Week Three: Las Personas de Perú
It is mid July. In the next few days we are leaving for our ten-day expedition to Río Camanti. Dawson, Kyle, Maddie and I decide to eat lunch at the restaurant down the street with our good friend Larry. We use the peanut butter that Maddie and I brought from Cusco and a rare packet of jelly to make sandwiches. It is a relaxing afternoon.
Two girls from the school in Quincemil enter the restaurant and speak, between giggles, in fast paced Spanish. They are dressed in light blue and white and have been practicing for their independence day parade which will occur a couple of days after we leave for the expedition. Larry turns to Kyle,
“They want you to walk with them in their practice parade,” he says and with that, Kyle leaves the restaurant and walks toward the school. We squeeze through the crowded gate and watch as Kyle prepares to strut across the courtyard with a group of girls. Just then, two similar young girls run up to me.
“¡Venga! ¡Venga!” They encourage me to join them in their section of the parade, but in this moment of surprise, the only Spanish I can remember is, “No, no, no gracias.”
However, they somehow convince me to walk with them across the courtyard as everyone claps and loud music plays. I am embarrassed yet grateful. One of the girls finds me later and presents me with a large homemade cake.
It was encounters like this one and various others and taught me about hospitality. The Peruvians that I spent time with were welcoming and warm hearted people. They forgave my incorrect Spanish skills and my intrusion on their country.
Instead, they were happy to speak with me, slowly making sure that I could understand. They were eager to help me on our expeditions through the forest. They were willing to teach me the characteristics of plant families and the irregularities of a new Spanish verb.
The people of Peru made my trip a comforting and valuable experience. They helped me feel at home and enabled me to be open to learning and trying new things.
Two girls from the school in Quincemil enter the restaurant and speak, between giggles, in fast paced Spanish. They are dressed in light blue and white and have been practicing for their independence day parade which will occur a couple of days after we leave for the expedition. Larry turns to Kyle,
“They want you to walk with them in their practice parade,” he says and with that, Kyle leaves the restaurant and walks toward the school. We squeeze through the crowded gate and watch as Kyle prepares to strut across the courtyard with a group of girls. Just then, two similar young girls run up to me.
“¡Venga! ¡Venga!” They encourage me to join them in their section of the parade, but in this moment of surprise, the only Spanish I can remember is, “No, no, no gracias.”
However, they somehow convince me to walk with them across the courtyard as everyone claps and loud music plays. I am embarrassed yet grateful. One of the girls finds me later and presents me with a large homemade cake.
It was encounters like this one and various others and taught me about hospitality. The Peruvians that I spent time with were welcoming and warm hearted people. They forgave my incorrect Spanish skills and my intrusion on their country.
Instead, they were happy to speak with me, slowly making sure that I could understand. They were eager to help me on our expeditions through the forest. They were willing to teach me the characteristics of plant families and the irregularities of a new Spanish verb.
The people of Peru made my trip a comforting and valuable experience. They helped me feel at home and enabled me to be open to learning and trying new things.
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