As of today, I’ve been home for exactly 20 days. And though that’s almost three weeks, I still have a whirlwind of feelings about being back in the States, much less the city. Though I try not to do it, I find myself subconsciously comparing San Francisco to Cusco at least eleventy one times a day (quick! name the reference!). And if my mind isn’t comparing, then it makes sure that one small thing will trigger a memory of Perú, and I go through a withdrawal again.
Now if you asked me before I embarked on my trip if I thought a mere two months could impact me so strongly, I may have said yes, but not with the degree of emphasis I feel I need to say it with now. Remembering my experience from Scotland the summer before, I went to Perú still fresh with wanderlust. I went with the expectation that I would be able to return and spout off facts about Peruvian history, and have the bragging rights of saying I had hiked Machu Picchu. I expected to return with great stories about the kids that I worked with, and hopefully motivation for pursuing a career in child psych. What I didn’t expect is to have my whole world outlook changed and enhanced, to develop new interests, to become so attached to a city or the people I lived with, or to return with such a hunger to learn more, to travel more, to meet more people, and to just soak up so much more of EVERYTHING.
But it did happen, and I can’t thank everyone enough for it. Of course to my parents, who didn’t stop me from taking this trip. I think we all realize that I sprung this idea on my parents at possibly the worst time, in probably the worst manner, but somehow, I was able to convince them to let me go. And if it weren’t for their reassuring voices over the phone, I probably would’ve just jumped on a flight home from Lima after missing that flight, never making it to Cusco, and never getting the chance to experience what I did.
I have to thank my kids at Madre Teresa de Calcutta center, for being my vivid inspiration to create change (however little) and my constant reminder that the world is bigger than this goldfish bowl of San Francisco, or even the United States.
And my Momma Yoco and Papa Marco, for being two of the most caring people in the world and the absolute best host parents I could have asked for. They opened up their doors to me, to their home, to their life, and into their family. For granting all of our meal requests, driving us around the city, and helping us with our Spanish, I’m forever grateful. Of course, I don’t think the fact that they had accepted us as their own kids, or their own family, actually hit me until they brought us to the cemetery on Día de los muertos, and trusted us enough to show us the altar of Marco’s sister, to tell us all about her and her death, and essentially, granting us access to their past.
Of course there’s also Jorge, whom I fully attribute my improvement in Spanish to. He was an absolutely amazing (and amusing) Spanish teacher. Spanish never flowed out of my mouth as easily as it did during our gossip sessions together. Now, I find myself mixing together Spanish with English, or other languages for that matter haha, and wanting to watch those crazy novellas on channel 14. Beyond that, I’d love nothing more than to major in romance languages in addition to psych once I finally end up at NYU, so long as my admin allows it.
Now I can’t forget my dedicated readers as well. Thank you so much for always visiting my blog, always encouraging me to keep it going. If it weren’t for you all reading and leaving me day-making comments, I most likely would’ve let this blog go. But because I always knew there were people waiting for an update, I continued, and now have all of my memories written down. It’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t already come back to my blog once or twice and read a couple of entries for the sake of reminiscing.
Finally, I have to attribute my absolutely unforgettable two months to some of the best friends I have ever come across. Going into my trip, I imagined my living arrangements as something similar to what my friends would be experiencing in college with their dorm mates. And yet I was lucky enough that there was such a large group of us moving in at the same time that we bonded instantly. I’ve had friends ask me many times if I knew any of the volunteers beforehand, if they were friends who I had decided to take this trip with. When I respond no, they’re always shocked, saying that judging from the pictures and my stories, you never would’ve known. And yet I understand what they mean, as we had many new volunteers move into our house and come off as standoffish, which we only later realized was because it seemed so intimidating to try and work their way into our tight knit group. And as I left, it was nothing like leaving your dorm mates behind, but more similar to leaving behind your childhood friends, ones who you had grown up with.
But I suppose that’s because I did grow up during my stay with them. Now I’m not trying to say that I consider myself a grown up by any means; Mom and Dad both know that I still procrastinate, leave my things around the house, and need to be nagged once or twice to go do the laundry. But I do feel that I’ve grown up a bit in the way that I’m more anxious to move forward with my life, such as going onto uni, wanting to live on my own (though I do love being at home), and to ultimately be, as my dad always puts it, a contributing member of society.
So to anyone considering a gap year or taking time to travel for a bit, please do it. I’m not saying that it’s right for everyone, but I do believe that if you can formulate a good plan of action, it can be an amazing experience. There’s only so much time in life, so why put off exploring the world on your own terms while the time is still there? And contrary to the belief that when people take gap years, they don’t return to uni, I’m more excited than ever before to start my studies. So to anyone considering a gap year to either find themselves, explore the world, make a difference, or for whatever other personal reasons, I say do your research and do it.
And to anyone who wants to visit Perú, you won’t regret it. It is such a beautiful country, and it deserves to be seen. Yes, there’s the obvious reason: Machu Picchu. It’s one of the wonders of the world, and certainly an amazing sight to see. But even if you can’t make it out there, I still encourage you to visit Perú to experience their culture and enrich your own life. Tourism is one of Perú’s top two businesses, so go ahead and support their economy, which very much needs it.
Though I haven’t visited every city in Perú (actually, I’ve only been to Cusco, Lima, and Arequipa), I’d say Cusco has to be the first place on everyone’s list. You can never truly place your finger on it, but there’s something about the atmosphere there that is such a contrast to that of the city (which so many of us live in). There’s so much to see and do, and I’m sad I wasn’t able to check all of those things off. I cannot wait for my next visit back, which I certainly hope is sooner than later. Everyone knows it has a special place in my heart, and is one of the places I truly love.
In an effort to keep from rambling, here’s a goodbye for now. Thank you for your support, reading my blogs, and keeping me in your thoughts.
Until the next chapter of my journey, ciao*. =)
xxoo
P.S. If anyone ever does decide to visit Perú, let me know and I’ll give you restaurants to eat at, places to visit, what tours to skip, where to stay, etc.
* They say “Ciao” in Cusco, not “adios”. =)
Some pictures to end on:
One of my last days in Cusco, in front of the waterfall on Avenida El Sol.
With Mama Yoco and Papa Marco at the cemetery.
Saying goodbye to Mama Yoco.
Liz, Jake, and I before heading off to the airport.
The splitting of the threesome.
Back in the city, and out to Indian food with Auntie May.
Happy Thanksgiving!
