What I learned in Mancora

Hello again!

First - all of your responses to my questions were WONDERFUL. Particularly the dream/nightmare ones. I didn't realize how nuts you are. Really. Nuts.

I'm back from my visa-refreshing vacay. It was a much needed break from my 'unhappy place' in Chiclayo. I'd fallen into a depressing funk here and with all the work drama, I needed out. I'd say I met almost as many people in those two weeks than I've met in the entire 3 months in Chiclayo. It was a wonderful learning experience. It's funny - while I'm in Chiclayo, I'm counting down the days to go home. But as soon as I'm out, I'm brainstorming strategies to come back to Latin America - work in a hostel, teach english... there must be a way.

Anyway, I spent my time first in Mancora, Peru, then on to Vilcabamba, Ecuador. I won't spend any time talking about Vilcabamba, because while it was absolutely enjoyable, it was a total tourist experience that's not really worth sharing or reading. A very fun and wonderful place (it's called the Valley of Eternal Youth because people regularly live past 100 years old), but my experience in Mancora has made a much greater impression on me.

Hope you don't mind - this will be a more seriously themed email than usual.

MANCORA
I was totally excited to go to Mancora, a famous surf town on the Northern coast of Peru. I'd heard there were tourists and I was looking forward to finally being able to fully communicate with people. My spanish is pretty great now, thanks to Necessity. But subtleties are lost in translation... and I was looking forward to being able to say exactly what I mean.

However, thanks to being immersed in Peruvian culture for 3 months, I turned into a bit of a weirdo and forgot how to make friends in english. Okay, not entirely true. But for some reason, I felt a lot more comfortable hanging out with locals than the tourists, who I found myself eyeing suspiciously from a distance for a while.

A Colombian named Paola took me under her wing and introduced me to her posse of artisan buddies. She knew the town well because she'd lived there 2 years ago and was just back visiting, to sort some things out with her schizophrenic American baby daddy.

Three reasons why Paolo is one of the most intriguing people I've met in my life:
- Has a child with a 60-year-old schizophrenic American (who I met, and who at one point accused me of being part of a communist conspiracy)
- When you ask her how many children she has, she responds "Three living, one dead." (she's only 29, but looks 22)
- Daughter of an ex-mayor of Medellin, drug-trade-capital of Colombia / infamous Pablo Escobar's turf

Anyway, my most memorable night in Mancora was spent with Paola and three Colombian refugees, who at the moment were settled in Mancora but were obviously nomadic. Peter Pan's lost boys. One was even wearing a single feather earring. I think they were all around 19 years old. We spent the night sitting out on their deck, playing music (uh, me listening) and drinking. At one point, the boys started playing a really beautiful, hopeful Colombian folk song, about what a wonderful life it will be when the war is over. Paola sang. I don't know when it happened, but she just started weeping. The boys didn't say anything, just watched her and played. When she got to the end, she pleaded, "otra vez.. otra vez... " (again... again...). They played the song three times in a row and she wept and sang the whole way through. "It's not true. It never came true," she said at the end. Earlier that day, she'd explained to me that being Colombian means something complicated. For her, it means that when she thinks back on all her childhood friends, she knows that most of them are dead - and the ones who aren't, are the ones who got out of the country and are living abroad. I've met a few Colombians in my life, but none have ever offered so much to me. I truly feel indebted to Paola for that. The whole time I spent with her, she called me "niña" (aka little girl). Normally, if a 29-year-old called me little girl, I think I'd be a bit peeved. But I'm pretty sure Paola has about 45 years of life experience on me, so it didn't bother me.

Through Paola and Carlos, the owner of my hostel, I also met a bunch of the local artisans. They were all really wonderful, good-hearted people, but hanging out with them for just 3 or 4 days allowed me see an ugly side of their town. Mancora survives entirely on tourism. And not cultural tourism like Macchu Piccu attracts, but party tourism. It's always a fiesta in Mancora. Europeans and North Americans come to Mancora, spend every night drinking and smoking, and then go back to their normal, ordered lives. But Mancorians are living in the 'escape'. I think everyone I met was struggling with alcoholism or drug abuse. Although I shouldn't say 'struggling' because they all just accepted it as normal - as part of everyday life. I'd be sitting on the beach, drinking a beer with a friend - and look over, and he'd be shooting up. One time at 10am I asked Carlos if he was drunk. "Of course!" he said with laugh. I'm starting to see that economics really is the driving force of history, of the human experience. Because what's the alternative for a town whose economic survival depends on this kind of activity? Is living in poverty any better?

Anyway, after four days in Mancora - despite meeting some really good-hearted people - I was ready to leave. I don't want to give the impression that it as a totally depressing place - you should visit if you're ever in the area! But these less fun experiences had the greatest impression on me.

OTHER NEWS

Since coming back to Chiclayo, things are looking up. I'm still surviving on the afterglow of happiness from exploring other parts. My boss never came back from his month-long vacation (I think he'll finally be in on Monday), so I've been alone in the office. Which suits me fine.

I've also been in close contact with my Canadian boss and we're discussing a potential research project that I'll be getting started on soon, that I'm SUPER excited about. It's a project that my boss was intending to do himself, before he broke his back and changed his plans about traveling to Peru. But now I get to do it! I'll be interviewing people involved in the "solidarity economy" (aka social economy), a really awesome alternative to neo-liberal globalization. AND, if funding is secured, I may get to FLY to other parts of the country to do some interviews (ahem. first ever 'business' trip.) It's exactly the kind of work I like to do - leaving the office, talking with people, writing... so I'm pretty ecstatic. Not to mention my excitement about the theme. I've read a lot about the solidarity economy, but I found the best explanation in an interview that my boss did with Roberto Lay, a community-organizer in Tarapoto, in the jungle. He's a pretty important guy - some of the documents he wrote testifying to Fujimori's government's involvement in the drug-trade were used by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. And I - me - might get to the jungle to talk with him. Anyway, for those who can read Spanish, I've attached the article. It's an interesting read. I couldn't sleep after reading it, I was so excited. I've also attached a shorter English summary, but it's not quite as great.

Anyway, one more week until CHRISTMAS vacations!! Heading to Cusco then.

Miss you all... HAPPY HOLIDAYS!