My Name Is Nicky But You Can Call Me Dre

It’s still hard to believe that only one week has passed since I was nervously waiting with 57 other volunteers for our host families to arrive at the Peace Corps training center in Chaclacayo. I was so nervous that every Spanish word I knew seemed to leave my brain and when my host mom introduced herself I didn’t even remember to tell her my name! I don’t think my nerves will ever quit as most things seem to give me a certain level of anxiety but I can definitely feel myself getting more and more comfortable in the language, customs and happenings of Perú. Poco a poco as they say!

I live with mi familia anfitriona (host family) in their small community named after the day it was founded, Tres de Octubre (luuuckily, we’ll get to help them celebrate the anniversary this year!). There are six volunteers total who live in Tres and one of them, a health volunteer named Nathan, actually lives in the same house as me.  Our household is made up of Nathan’s host mom, her three sons and their families. My host dad is her oldest son, Carlos. My family is made up of Carlos, his wife Rebeca and their daughters Yerlin (17) and Gianella (12). Nathan’s host mom is my grandma which, I guess, makes him one of my uncles, hahaha. Another volunteer, Kristen, lives around the corner with Rebeca’s aunt so she and I could also be considered cousins. Living in such a small community where everyone knows each other and where all of our families have hosted volunteers for years makes it that much easier to transition into this crazy life-changing journey.

My host family is absolutely adorable. They are SUPER patient with my Spanish and take the time to explain words I can’t pick up or don’t understand. by now they have figured out when I actually understand what they’re saying and when I pretend to understand by nodding my head and saying, “Sí, sí.” Carlos loves to help me with my Spanish homework and teach me about Peruvian culture. Rebeca and I chat every night about what I learned that day and she tells me stories, like every mom, as reminders that I need to be careful when I’m taking the combi (a CRAZY, privately owned van/bus system that we take to get to the training center each morning) or walking home at night or going for a run in the morning. Yerlin and Gianella treat me like their 5-year old sister, which actually doesn’t bother me. Apparently I’m not as aware as I should be when crossing the street and they find it safest to hold my hand and guide me. Yesterday the three of us went to a town called Chosica because Gianella had a doctor’s appointment. It’s about a 15-minute ride in the combi and after the appointment they bought me a popsicle (it was so cute!) and we walked around the market area.

So far, it seems all the volunteers are having pretty great experiences with their host families. One of the best things about my host family is that they remind me of my actually family back home and I’ve heard from other volunteers that the feel the same way. Sometimes that makes me more homesick but I’d rather have more good reminders of home than none at all; however, I’m finding it hard to even find time to be homesick. Allow me to describe a typical week day for a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee):

-Wake up at 6:30am

-Take a freezing cold shower (if you´re a morning shower person)

-Eat an enormous breakfast (Thursday I was lucky enough to have a small slice of flan with mine)

-Meet up with your neighbs and walk to the combi stop

-Squeeze into a combi which looks like it never has enough room but somehow everyone manages to fit and grab onto a railing real quick cuz once everyone’s  in the door, the driver is always ready to go (One time I was the last one of our group on the combi and I wasn’t even all the way in the door when it started moving but there’s also someone who collects the money and opens/closes the door to shuffle people on and off. He must have been holding on to that door pretty good because he wasn’t standing on the platform with me)

-Spanish class for 4 hours

-Lunch (all the host moms pack Tupperware lunches for the volunteers and we all eat together outside and check out who has what)

-Either program-specific classes, safety and security or other training survival classes

-The 30-minute walk home always turns into a 45-minute or hour walk home because we like to stop at the super mercado or just take our sweet time

-Snacking with my fam cuz they feed me so much for lunch and breakfast that I´m never really hungry for dinner

-Spanish homework with my host papa

-Freezing cold shower

-In bed reading Rachel Dratch´s Girl Walks Into a Bar or Mindy Kaling´s Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (I´m very into the comedy memoirs right now) by 9:45pm

I´ll end this post by explaining it´s title. Being named Jamie Perez my whole life, I don´t know how many times I´ve had teachers assume I was a hispanic boy and decide to call me Jaime (hi-may) Perez when going through roll at the beginning of class. Here, people know the difference between Jaime and Jamie so I haven´t encountered too many issues with the pronunciation of my name. Unfortunately, there are a decent amount of other volunteers with pretty difficult names to pronounce and I´ve had a good time observing people introduce themselves to the locals. Last night there was a fiesta for the Virgen de Cocharcas (I think...) and a lot of the volunteers came  to our hood to fiesta with us. I had the pleasure of overhearing a volunteer named Seth go back and forth for with a local manquite some time trying to get the pronunciation of his name just right. A lot of people have accepted their new names and I´m pretty happy with being called ´Yaymee´ for the next two years.

So for not having any pictures to post yet! You dedicated followers of mine shall be my motivation for keeping my camera charged and at the ready. Hasta la proxima!!