxTy8Who/TXZ_DI-TonI/AAAAAAAAAdY/niaHUGhNb4k/s400/taxi%2B2.JPG" border="0" /></a> Tico taxi<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bnO0rGQO5dw/TXZ_DAWB2nI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/4W6CahFaoN4/s1600/taxi%2B1.JPG"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581788477781039730" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bnO0rGQO5dw/TXZ_DAWB2nI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/4W6CahFaoN4/s400/taxi%2B1.JPG" border="0" /></a> Tico taxi with station wagon behind.<br /><br /><div align="left">Taxis are the most expensive way to get around town and you can also wind up looking down the barrel of a loaded gun pointed at you by some dipshit trying to rob you. When picking a cab, you have to be careful you get someone that looks reputable, has a permanent taxi sign on the roof and the car number painted on the side. If you have the luxury of planning ahead, you can call for a taxi which is pretty safe. Once you hail a cab, you have to know more or less what it costs to get where you’re going. The taxis don’t have meters so the taxi drivers quote you a price which you then haggle down a couple of Soles. The fares will increase if it’s rush hour or late at night.<br /><br />Funny anecdote (because it has a more or less happy ending) – a couple of friends of mine were coming back from a discoteca after a night out and needed some late night munchies. The boy was passed out in the back and the girl told the taxi driver to take care of him while she ran in to pick up some burritos (yes, there is a late night burrito stand in Lima but they’re not good-ole-fashion burritos made by real Mexicans). When the girl came back out, the cab was gone along with the friend. The taxi driver woke the boy and dropped him off somewhere safe. As the taxi sped off, the boy realized his I-phone had been stolen. They may have got his wallet too but I can’t remember. Of course we had to give the guy a ration of shit and laughed at him for being a dumbass but it could have easily had a not so happy ending.<br /><br />Not-so-funny anecdote - A friend was coming back from a concert with some Peruvian friends and did all the right things you’re supposed to do while hailing a cab. She, unfortunately, wound up getting robbed at gunpoint and got dropped off in a shitty part of town sans wallet and cell phone. Fortunately she had a little cash stashed away and she and her friends somehow made it back home safely.<br /></div><br /><div align="left">The cabs here may not have the leg room or climate control of a good old American cab. But at least they don´t smell like curry and body odor.</div></div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-71425920779295279372011-03-08T10:53:00.000-08:002011-03-08T11:02:25.832-08:00<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jwu7wTi3CBw/TXZ76rJWffI/AAAAAAAAAdI/kWSYBAKsD0s/s1600/mototaxi%2B3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581785036116884978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jwu7wTi3CBw/TXZ76rJWffI/AAAAAAAAAdI/kWSYBAKsD0s/s400/mototaxi%2B3.JPG" /></a> Mototaxis lined up in front of the mall in Ica<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A6ivg2FlJao/TXZ76e7KD6I/AAAAAAAAAdA/Py6iOZQQUJ4/s1600/mototaxi%2B2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581785032836124578" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A6ivg2FlJao/TXZ76e7KD6I/AAAAAAAAAdA/Py6iOZQQUJ4/s400/mototaxi%2B2.JPG" /></a> Jason Lopez and I in the back of a mototaxi. We´ve both probably lost about 100 lbs. between the two of us since this was taken so we could probably fit another Volunteer in the back now.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TeYIYrMn8-0/TXZ76PBs5RI/AAAAAAAAAc4/5BuRf2FjRXY/s1600/mototaxi.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581785028568605970" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TeYIYrMn8-0/TXZ76PBs5RI/AAAAAAAAAc4/5BuRf2FjRXY/s400/mototaxi.JPG" /></a> I´ll post a blog about the giant arachnids in Peru at a later date<br /></div><div align="left">Mototaxis (or tuk tuks in Thailand) are pretty fun to roll around in for short distances if you’re not on a major a thoroughfare, otherwise it’s pretty terrifying. A mototaxi is a three-wheeled 2-stroke motorcycle with a cab on it. The driver sits up in the front of the cab and in the back there is room for two passengers (unless you’re a Peace Corps Volunteer and you cram 3 in the back and one on the jump seat in front next to the driver all to save a couple of centimos).<br /><br />The fare is generally less than 2 soles and I`ll take them to avoid walking around in the baking Ica sun or if I’m in a hurry to be on time for a meeting that’s going to start 30 minutes late. Mototaxi drivers sometimes have a reputation of being on the shady side and have been known to drive by and snatch purses off pedestrians on the sidewalk. The other problems with mototaxis are they exponentially add to the decibel level on the street with their high pitch scream and blow blue exhaust everywhere they go. That’s why you don’t see mototaxis in nicer neighborhoods of Lima like Miraflores or San Isidro.</div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-21924043572937623412011-03-07T07:04:00.000-08:002011-03-07T07:21:42.962-08:00Travelling in a Fried-out Combi<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ONwEtV4if_c/TXT2joGfl3I/AAAAAAAAAcw/RlTFxVegwCg/s1600/combi%2B3.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ONwEtV4if_c/TXT2joGfl3I/AAAAAAAAAcw/RlTFxVegwCg/s400/combi%2B3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581356930139395954" border="0" /></a>Combi the mean streets of Ica (one of the loudest intersections in Ica)
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YJnDnfb_Kqk/TXT00YsEbJI/AAAAAAAAAcg/EbAdMHqQ_Mo/s1600/combi%2B2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YJnDnfb_Kqk/TXT00YsEbJI/AAAAAAAAAcg/EbAdMHqQ_Mo/s400/combi%2B2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581355019036552338" border="0" /></a>Micro in Ica
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7qYufSJ5iCc/TXT00GXKtSI/AAAAAAAAAcY/07R7pdHiRCQ/s1600/combi%2B1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7qYufSJ5iCc/TXT00GXKtSI/AAAAAAAAAcY/07R7pdHiRCQ/s400/combi%2B1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581355014117045538" border="0" /></a>Micro in Lima
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mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I always wondered what they were talking about in that ‘80s-ass Men at Work song.<span style=""> </span>Now I know.<span style=""> </span>A combi or micro is a mini-bus that can be as small as one of those tiny 80’s Toyota moon vans or larger bus that holds about 20 or 30 people.<span style=""> </span>Knowing which bus to get on is a trick initially.<span style=""> </span>The busses are painted different colors depending on the route.<span style=""> </span>The origin and destination points are on a placard on the front of the bus and the streets along their route are painted on the side.<span style=""> </span>The best way to figure out the route is go with someone who knows.<span style=""> </span>If not, you have to ask someone and pray that you understood what the hell they said and that they actually knew what they were talking about.<span style=""> </span>Ultimately it comes down to trial and error.
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">At the paraderos (bus stops), a number of micros will pull up at the same time with the cobradores (fare collectors) hanging out the side door with one arm yelling out “Sube! Sube! Sube!” (Get on!) and yelling the streets on their route.<span style=""> </span>Meanwhile, you’re trying to listen for your street and reading the street names on the sides of several moving busses to try to pick the one that’s going your direction.<span style=""> </span>It’s really very confusing if you’re unsure of which one you need to take.<span style=""> </span>
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">You can also flag down a combi on the side of the street and they’ll pick you up pretty much anywhere, though the cops are kind of cracking down on that practice.<span style=""> </span>The combi slows down, the cobrador slides opens the side door, you hop in, hold on for dear life as he zooms off, and try to cram yourself into one of the small seats (well, small to me anyway).<span style=""> </span>If there are no seats you gotta stand hunched over and keep an eye out that people don’t try to pick pocket your sh*t.<span style=""> </span>I won’t ride a combi during rush hour traffic because they’re generally pretty packed – and I mean packed to the point that the cobrador is hanging out the side of the bus with both hands holding on for dear life and trying to keep everyone in the bus. <span style=""> </span>Rule of the game for combi drivers – pass the combi in front of him so he can collect more fares.<span style=""> </span>They are, after all, privately owned and trying to make a buck.
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The fares are very reasonable and generally run about 1 or 2 soles (<75 cents>Fare charts are generally posted inside the bus but I’ve yet to decipher one.<span style=""> </span>If you don’t know what the fare is, ask the guy next to you because the cobrador might try to aprovechar (take advantage) of your ignorance and gringoness.
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Some of the newer micros are really nice, large and comfortable.<span style=""> </span>Others are literally “fried out”, have been around for 30+ years, and still have “Kilroy was here” written in Korean.<span style=""> </span>Sometimes they smell like sex that’s been left out in the sun too long.
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Public transportation is public transportation anywhere you go.<span style=""> </span>If you don’t know the system and the area, you’re going to feel lost and it will always be packed during rush hour. After learning my way around Lima and figuring out how the system works, I can get to pretty much wherever I need get without getting too lost, at a good price and, outside of rush hour, relatively comfortable.<span style=""> </span>It’s actually pretty surprising how efficient the system is.<span style=""> </span>It almost beats waiting forever in the dead of winter in a foot of snow for the 154 to take me to downtown Chicago and piling into a bus that has the heaters blowing 90 degrees or turned completely off with a ton of other people.</span></p> Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-63159231077867132672011-03-05T15:09:00.000-08:002011-03-07T07:04:16.297-08:00Planes Trains and Automobiles<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AUWbOFlwkPA/TXLPMpXcS8I/AAAAAAAAAcQ/PTJ8Oz882Co/s1600/IMG_4447.JPG"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580750704435022786" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AUWbOFlwkPA/TXLPMpXcS8I/AAAAAAAAAcQ/PTJ8Oz882Co/s400/IMG_4447.JPG" border="0" /></a>The mean city streets of Ica.</div><br />As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I’m forbidden to drive cars or motorcycles. For good reason - I wouldn’t survive 10 minutes behind the wheel in Lima or Ica without having a wreck. They drive by a whole different set of rules down here. And by rules I mean there aren’t any - well, there are but I don’t know what they are and when I think I’ve got it figured out, it turns out that I don’t. So how do I get around without driving? Well, I walk a lot and take a whole array of public transport (I say public but it’s nearly all privately owned) which include taxis, collectivos (shared taxis), mototaxis, combis/micros (mini-busses), busses, etc.<br /><br />According to Hernando Soto in El Otro Sendero (The Other Path), his book discussing Peruvian informal economies, nearly all of the means of transportation started out extra-legally. In other words, they didn’t register their businesses, pay taxes, get licenses to operate, etc. They simply identified a need, staked out routes, payed off cops, and began running their routes all outside of the formal economic system. Soto’s book was written during the 1980’s and things appear to be more formal in the economic sense - vehicles have their insurance stickers, fares and routes are posted, etc. But you get out on the open road… Look Out! It’s every man for himself.<br /><br />The object seems to go fast, pass the car in front of you, and go even faster. When you’re at a red light, get right up on the bumper of the car in front of you so some jagbag doesn’t cut in front of you but then of course you’re stuck there when the car in front of you breaks down or doesn’t go when the light turns green. Another rule of the road – honk the living sh*t out of your horn even though you’re stuck in traffic and not going anywhere soon. The noise in busy streets in larger cities is maddening. Quick aside – when I arrived in Miami a few weeks ago I had a couple of hours to kill until my flight to Dallas so I went outside to sit in the warm sun for a while. When I got outside there were a ton of cars and busses dropping off, picking up. No noise whatsoever. No horns. No high pitched scream of mototaxis. Just silence. I felt like something was seriously wrong and felt disoriented, like something wasn’t right with the universe.<br /><br />The age, comfort of the vehicles range from something built in the 70’s that’s being held together with Bondo, firing on two of its eight cylinders, and billowing blue exhaust out the tail pipe to vehicles that are brand new, very clean, and comfortable.<br /><br />If you’re a pedestrian, you have to walk con ojos en el trasero (eyes out your rear end). You basically have no rights. You’d better look left, right, left, right, and left again before crossing the street because drivers don’t give a F*****CK about you and won’t slow down to let you cross unless they’re about to hit you in which case it’s probably too late. It’s even worse than St. Louis.<br />As crazy and arbitrary as the public transportation system seems as soon as you first get here, once you figure it out it does make sense and you can get around pretty efficiently and economically. The next couple of posts, I’ll describe the various forms of transportation I use to get from Point A to Point B while hopefully not ending up at Point C which is not somewhere you want to be day or night.Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-47302712275571958492011-03-04T11:19:00.000-08:002011-03-04T11:34:44.519-08:00Peace Corps 50th Anniversary<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mGuE-9TDBq8/TXE9PybF9HI/AAAAAAAAAcA/SS27z5wOlTA/s1600/IMG_4411.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mGuE-9TDBq8/TXE9PybF9HI/AAAAAAAAAcA/SS27z5wOlTA/s400/IMG_4411.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580308754731496562" border="0" /></a>US Ambassador, Peru´s Minister of Foreign Relations, and Peace Corps Chief of Staff addressing the group at the Ministry of Foreign Relations<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MaqF5Cn7itw/TXE9PK18cgI/AAAAAAAAAbw/eBQy7EiK4HE/s1600/IMG_4418.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MaqF5Cn7itw/TXE9PK18cgI/AAAAAAAAAbw/eBQy7EiK4HE/s400/IMG_4418.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580308744106701314" border="0" /></a>Ministry of Foreign Relations<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ed9r2_KdvZc/TXE9Pc3xCBI/AAAAAAAAAb4/sIfWMw0AmLQ/s1600/IMG_4426.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ed9r2_KdvZc/TXE9Pc3xCBI/AAAAAAAAAb4/sIfWMw0AmLQ/s400/IMG_4426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580308748946180114" border="0" /></a>Environment APCD, PC Chief of Staff, PC Regional Director for Latin America, me and the Country Director in front of the US Ambassador´s Residence (they didn´t let us take pictures inside)<br /></div><span lang="EN-US"><br />Fifty years ago this past Tuesday, March 1, President John F. Kennedy signed the Executive Order creating the Peace Corps whose mission was to promote peace, strengthen the bonds between nations, and provide technical assistance to developing nations.<span style=""> </span>During the past 50 years, over 200,000 volunteers have served in over 70 nations world-wide.<span style=""> </span>The Peace Corps came to Peru in the early 1960s and stayed until the early 1970’s when they were unceremoniously booted out by the Velasco dictatorship.<span style=""> </span>The Peace Corps was invited back to Peru in 2002 during Alejandro Toledo’s presidency and has been here ever since.<span style=""> </span>There are now over 200 volunteers serving in Peru along the coast and in the sierra working in the areas of water and sanitation, small business, environment, youth development, and health.</span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">We celebrated Peace Corps’ anniversary here in Peru by throwing a number of receptions in the capital cities of our regions.<span style=""> </span>The main celebration was held in Lima and I was fortunate enough to attend.<span style=""> </span>On Monday, a group of current and former Volunteers, Peace Corps staff, US Embassy staff, Peruvian diplomats and the press attended a reception hosted by the Ministry of Foreign Relations in their offices in the center of Lima.<span style=""> </span>I say offices but the building they occupy is a beautiful two story palace built during the colonial area.<span style=""> </span>Prior to the reception, the Minister of Foreign Relations, US Ambassador and Peace Corps Chief of Staff visiting from Washington gave speeches.<span style=""> </span>The reception was held on the balcony of the second floor overlooking the courtyard where we drank pisco sours, wine and ate tasty finger foods.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The following day, a larger group of Volunteers, who clean up very nicely by the way, went to the US Embassy to hear a state of the Peace Corps discourse given by the Peace Corps Chief of Staff and the Peace Corps Latin America/Pacific Regional Director.<span style=""> </span>We then went to a reception thrown by the US Ambassador to Peru, Rose Likins, at her residence.<span style=""> </span>The Ambassador’s residence is a stunning two story mansion occupying an entire city block.<span style=""> </span>The residence was built in the 1940’s specifically as the US Ambassador’s residence and was crawling with security that night.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">We entered the residence, met the Ambassador in the reception line and entered into the main hall.<span style=""> </span>The first thing you see as you enter is a painting of George Washington which, as cheesy as this sounds, made me feel proud to be an American.<span style=""> </span>To the right of the main entryway is a living room with some large comfy couches and a grand piano.<span style=""> </span>Adjacent is a beautiful library with wood paneled walls and leather high back chairs.<span style=""> </span>Out back is a large garden with a small swimming pool.<span style=""> </span>We weren’t able to go upstairs and see the living quarters but I’m sure they were impressive as well.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The Ambassador and Peace Corps Chief of Staff said some nice words and we toasted the 50 years of Peace Corps.<span style=""> </span>Among the invited were former and current Volunteers, staff, Peruvian counterparts, NGOs and Embassy staff.<span style=""> </span>Alejandro Toledo, the ex-president and current presidential candidate also made an appearance.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">There were plenty of pisco sours and wine to go around and the Volunteers behaved themselves pretty well in the face of free booze.<span style=""> </span>To the left of the entryway was a beautiful dining room with perhaps the largest dining room table I’ve ever seen laid out with a terrific spread of food which was, of course, attacked (civilly mind you) by the Volunteers.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It was a truly wonderful event and further strengthened my resolve to serve my country as a diplomat (I’ve already passed the Foreign Service Exam and the next challenge is the interview/Oral Assessment in June so send some good thoughts my direction)</span></p>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-751406383686192412011-02-01T16:09:00.000-08:002011-02-01T16:27:12.567-08:00I do actually do some work down here<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUiiQ9KjkqI/AAAAAAAAAbk/Ffu5PnQSimw/s1600/DSCN3655.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568879351424062114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUiiQ9KjkqI/AAAAAAAAAbk/Ffu5PnQSimw/s400/DSCN3655.JPG" border="0" /></a> Winner of the bulletin board contest<br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUihjX8IWMI/AAAAAAAAAbc/AwsmwKJ3XSM/s1600/IMG_3468.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568878568337332418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUihjX8IWMI/AAAAAAAAAbc/AwsmwKJ3XSM/s400/IMG_3468.JPG" border="0" /></a> Obstetriz, student health promoters and me<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUihjIIFWMI/AAAAAAAAAbU/25k17PZYIZo/s1600/DSC04453.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568878564092500162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUihjIIFWMI/AAAAAAAAAbU/25k17PZYIZo/s400/DSC04453.JPG" border="0" /></a> Pasacalle through my town (I live a block from here)<br /><br /><div align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUihijnDfnI/AAAAAAAAAbM/8AppkyA1qfs/s1600/DSC04453.JPG"></a></div><div align="left">Looking back on some of my entries, it looks like I'm just down here in Peru "hueveando" (f*#&ing off) and having a good time. But I am actually doing some work as well. Right before the Christmas/New Years holidays, I worked on an HIV/AIDS awareness campaign affectionately known as PEPFAR. PEPFAR is a fund created during the not-so-smart Bush administration to promote HIV/AIDS awareness and improve AIDS treatment world wide. The thought being that a serious problem in other parts of the world would in turn become a serious problem for the US, even though it already is. Per PEPFAR, HIV/AIDS prevention should focus on abstinence first, then marriage/faithfulness, and then condoms. When I informed my local counterparts that we really had to stress abstinence and marriage as part of this program, they laughed at me. Abstinence? Marriage and/or faithfulness? You ain't from around here are ya gringo? Tell ya what, we'll bring up the abstinence and the marriage/faithfulness things but we'll be realistic and really focus on the use of condoms.<br /><br />My community counterparts on this project were the obstetrician in my health post and the nurse health promoter. The target audience of the awareness campaign was high school students. We started out by giving all the students in the school a pre-test asking them about AIDS/HIV, how you can get infected, who can get it, etc. We then selected and trained a group of student health promoters and trained them on all that is HIV/AIDS. Later we gave charlas (talks) to all the students and teachers. We did activities where the students had fun, participated, gave their views, identified risky behaviors, and had hands-on practice (tee hee hee – actually the kids were pretty grown up about the whole thing and only snickered a little when we put rubbers on fake dicks.)<br /><br />After our educational sessions, we had a bulletin board contest. One minor problem - none of the classrooms had bulletin boards. I used some of the grant money to buy materials to build bulletin boards for each class and the students assembled them in shop class. I went to a lumber yard with the shop teacher to buy the materials. There on the shop floor loaded with tripping hazards, they cut the wood to our specifications with open, unguarded table saws with no kill switches getting their fingers within millimeters of the spinning blades. It was a Certified Safety Professional's (CSP®) nightmare. When it came time to pay, it was about twice as much as I had budgeted. But all's well that ends well and the students did a nice job of building solid bulletin boards. Local leaders judged the bulletin board contest and the students were pretty creative and colorful, if not a bit graphic.<br /><br />On World AIDS Day we did a pasacalle (parade/march) through the streets of Rio Grande. The students made signs, the health promoters wore tee shirts they designed, a little band played, and we walked through the streets making buya (noise). I'm not sure how much awareness we raised and it was hot as shit but maybe someone paid attention. At the end, we had soda crackers and chicha morada (a sweet purple corn drink – sounds kind of gross but it's not too bad once you get used to it).<br /><br />At the end of the campaign, we gave a post-test to see what they learned. The results weren't as good as I'd hoped for but scores did improve by around 20%. The 1st and 2nd years students improved considerably. The average for the 5th year students (seniors), however, dropped. I chalk it up to senioritis since we gave the quiz the last week of school and they had probably checked out already.<br /><br />Other projects on the horizon, pending funding, include changing out water supply tubes to increase the volume of potable water coming into my town, building cocinas mejoradas (improved wood burning stoves), recycling and viviendas saludables (healthy household) campaigns.</div></div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-3619894608326277682011-01-27T19:19:00.000-08:002011-01-27T19:53:09.599-08:00Vacaciones con la Familia – Part III<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI6XPhKWhI/AAAAAAAAAbE/tnbEZ-Ezovs/s1600/IMG_4025.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567076260360378898" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI6XPhKWhI/AAAAAAAAAbE/tnbEZ-Ezovs/s400/IMG_4025.JPG" /></a> The fam in front of Monasterio de San Francisco<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI6W4j_UZI/AAAAAAAAAa8/jH7a1gzRgUs/s1600/IMG_4035.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567076254198223250" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI6W4j_UZI/AAAAAAAAAa8/jH7a1gzRgUs/s400/IMG_4035.JPG" /></a> At dinner on Christmas eve.<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI6W7fmKII/AAAAAAAAAa0/PllB53regnw/s1600/IMG_4053.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567076254985103490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI6W7fmKII/AAAAAAAAAa0/PllB53regnw/s400/IMG_4053.JPG" /></a> Erotic exhibit at Larco Museum. Recievee doesn't look all that pleased - a little startled in fact<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI6WmZ0D9I/AAAAAAAAAas/GHMHwqhInz4/s1600/IMG_4061.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567076249323704274" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI6WmZ0D9I/AAAAAAAAAas/GHMHwqhInz4/s400/IMG_4061.JPG" /></a> The honeymooners<br /><br /><div align="left">Lima – Were it not for there fact that the sun literally only shines for 4 or 5 months out of the year, I could live in Lima. Like all big cities, it has some pretty sketchy, crime infested areas but it also has some great areas and nice middle class neighborhoods with their own special feel. But, aaahh, back to civilization and sea level. It was refreshing to land at Jorge Chavez airport and breathe that sweet, sweet, desert-damp, sea-level air and not walk 10 meters without having to stop and breathe. We went to the hotel and chilled for the night. The next day, we went to the Peruvian equivalent of Whole Foods called Vivanda. It might have been the highlight of Mom and Sam's trip – they raved about it. Our hotel was in an area called Miraflores. Miraflores is a wonderful place of Lima but it's certainly not representative of Peru. Miraflores is where the rich, the pitucos, the "Haves" of Peru live.<br /><br />In Lima we did the touristy double-decker bus ride. As we approached the enter of Lima, an historic but kind of shady area with a lot of crime, the view from the second story of the touristy bus was much better than the street level where all the shenanigans go on. During the tour we popped into the San Francisco Monestary, a church that had catacombs stuffed with thousands of bones. Later we hit Larco Mar, a shopping mall built on the side of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean complete with a Tony Roma's, Chili's and TGI Fridays. We also visited a nice museum that had a whole exhibition hall dedicated to pre-columbian porn ceramics that turned me and my brother into giggling adolescents.<br /><br />Christmas in Peru is celebrated at the stroke of midnight. Families gather on Christmas Eve, have dinner, eat paneton (sort of like fruitcake), drink hot chocolate, open presents and drink. We celebrated Christmas by eating at the only restaurant that was open - Chili's. Ordinarily you wouldn't catch me dead eating at a Chili's in the US unless I was in some bullshit suburb with no other choices, but it's amazing how delicious a chicken fried chicken with mashed potatoes and white cream gravy is after a year living here.<br /><br />It was great to see the family again and spend some time together during the holidays.</div></div></div><br /></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-69122258900161182252011-01-27T19:02:00.000-08:002011-01-27T19:18:06.622-08:00Vacaciones con la Familia – Part II<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI0JfAuknI/AAAAAAAAAak/LmuZOpZyjas/s1600/IMG_3948.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567069426931372658" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI0JfAuknI/AAAAAAAAAak/LmuZOpZyjas/s400/IMG_3948.JPG" /></a> Mom and I on the floating islands of Uros<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI0Jejv94I/AAAAAAAAAac/YbokPrM6rTc/s1600/IMG_3970.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567069426809829250" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI0Jejv94I/AAAAAAAAAac/YbokPrM6rTc/s400/IMG_3970.JPG" /></a> The fam on the island of Taquile, Lake Titicaca in the background<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI0JMYMtCI/AAAAAAAAAaU/UZ-eHschh6A/s1600/IMG_3999.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567069421929542690" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUI0JMYMtCI/AAAAAAAAAaU/UZ-eHschh6A/s400/IMG_3999.JPG" /></a> Some temple (?) carved out of rock. The tour guide gave us some explanation about it but it sounded like some shit he just made up.<br /><br /><div align="left">Puno – From Arequipa we took a five hour bus ride to the city of Puno. Puno is on the high plains in the south Peru on the shores of Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world - high meaning around 3,800 meters or 12,500 feet above sea level. Now 12,500 feet didn't sound all that high but it is. After all, there's a group of folks called 14ers who climb peaks of 14K or higher for fun and that's only 1,500 feet higher than where we were, if my math adds up. Anyway, the altitude got to all of us and the Peruvian food got the best of my Mom and bro (happens to all the gringos) so we were winded whilst sprinting to the bathroom.<br /><br />Lake Titicaca has a series of man-made floating islands called the Uros Islands. The floating islands are made of reed roots and reeds lashed together. Around six to ten families live on each floating island in tiny little houses also made of reeds. According to the guide, they eke out their living by fishing, gathering eggs, hunting, bartering and tourism. It was pretty cool hopping off the boat onto a floating, living island but to be quite honest, it was pretty touristy and I doubt that any of the folks actually lived on them. I've heard here and there that the people living on these islands are from the sierra and moved there to make a living off tourism and to avoid paying taxes. Either way, it's a tough way to earn a living. Looking beyond that, it was pretty cool to see a manmade floating island that was built the same way they did back in the olden days. Come to think of it, I don't recall the guide explaining why anyone would originally live that way in the first place – probably to get the hell away from some conquering assholes.<br /><br />From the floating islands, we went to an actual island called Taquile. On the boat trip out there, I sat at the aft of the boat enjoying the sun and thinking that this looks a bit like the Greek Isles except I'm freezing and can't breathe. When we arrived at Taquile the guide pointed up and said we're going up there. So up we hiked because that was where lunch was (20 steps, stop, try to breathe, 20 steps, stop, try to breathe). Painful but worth the view. It was a nice walk on the way down with some impressive vistas.<br /><br />I've been in Peru for over a year now and have seen poverty but not the Christian Children's Fund, Sally Struthers, fly in eyeball kind of poverty. Here in Puno, however, there was abject poverty. Everywhere we went, there were moms with their kids in their papooses on their backs waiting in a big-ass line for a little bit of Christmas paneton (fruit cake?), hot chocolate and maybe a gift for their baby. It wasn’t the kind of mom hacking of the kid's hand to make them more beggable kind of poverty like in Haiti but still heart wrenching to see especially during the Christmas season. </div></div><br /></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-37850564748207021672011-01-27T18:43:00.000-08:002011-01-27T19:02:08.055-08:00Vacaciones con la Familia Part I<div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567064792437548066" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUIv7uLS5CI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/4VmdS_pVEvY/s400/IMG_3888.JPG" /> Mom, Sam and I in Arequipa - Volcano Misti in the background<br /> <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567064794805089218" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUIv72_ws8I/AAAAAAAAAaE/fO1nFpnFltM/s400/IMG_3899a.jpg" />The fam in front of a church outside of Arequipa<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567064801011220898" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TUIv8OHawaI/AAAAAAAAAaM/DkjEiajSPxs/s400/IMG_3905.JPG" />What remains of the cuy I had for dinner<br /><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">I spent Christmas this year with Mom and by brother here in Peru. They came down for a visit to celebrate both Christmas and my Mom's birthday (I was going to say my Mom's 70th birthday but she'd get pissed off at me so I'll just say we celebrated her birthday. For the record, I hope I look as good and get around as good as my mom when I'm 70 – if I even make it that far).<br /><br />Everyone in my town of Rio Grande was asking if the fam was going to make it down to The Big RG but it's hot as hell there right now and I wanted to check out a different corner of this beautiful country. Originally, we had planned on visiting Huaraz, a mountain town with spectacular views of the Cordillera Blanca - high, snow-capped peaks which are being melted away by global warming at an alarming rate (insert your bullshit political view here). Unfortunately there were protests and civil unrest about mining operations a few weeks before. The riots had calmed down a bit but threatened to start back up again. As interesting as that sounded to me, the last place I needed to take my family on vacation was to see a bunch of pissed off, rock-hurling youths from a bus that was caught in the middle of the commotion. So, we went for Plan B (you always have to have a Plan B in Peru – or anywhere for that matter). Plan B wasn't so bad. First to Arequipa and then to Puno/Lake Titicaca then back to Lima to celebrate Christmas.<br /><br />Arequipa – For some strange reason Mom and Sam weren't down for a 15 hour bus ride from Lima to Arequipa (even though it's a nice bus) so we flew. Flights are not that much more than the bus so it made sense on such a short time frame. Arequipa is a great city. Old colonial buildings build out of white volcanic rock called sillar, lots of history, and nice vistas of dormant and active volcanoes. There, we took a pretty touristy double-decker bus ride to check out the city and its surroundings. There, I rocked the shit out of some rocoto relleno (stuffed Peruvian chili peppers) and ate my first cuy chactado (fried guinea pig). Imagine eating your little childhood friend Sparkles, skinned, battered, fried and served in its entirety (head, eyeballs, teeth, claws and all) with a side of mixed vegetables. Tasted a little like rattlesnake, which tastes like gamey chicken, with just as many bones. Apparently cuyes are very high in protein, low in cholesterol (until deep fried) and reproduce like their rabbit cousins. </div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5848802882106690884.post-43177774638591214492010-12-13T08:43:00.000-08:002010-12-14T07:54:11.224-08:00School Daze<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550210390006941554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TQZO8YULx3I/AAAAAAAAAZg/HQ4P0kmo-GQ/s400/IMG_3572.JPG" /><br /><div align="center">Entrance to the school</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TQZO9bKh-nI/AAAAAAAAAZw/K5ruSSnn55s/s1600/IMG_3557.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550210407951628914" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TQZO9bKh-nI/AAAAAAAAAZw/K5ruSSnn55s/s400/IMG_3557.JPG" /></a> Kids during ag class (it's very hot by the way)<br /><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550210397782221410" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_F44MCvZOm6k/TQZO81R9ImI/AAAAAAAAAZo/0Wxdj2p6BO0/s400/IMG_3543.JPG" /> Kids in science class </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I've been doing a fair amount of work in the escuela secundaria (middle/high school) in my town. The school is called Institución Educativa José Abelardo Quiñones named after a Peruvian fighter pilot who, after he was shot down by an Ecuadorian artillery unit during the Ecuadorian-Peruvian War of 1941, kamakazeed his plane into the battery that shot him down. Peru actually won that war so he's kind of a national hero and is on the 10 Sol bill.<br /><br />The school has a couple of smallish two-story brick and concrete buildings with classrooms, an administrative office and a computer lab and another one-story building with classrooms and shop classes. There is a little concrete futbol/basketball court in the middle of the buildings. I was pretty excited when I saw the basketball court and was ready to play ball but the backboards are all jacked up. Too many kids dunkin'? Mmm… Probably not. (Confusing but amusing fact - the Spanish word Aula = Classroom. The word Jaula = Cage)<br /><br />Kids here go to secundaria between the ages of around 11 or 12 until they're 16 or 17. There are around 130 students in 5 grades. Class size ranges between 10 – 30 students. Staff includes one director (principal), an assistant, a janitor, seven teachers, an adult hall monitor (who is also the referee for the local cock fights), a part time PE teacher and an English teacher who barely speaks a lick of English. As in the US, teachers here are overworked, underpaid and underappreciated.<br /><br />The school year runs from April until December. They're off during the summer months of January through March because it's just too damn hot. Classes start at 8am and go until 1:30 with a recess/snack break at around 11:00. They study the typical HS courses like math and science and also take practical, more hands-on courses like agriculture, metal shop, and wood shop. A couple times a week the kids have physical education where they do exercises, run track, play futbol, volleyball, and basketball (even though the backboards are unusable). There is a school band but there are no organized sports teams. I haven't seen any dopey, cocky meatheads wearing their letter jackets terrorizing the guy carrying the clarinet case.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Graduation is just a couple of weeks away. Some of the 5th year kids are going to attend the Instituto (junior college) in town studying either tourism, mechanics, computers, nursing, or agriculture. Some of the brighter students will spend about a year studying for a university entrance exam and hopefully get accepted. Many have few options and will leave town to look for work in the fields or doing construction. Imagine leaving home at 16 years old to brave this sometimes very cruel world.<br /><br />So far working with these kids has been the highlight of my Peace Corps experience. They're bright, respectful, and appreciative and really a lot of fun to be around unlike their spoiled counterparts in a little place called America.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div></div>Win Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17128626880772802265noreply@blogger.com1