Backpack

To mix things up a bit in this week's entry (a misleading phrase considering my disregard for regular updates) I thought I'd try to create a picture of my daily life as revealed by my stalwart companion and close personal friend:

My backpack. I've grown quite attached to my backpack in the last few months. There are so many odds and ends that I don't feel comfortable without, and my backpack is always happy to soothe my insecurities by porting along generally unnecessary supplies. At the moment, it contains:

-A raincoat. The weather changes without warning here, and I've been caught in the rain too many times to leave home without my rain jacket. Particularly on those deceptive sunny days. Stupid sunny days, always trying to lull me into a false sense of security. The last week has been a solid, unbroken block of golden heat, which has me convinced that a rainy day is lurking, sneaking closer and closer...

-My trusty pink Spanish notebook. On our first day of orientation, we all received little notebooks from Pro Peru. Some people got blue notebooks with soccer players, some got black with ninjas, I got a pink one. With a cute little bunny. At first I was afraid that there had been a slight mistake, but Tavia, a volunteer coordinator was quick to reassure me-- it was quite intentional. That same notebook is now used in every Spanish lesson. My teachers find it endlessly amusing.

-Keys. For some reason, all of my keys for things back home made the trip to peru with me. I don't really know where to put them, so they live in my backpack.

-Toilet paper. One of the BIG cultural adjustments centers around toilet paper. TP doesn't live in the bathroom. Instead, one has to bring it with them. Thus, I like to have a roll with me at all times-- the possibility of making a mistake in this regard is too terrifying.

-My computer! My link to you, the beloved reader. I carry it around because Wifi here is a bit like a really great parking spot in the states-- it is never consistent or expected, but one must always be vigilant. The internet cafe I used to use now, oddly enough, no longer has wifi. The quality of their brownies still has me going there regularly. Try not to take that as an indication of your (the beloved reader's) importance to me relative to baked goods.

-My plug adapter. This beloved little fellow keeps me charged and typing, listening, skyping, and brushing (my teeth-- with the electric toothbrush which I brought all the way to Peru. Judge if you must, but never, NEVER question the state of my dental hygiene)

-My book. When applying to this program, I remember my interviewer asking me something along the lines of “How will you avoid entering a violent rage after the repeated frustration of extreme non-punctuality by Peruvians?” He may have phrased it a bit more delicately. The point, however, was that I came prepared to flex like the humble willow in the breezes of polychronic perceptions of time. As it turns out, most every Peruvian I've met has been extremely punctual, and I've spent more time waiting for gringos than I have for Peruvians. To that end, a book is a wonderful addition to my backpack. It also

A) makes me look terribly smart and impressive when people arrive, and

B) creates the impression that I have been waiting much longer than I actually have been, thereby reinforcing my reputation as a timely arriver. (A butchery of the English language? Mayhaps, but a conscious one)

I'm currently reading The Poisonwood Bible, which also gets me “cultured person” credit-- redeemable for valuable prizes and insight.

-Hand sanitizer. Miracle gel. When you can't wash-- sanitize! Before meals, before cooking, before flossing. I've consumed enough of the stuff that I'm coming to appreciate the subtleties of the bitter aftertaste it leave in the mouth. The low grade generics have a chemical sourness, but the good ones, GermX or Purell often have subtle floral undertones.

-Sunscreen. The elevation combines with the side effects of antibiotics (sensitivity to sun) to make Urubamba a giant broiler to for the unprepared. For this reason, I also always tote around my

-Beloved baseball cap. I actually have two, one from Bridge Year that I try to avoid destroying completely, and one lightening bolt cap that I found on the street in AK, and which is subject to a rough treatment. It gets sweated upon as I hike, saturated in DEET as I poison insects, and it is also the tool of choice for swatting spiders and ants off of things that ought not to have spiders and ants on them. Namely me. I honestly doubt that that poor hat will ever see the states again.

-Spare Hidden Toilet Paper. I think that my concern in this matter is valid. Can you really disagree?

-Water bottle. I don't actually drink a lot of water throughout the day; the tea that I get after each meal usually does the trick of keeping me hydrated. Instead, the water bottle lives in my backpack as a reminder to take it to the office to fill for my nighttime water needs. Those would be tooth brushing and pill swallowing. Clean water has truly become a logistical challenge. Some days I don't go to the office, and I have to plan ahead for those by filling up my spare bottle. Some days I'll have a hike and need another spare. It's all very complicated, and I pay dearly for my mistakes. That is, I pay one sole to buy bottled water-- one sole that could be spent on a churro, a bowl of arroz con leche, or two (2!!!!) tasty pastries. A sad, sad sacrifice.

This blog entry is written in memory of my pen, which until recently lived in my backpack and served nobly as a writing utensil. Pen fought valiantly against the altitude of the Inca trail, but lost spectacularly. My memories, like his stain, will last forever.