Update

I have neglected my blog so much that now I find myself in a position of trying to provide an update of my life over these past 8 months that I have failed to communicate via my blog. Rather than try to give a play by play, which would be impossible considering the amount of things that have occured, let alone the range of emotions which I´ve experienced. I have thus decided to give some snippets, which I actually began writing long ago and never uploaded. This certainly won´t serve as a thorough update, but it will at least give you a glimpse of some really important moments in my life this year.

In the store where my dad communicated and won the
hearts of the owner and my dear friends Carmen and Charo
via pointing, nodding and smiling. 

December/January- "Rejuvinate my Spirit"

Enjoying "La Hora Loca" at the dance. 

Alright, I´ll admit it....I was a little bit nervous about my family´s visit here to Peru. It´s just that my family frankly isn´t quite as adventurous as I am. I wasn´t sure how they would handle the daily adventures of living here...riding in the trunk of the taxi, questionable electricity, freezing cold showers...when there´s water that is, etc. It´s not that my family has a super plush life back at home, but I worried that some of these little things would be challenging for my family. I was so wonderfully surprised to be proven wrong by them.              From the moment that my dad, mom, and sister arrived they threw themselves into this experience.

They were so willing to not just be observers but
active participants in everything, from my sister attending prom with a student of mine, to braving harrowing roads on the way to the highlands. My family doesn´t even speak Spanish, but yet they were willing to sit for 4+ hour long lunches with people they didn´t know, trying to engage in coversations. I was translating, but it´s amazing to see that when words sometimes just don´t quite suffice how the language of shared emotions, care, and love can be understood by all. 

By far one of my favorite photos of the trip. My mom
dancing and having fun with the one and only, Carmen Rosa.

Spending some quality time with my sister, staring out at the
incredible view from the ruins of Pisac.

The truly breath-taking view when you first arrive at
Machu Picchu. 

We spent three weeks packed with a lot of fun experiences, great conversations and of course delicious food. We spent about half the time here in Tacna and the other half traveling in Cusco. We did the typical tourist things, such as going to Machu Picchu and visiting many other ruins. The experience was unforgettable and absolutely beautiful. Without a doubt though, my favorite part of their visit was the time we spent here in Tacna. Intitially I thought the visit of my family was going to be more of a "choque" (collision) of two different worlds- that of my life in the States and my life here in Peru. In reality it was more of a meshing of these two worlds. It was undoubtedly bizarre to have, for example, my host mom and my real mom sitting side by side at the farm where I have spent nearly every single Sunday for this past year and a half. But it was beautiful. I think their visit helped them to understand better not only my experience, but also my reasons for coming here. The opportunity to meet my students, friends, family, neighbors, etc. gave them not just a glimpse but a chance to take part in my life here. They mentioned on several occasions that the visit gave them a sense of consolation because they realized how blessed I truly am to be surrounded by so many people that have taken me in. 

The meeting of my two families. 

After nearly three weeks here in Peru, when the time finally came for them to leave, I was confident that I wouldn´t cry. I knew it wouldn´t be like the tearful departure I had when I first left back in 2010. Yet, once again, I found myself standing there, waving to my family as they headed to the Lima airport, with tears streaming down my face. It was a much different emotion than before, however. I didn´t feel sad, because after all, I am happy here in Peru. I knew that I was going to be returning to Tacna to friends and family that care for me and love me. I was crying instead because of an overwhelming feeling of gratitude in my heart. I couldn´t then and still can´t quite put into words the absolute appreciation I felt for that experience of having my family here. They made so many sacrifices to be here with me, and it truly meant the world to me. It was such a memorable and special time. A former community mate of mine compared his family´s visit to that of looking in a mirror. At the time he made that comparison I didn´t understand, but after my family´s visit it became clearer what he meant. My parents and sister are the people that know the true me. In being with them I was therefore able to see a reflection of myself. I was able to see and understand better who I am and who I have become here. I saw myself not just as Ashlen the teacher or Ashlen the volunteer, but just Ashlen. Sometimes I play so many different roles here, I lose sight of who I am at the core. Being with my family helped me get back to that, to the basics, to the true me.

Celebrating New Years and my dad´s birthday at
Parque de los Aguas in Lima.

Happy New Year!!!!!

Very Indiana Jones-esque in Miculla. 

Trip to the beach in December...one of the many perks of
coming to South America during Christmas-time. 

Cheers to the meshing of traditions, customs, and families. 

January- "Month of Mission, Challenges and Confidence!"

The incredible sunset of Susapaya. 

I can say that I have now officially survived 2 "meses de misión"! We talk about it jokingly as a question of survival, but this year it wasn´t so much of a joke. We really did have to put our survival skills to use during our month-long stay in the highlands of Tacna in the small town of Susapaya. We learned to live with very few resources in the middle of nowhere. The trip didn´t start off well considering the fact that we didn´t actually make it there the first day. The combination of rain and steep/narrow dirt roads did not allow for the ideal trip. We got stuck in the mud about 45 minutes from our destination and had to deal with about 25 freezing cold, wet, hungry teenagers. This actually became the theme of our trip. The first week or so was a very wet one. It was ironic however that despite all of the water that was constantly rushing down, we actually had no running water. When the rains come in Susapaya their water source gets filled with rocks and mud and the townspeople are left to gather the rain water. So along with the townspeople of Susapaya we placed buckets all over the basketball court of the school where we were staying and gathered the rain water we then used for drinking, cleaning and showering. I was impressed by how well the students handled the less than ideal situation that we were in. 

We spent a lot of time with the cook that
shared not only her skills in the kitchen,
but also her insights and experiences with us.

Some of the delicious local food.

About a week later, things started to look up. The rains slowed, we got running water again, we found a cook, and we began to work more consistently. We spent most of the month doing work similar to that of last year´s Mes de Misión- clearing paths that lead to the farms. It wasn´t exactly the most exciting of jobs, but I´d say it was certainly character-building. As we would go up and down the trails we would meet locals that would sometimes converse briefly with the kids or simply pass by with a friendly smile or a wave. These people go up and down these trails on a daily basis, make a living off the land, and deal with the lack of resources in Susapaya for their whole lives and not just a month. I think these interactions helped to give the students a new perspective. Also, with a big assist by "Team English", we offered English classes to the locals. At first I was very hesitant. I wondered if the locals, many of which spoke minimal Spanish, but instead their native Aymara language, would want classes. I was mistaken. People walked up to an hour in the rain just to attend our classes. Although I don´t feel teaching in a classroom is my vocation, I do love teaching in small groups and especially with adults. Their desire to learn the language was inspiring and motivating. They were so eager to learn and so incredibly appreciative...sentiments not often found in the high school English classes. It was, as always, not just an experience of teaching for me but of learning as well. It became an exchange of language, customs, ideas, and of laughter as well.

The whole crew of 9th graders. 

Another challenge this year was the fact that we were so isolated in Susapaya. We became painfully aware of this fact when another chaperone and I tried to return to Tacna to get more supplies. We realized that it wasn´t so easy as simply catching a bus or a car. The bus that we thought was going down that day was in fact not and we had to look into other options. We tried catching a ride with the one car that entered town, but our seat in the back was eventually taken by an alpaca, three goats, and two sheep. Thanks a lot animals. The next suggestion made to us was to walk 2 hours to try to catch a bus that may or may not come, or walk 5 hours to the town where we could surely find a collective-taxi back to Tacna. Neither were especially tempting options. When we asked some locals what happens when there is a medical emergency for example, they shrugged and said that if there is a situation that can´t be treated at the local medical post, the injured or sick person "simply" dies because there all too often isn´t a way down off the mountain. This was both a shocking and scary thought, especially being in charge of so many students. At last, we were able to find a way down- by motorcycle. Two men offered to take us down, and thus we embarked on a truly adventurous journey back to Tacna. We weaved our way down off the mountain, swerving to miss herds of sheep and the occasional donkey. The views were incredible of the mountains and the deep ravine far too close for comfort. Several hours later we made it to a town where there were cars back to Tacna. This experience left me with a new appreciation for the simple luxury of being able to get from here to there when I want or need to. 

The locals doing a traditional dance in the plaza

Participating with my group in the talent show. 

This being my second year, I felt like I was in a much better place and much more able to handle the sort of extreme and challenging conditions that we were facing. I was constantly amazed by the grace with which my new community-mates  dealt with the situation. Apart from the weather and lack of material resources, it is challenging enough living with and taking care of some 25 fifteen year-old students. It is a lot of responsibility and essentially a 24/7 job. There were certainly moments of frustration, struggles, etc. with the kids, but overall the experience is rewarding in that it offers us the opportunity to get to know our students on a completely different level in a unique environment. Everyone (including the teachers) is put in a vulnerable position in which we must learn to not only work together but rely on one another as well. We become one united Miguel Pro community, but also to a certain extent with the broader community as well. The experience becomes one of mutual learning and sharing. I know that many of the students and certainly the volunteers left Susapaya with the "huellas" or footprints that cannot be erased from our hearts.

The traditional cloth that is used for
carrying everything from crops to babies.

May- "I´m Still Arriving..."

So here I am at 18 months into my two year volunteer experience. It´s sort of a strange place to be. For basically my entire first year I was considered one of the "new ones", but when the "new ones" arrived last November my role here suddenly switched. It wasn´t like oh now I´m the second year, but rather now I am on my way out. Oddly enough then, it feels like I was just beginning and now I´m leaving. I don´t think a single day goes by in which somebody doesn´t make a comment about my leaving this year. One student in particular always looks at me, shakes his head and says something to the effect of "Miss, you´re leaving so soon". When was I just here, I wonder?!

I recently read a poem by Thich Nhat Hanh called "Please Call by My True Names" and I found the opening lines to be especially pertinent to how I´m feeling.

Please Call Me by My True Names

Don't say that I will depart tomorrow --
even today I am still arriving.
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his "debt of blood" to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.


With all this talk of this being my last year it is indeed a bit difficult to feel completely present. I feel the tug of home a little bit. I start thinking about going home and in many ways I feel excited. I know it´s still a long ways away, but when I think about being with my family again, reconnecting with friends, and maybe starting grad school I am filled with a sense of excitement.

Nevertheless, I am here, and I need to try my hardest to just be present. I cannot even begin to imagine what it will be like to leave here, but then again that is still far into the future. So what does my "present" look like? Where am I right now?

I am just about three months into my second year as a teacher, and the experience is entirely different this year. I feel so much more confident in myself. I don´t feel as afraid to be in front of a room of 35 teenagers trying to teach them without having any experience. I know one year certainly does not make me an expert, I still get butterflies sometimes when I´m not as prepared as I should be, or I stay late at school staring at my lesson planning book for hours not really knowing where to go or what to do. I make mistakes all the time, but I feel better. I feel like I can handle myself better in the classroom, and I love how my interactions with my students and colleagues sometimes (certainly not always) feels easier and with a new depth thanks to a year of getting to know them.

I cannot shake however, a feeling of not being entirely content in my position as a teacher. I expressed in an earlier post that I didn´t feel that teaching was my vocation, and I continue with a sort of internal struggle along those lines. I wonder how it is that I can continue with a fire and passion for something that I don´t feel is really "my thing". I    don´t go to school with a feeling that this is what I´m meant to do. So it becomes difficult that something that doesn´t really light that fire within me is so consuming of both my time and energy. I think, if it exists, I need to find a job where I can take more of a break. I spend the majority of my day at school teaching and doing activities there, then I stay and lesson plan and grade, I sometimes work at home, I go to bed thinking about school, I dream about my classes or my students or even wake up with an idea for a lesson, I listen to music and I try to figure out what grammatical structure it has and how I could maybe use it in a lesson. I think it´s especially difficult because the Miguel Pro volunteers also don´t have much of a physical break from the school. We live two blocks from school. 3 of the 5 of us volunteers work at Miguel Pro. Our next door neighbors are our students. I walk to buy bread in my pajamas and I´m guaranteed to bump into at least 2 or 3 students on the way. Or I go the internet cafe to try to catch up with a friend on skype and the person on each side of me is a student and sure enough another one of my little kids is bound to crawl up into my lap just to see what I´m up to. Don´t get me wrong, there are many wonderful aspects of living an arms-length away from my students (chance to get to know them and their families better, interact with them outside of class, etc.), but sometimes both an emotional and physical break is really necessary.

The highly anticipated camping trip finally came to fruition.

I knew though, coming into this that teaching wasn´t necessarily going to be my forté, but I signed up as a volunteer, with an openness to do something that fulfilled a need for my host site. Obviously my hope is to eventually find something that Theologian Frederich Buechner calls "the place where our greatest passion meets the world´s greatest needs", but for now I guess I have to try to embrace this position, do the best I can, and try to find the joy in what I do.

One thing I do love are the one-on-one moments. I have to cherish those opportunities that I have to talk with students and interact with them outside of the classroom, because those are the moments I really do love. Whether it´s helping one of my more difficult students sweep the classroom to try to reach out to him, or playing a terribly bastardized version of football on the patio, or stopping to talk to my students in the streets...these are the things I love about teaching. The teaching part may not be my favorite, but I do love the kids very much and I sincerely hope they can feel that.

July- "Everyone has a story"

Just the other day I was reminded yet again that "Él tiene una historia." That is to say that "he has a story or a history". I know that doesn´t sound like a particularly earth-shattering revelation, but in fact in my role as a teacher it has been something that I have needed to remind myself of...to be sensitive of...and it´s also something that I have tried to seek to understand. Each students "historia" is unique, but too many include some similar themes- a single-parent family, domestic violence, a lack of supervision at home, drugs and alcohol usage in the house, economic woes, etc., etc. To be honest I sometimes feel overwhelmed by all of these "historias" and I don´t always know how best to handle the situation. I sometimes have parents asking me for advice on how to parent or I find myself in a position trying to talk to a parent about how beating his child isn´t necessarily the best way to discipline. I have so often felt inadequate and unqualified to deal with many of these situations. Most recently I have found myself physically, emotionally and mentally occupied by the situation of a particular student that ran away from home. I felt drained by the experience and utterly impotent in the situation. There was only so much I, as his tutora and teacher could do. I found myself asking questions and doubting myself and my ability to accompany these students. I was worried, sad, and at the same time mad at the student. I experienced in just one week such a range of emotions. I´ve thought about the possibility of going into social work, but I´m wondering if I would be able to separate myself enough from the job. I´ve been told by many people that as a social worker you have to learn to not carry your clients problems with you, to not take them on so much. I wonder if I could do that.

I had hoped that by the end of this experience maybe I would have a better idea of what I would like to do in the future. I´m over 20 months in and I still don´t have much clarification on that matter. One thing that I have discovered however, is that although I may feel overwhelmed at times by the situations of the kids and I certainly don´t (if ever) have the right words to say, but I do like listening to them. I´m genuinely interested in their lives and I want them to know that I truly care about them. I like discovering their "historias", interacting with them (especially outside of the classroom) and accompanying them the best I can. I certainly don´t do that perfectly, but sometimes I just have to be ok with doing the best I can.

I could spend some more time researching graduate schools or looking into other possibilities to pursue, but frankly I just want to be here. I want to be present here and not be focused so much on the future. I have just a few short months here and I want to try to continue to go deeper into this experience and to "profundizar" my relationships. Lately I have been feeling so much more at home and happy. It´s not to say that recently I was unhappy, but I have certainly felt at times that I could be even happier. I am absolutely ready for a vacation, which luckily we have coming up in 2 weeks, but overall I am feeling settled and at home here. At school things definitely aren´t perfect. I still have days where everything goes all wrong and I feel frustrated and lost. Those days however, are few and far between, especially in comparison with last year. I´m practically drowning in papers I need to grade, but I don´t feel as stressed by that. Lately I´ve simply stopped doing work at home, or spending as much time grading. I´m spending more time with my students and less time planning or grading and I´m happier. Plus when I have those down days I feel like there are always moments and people that are there to turn it around. For example, I was not looking forward to my last class of the day on Friday...never a favorite of mine, and as I was preparing the board three of my students that had been hiding jumped out to scare me. Instead of being mad or continuing to dread that class they made me smile and laugh, and I think that was the best class I´ve had with them for awhile. Sometimes those moments of laughter and consolation come to us at a time and in a way that we least expect.

I hope though that I´ve let the Peruvians into my life to get to know me more and to "conocer mi historia" in the ways in which they´ve allowed me to do that as well. I hope that in these remaining months I can strive to be vulnerable, to be open so that we may become closer in the sharing of stories.

Speaking of stories and history, as I mentioned before, dance plays a fascinating role in the culture here. It serves as entertainment of course, but more than that it is also a way to preserve the culture and its history. Many dances tell stories about the arrival of the Spanish, or about the period of terrorism, etc., etc. Recently I started taking Afro-Peruvian dance classes. The history of the dance is fascinating. My teacher, a very vivacious and eccentric woman with a passion for dance, was talking about how it´s a dance with so many elements- there is joy and celebration, but also pain and suffering with certain moves that represent their enslavement. I started this dance mostly as a way of relieving stress (with the rhythm of that music and all the movin and shakin...in ways I formally thought I could not move, it would be difficult to not let go of that stress), but I´ve really come to enjoy it. I´m also really interested in this element of the history of the dance and am going to do some more research on the subject. Until then, please enjoy a photo of my first dance performance.  

Showing off my Afro-Peruvian dance costume.