Pizza face no more

Fun Fact No. 2a: Aguajes everywhere! A palm fruit only found in and around Iquitos, the famous aguaje, is small and covered in little tiny brown scales. You kind of rip the scales off with your teeth and then spit them out. There´s a fine layer of bright orange flesh around a big pit. It has a really distinct flavor that you either love or hate. And the pits are everywhere; I was hit by one on my motorcycle today.

When I got back to Austin in August, my skin broke out. Almost 30 and pizza face. Genevieve and I have the same problem, and we’re not sure why. It’s a crazy phenomenon. I’ve been in Peru for a mere three days and my skin is better than ever. Humidity? Sun? Motorcycle pollution? Who knows? But my zits have disappeared and my skin looks fantastic. And my hair isn’t doing too badly either! Maybe it’s the water. Hmmm…

My motorcycle is in the shop (working on finding that third gear) and I’ve been at Monica’s where it’s quiet and breezy, working on my chapter. Since my motorcycle isn’t up to par, I figured I should get some real work done anyway.

I went for my second run in Peru today. I went to the stadium where they have a track and I did my speed workout. It sucked. Let me just tell you, ick! The sun comes up so damn early here, and even though I was on the track at 6am, I was already roasticating. Stupid equator! Just kidding! I think this will definitely help me for the marathon.

Life in Iquitos is so far rather uneventful. And that’s the way we like it!

December 18

Well, it was tough. Seeing Victor’s family. His younger sister, Patricia, and his mom, Tania, are still just destroyed. When I saw Tania, she was silently crying as she sewed a dress for a neighbor. They spent all their savings on the funeral and now she has to work three times as much: giving pedagogy lectures at various conferences, teaching primary school, and sewing. Patri is only 15 and she took a part time job that she rushes off to after school. Victor’s 19^th birthday would have been this coming Saturday, so we’re having a picnic lunch at the cemetery. A strange thing to do, but it’s kind of celebratory. He loved ceviche, but it’s a bit pricy to pull off, so we’re doing a bbq instead. It should be interesting. Anyway, I talked to Patri and she said he left no note, he didn’t seem depressed, worried, anxious or anything. I have a friend who is a computer nerd, so we’re going to see if we can get him to hack Victor’s email to see if there might be some indication there. It’s just so senseless. And his mom is just a wreck. She isn’t your typical Amazonian mom. Most get pregnant really early and are young and kind of hands-off. This woman had her kids at 40 and 43 and is a respected pedagogue in the region. She’s really fantastic.

Victor had my motorcycle and it’s not in too bad a shape. It doesn’t seem to have third gear (boo hiss), but who needs third gear, right? Just kidding, I’m getting it fixed tomorrow. I forgot about the sun; I got a bit burned today, but then I went straight home for the waterproof, super expensive Burt’s Bees sunscreen I brought with me. I’m good and lathered up now.

Last night I had dinner with my dear friend Monica. She heads back to Spain for a few months on Thursday and it’s killing me! Every once and a while you meet someone with whom you have instant chemistry and it’s as if you’ve known each other for years. Monica is one of those people and how I missed her! We could have easily chatted way into the wee hours of the morning, but I had to run, so off to bed at 11pm.

Speaking of bed, look who visited me last night:

So disgusting. I’m not normally afraid of bugs, but you could HEAR this spider walking around. You’re not supposed to hear spiders. Ick.

I went for my first run in Peru this morning. From my house to the stadium, three times around the stadium, and back. About 4.5 miles. Man alive that cement does a number on my joints! Luckily tomorrow is a speed work out and it only costs about twenty cents to enter the stadium and use the fancy, squishy track.

Today’s meals:

Breakfast: papaya & strawberry smoothie. Not enough; I was famished until lunch.

Lunch: ceviche!!!!!!!!

Dinner: a fried egg and bread.

Teenage Suicide

Fun Fact No. 1a: Gut while you wait. Depending on how you're planning to cook your fish or turtle or caiman or whatever, they'll clean it and gut it. If you're making stew, it's cleaned one way. If you're frying it, it's cleaned another way. Etc.

Well, folks, I got into Iquitos last night at 10pm. I was supposed to get in at 7:25pm, but there was some crazy thunderstorm that dropped 12 inches/hour and so the flight was a bit delayed. I hung out with/took care of a little old lady named Laura who has Alzheimer's, most likely early stages. It was a bit weird but she was sweet so it didn't matter. I can't believe someone let her fly by herself - not only is she just OLD and can't walk very well, but we kind of adopted each other. Here's a brief transcription (and translation) of our nearly three hour conversation:

L: Hello, miss. What's your name?

K: My name is Kathryn, Laura.

L: Where are you from? I live on Jose Calvo Street, near Moore Avenue. I'm kind of forgetful (olvidona).

K: I'm from the US. And I live in Morona Cocha when I'm in Iquitos.

L: Morona? That is a lovely lagoon. What's your name?

K: My name is Kathryn.

L: Where are you from? I live on Jose Calvo Street, near Moore. I'm kind of forgetful.

And so forth. It made me a little sad for her, and it was tough to stay patient. But she was very sweet, and would occasionally offer or ask for other kinds of information. Like sometimes she sells papayas in the market in Iquitos. And that her husband died a few years ago and she likes being a single gal again. And that her son was going to pick her up from the airport. And pick her up he did, although he looked about her same age.

And so I got in, grabbed a mototaxi to my family's house in Morona, and surprised Mario Sr., the dad of the family. He had no idea I was coming, and we had a great time just chatting and hugging. We have a really great relationship, and it was great to just be with him with nobody else around. Eventually Mario Jr. and his girlfriend Veronica came in to say hi, but by then I was beat and hit the sack.

Today I went to market with Veronica Meder, Mario's younger sister, and her boyfriend Jean Carlos. I forgot about the hustle and bustle of this market, and I often wonder: how is it that with approximately 1,000 stands selling the same fish / vegetables / toothbrushes / alligator or whatever that people can end up feeding their families? And how is it that the competition works? I'm learning quite a bit about capitalism as a new idea / ideology / practice here in Iquitos, but some days it hits me more than others. These people wouldn't stand a chance in Austin. It's pretty amazing. I had ponche, egg whites whipped with vanilla and a little cream and topped off with boiling masaato, fermented yuca beer. It's so SO filling (and rather sinful) but delicious.

And now to the slightly depressing observation of the day: death is everywhere and no one's sensitive to it. I think it's cultural, probably because they're so darned used to it, but I still can't get used to it. Everyone knows that I left my motorcycle with my friend Victor who killed himself in October. And this is their response / interaction / commentary to me:

a. Dude, I heard that guy you gave your moto to offed himself. I think he was gay.
b. So did you ever find out why Victor killed himself? Did he leave a note?
c. Did you know that Victor hung himself? Weird, huh.
d. People are always killing themselves these days. So what are you going to do with the moto?

Just not exactly what I would say (or have ever said) about someone's recently deceased friend. Tact and sensitivity are of the utmost importance in the US about these things, and these are not things you just say. But I guess in some ways it's OK; death is normal, a part of life, and it happens all the time. Suicides are far too common and no one can be in the head of the person who's committed suicide, so who are we to judge? I'm definitely thinking too much because I'm reading Murakami, and he definitely messes with your head. Regardless, it's kind of scary to figure out how I should react to these comments. So strange. And I haven't been able to track down Victor's mom and sister yet, so it makes it even more strange.

Other than that bit of weirdness, I still feel good about being here. I feel refreshed and ready to conquer my challenges. I go for my first run in Peru tomorrow, and I'm excited about it. I see Monica tonight (can't WAIT!) and I saw Cesar and Graciela yesterday in Lima. I had fun with Lissette's family and now I'll have fun with my Iquitos family. I'll upload some pictures soon! In the meantime, see you soon.

Oh, and I'll end every post with a food journal so you can see what I eat!
Today:
breakfast - fried chicken, bread, watered down coffee out of the can
lunch - majas soup (jungle rat); duck and yellow rice (usually at lunch there is entrada, or the first course, and then segunda, the main course)
dinner - hasn't happened yet, but I'll order ravioli from the pizza joint Monica and I are going to tonight.

Milky Way & iPods

Well folks, I made it. After a rather short trip (it felt like anyway!), I am here in sunny Lima, Peru where summer is just getting started. It has been a wonderful trip so far, and I have been here for less than 24 hours! Here´s the lo-down:

I was horribly anxious the past few days, getting ready for the trip and nervous about being in Peru again. This past year held so SO many ups and downs that I really had a hard time reconciling a return trip so soon after I left. But there are some things I need to take care of regarding research, dissertation, friends, motorcycles, and life. I am still a little nervous about actually getting to Iquitos, mostly because the reality of Victor´s death will most likely hit hard, and that is kind of scary. Anyway, thanks to dear, dear friends (Karla, K.C., Genevieve, April!), I got everything packed, organized and out the door.

But I haven´t even begun at the beginning! Yesterday morning I woke up at 5:30am not to catch a plane, but to run 14 miles. I ran the first four with Karla and April, the next three with just April, and the last seven with the light drizzle that actually made for a delightful run. You would think running 14 miles and then getting on a few airplanes for 8 hours wouldn´t be a great idea, but actually it was JUST what the doctor ordered. The run was wonderful, then I made French toast with April, baked some pound cake, and headed off to the airport. My check-in went relatively smoothly (although I had to leave behind Christmas Crackers and some sidewalk chalk to lighten the load), and off to Houston.

In Houston I had a delicious sundried tomato pesto pasta salad (note: back in the day, airports only offered nasty Chinese or greasy fried chicken. This is truly and improvement) and then off to Lima. The flight was great: I read an entire book, watched the movie Hairspray, and caught up with the latest Harper´s.

I got to Lima early (at about 11:15pm) where my friend Lissette´s parents were waiting for me. We cruised home, shot the bull, and went to bed. I slept for nine hours without waking up, dreams, nightmares, having to pee, NOTHIN´! I slept better than I´ve slept for some time.

Today I woke up, had fresh-squeezed papaya juice and hung out with Wilder & Wilder, Lissette´s dad and brother. We went to eat lunch at a delicious seafood joint where I ate (surprise surprise) ceviche! Yum. Then I called a few friends and later this afternoon I´m having coffee with my friend (and potential dissertation committee member), Raul.


A few observations about this trip so far:
1. At the Houston airport, there were Apple snack machines. Seriously. Swipe your credit card, punch in the right number, the coil moves, an iPod drops down. I stood in front of the machine for about 15 minutes, partially in awe, partially in disgust. I couldn´t figure out what I should feel; right next to it was a real snack machine with Milky Way & Reeses.

2. Arriving here, it felt like I never left. Really! I felt comfortable and good, and that was a relief. I know now that this is meant to be- I´m meant to be in Peru so soon after I left. Also, I feel confident about myself, my non-Peruvianness, and my Peruvianness. I grew and changed quite a bit when I was here, and it was a hard road. But now I want to own it; I don´t want Peru to get the best of me. I want to give of myself only on MY terms and I feel good about that. I am happy, comfortable, and confident.

3. I feel like this whole task (dissertating, researching, travelling, running, visiting) is just less daunting. I feel less overwhelmed than I did even yesterday morning. I really feel like I can do it all, do it all well, and be proud of what I will have accomplished.

4. I almost cried on the way over because of something weird and kind of lame: I love running. I am convinced that I had such an uneventful, comfortable trip because I had a nice, long run before I got on the plane. I am so, SO privileged to have found such an embracing, engaging sport and to be able to call myself a runner! Michael once said that we are endurance athletes. I totally laughed him off saying that I´m just a slow runner. Now I get it! Hooray and thanks be to God for Running and Good Friends!

I´ll keep you posted as the days wear on. Wish me well!

"May-waj ees wat bwings us togethawww too dei"

Yes, that's a Princess Bride quote. And no, I'm not getting married. And yes, I still have this issue that comes with a United Statesish marriage that I can't reconcile: the last name. I wish I could just get over it, let people do their thing, respect it and move on. But no! I continue to flinch, cringe, and generally pull out my hair (!) at the prospect of the consideration of a name change. Women changing their names back in the day happened because they were effectively sold (or bribed) into marriage; they became their husband's property and had to adopt the symbol of his identity. In Quebec, it's illegal for people to change their names when they marry in order to support gender equality. In most of Latin America and parts of Europe, no one changes their names when they get married, and their kids get one last name from each parent (and official forms allow for that). These days you can pick which last name to pass on and its order (which one comes first). In California, a man sued the state for gender discrimination because the process for him to change his last name to his wife's was so complicated and difficult. He won. But there are only seven states where both partners can legally change their last names when they marry without financial repercussions.

If I ever get married, I will be considered an "mature" bride: I'll be well into my thirties (or beyond), and I will have spent a good chunk of my life as Kathryn Metz. Change my name? Perhaps to include my mom's last name (Ledoux) in the whole shebang. Maybe if I go into the Witness Protection Program. Or if I become a rockstar (Kathryn Metz doesn't really work. I need something like Axl Rose. Well, not that same one, but you get my gist.). Point being, I yam what I yam.

But why can't I just respect women's decisions to change their last names? I wish I could just let it go but it really angers me. I understand a couple wanting unity, but how about a combination of both names (creating a new one from the two, or hyphenating or just both adding the other person's name to theirs)? Or a new name altogether? The New York Times has an interesting discussion of the whole situation here.

I just get so frustrated - especially by college-educated women - when women even consider the name change. Whether you have an attachment to your name (perhaps because of heritage or cultural reasons) or not (maybe you don't know where your name comes from or don't care), it seems silly to take a man's name just because that's what's been done. I am my own person, my own woman, my own Kathryn Metz and I just don't see the sense in becoming someone else.

HOWEVER I am trying (learning!) to be more OK with this regular occurrence. And for the record, several of my progressive, liberal, feminist girlfriends have taken their husband's last names, so obviously I have to be OK with it. And I'm getting there. Little by little. Grrrrr....

5 days & counting

So...Peru again. I leave on Friday for a month and I've already been having anxiety dreams.

This time I vow
1. to appropriately budget my time
2. to train religiously for the marathon, even mid-jungle city
3. to only spend time with people who love me and will not abuse my friendship
4. to drink lots of water & stay hydrated
5. to stay focused.

Holiday Spirit

So last night, I had a lovely dinner with my girls, the primary motivation being the despedida of our dear friend K.C. who is moving to Houston. I still get together every year with my old roommates and best girlfriends from college, and we had our last reunion on my birthday weekend. I have another set of non-roommates but best girlfriends from graduate school, and honestly, that chemistry is rare: when four or five people get along so well with each other that they can talk for hours and hours and never bore.

I am fortunate enough to be part of two such groups. The first is my 702 girls from Bowling Greenn. We lived together in some combination at 702 E. Wooster Street for several years. We all knew each other independently of the house (from the dorms, or the music building, the art building, or whathaveyou), but we all got along (and still do, nearly ten years later) just wonderfully and we are each other's support network: through family deaths, miscarriages, marriages, break-ups, children, new homes, old homes...the whole nine yards.

My Austin ladies are women with whom I trained for the Chicago Marathon. We also knew each other independently (through the music building, through other friends or whathaveyou) but we are also each other's support network just two years later: through family deaths (still), break-ups, new boyfriends, new homes, old homes, etc.

Women need each other. I don't mean to be the sexist feminist whatever, but it's true: we need the support and love and nurturing that only we can give. It's not to say that there aren't loving, tender, supporting, nurturing men out there, but it's just not the same. It's actually encoded in our DNA in ways that it isn't in men. And thank goodness that I have these women, especially during the holiday season, which I love, but it really sucks without my mom.