As
I see a majority of the people I’ve grown to love and care about prepare for
there final days here I think about my final days, my final reflection, and
what I want it to mean to me. Even though this is the later half of my stay in
Peru I feel another part of me waking up to this experience, another part of me
growing rapidly, eager to let loose, explore and push my limits both physically
and mentally. Some people may think it’s a little late, a little too far into a
new experience to suddenly have this change or revelation but it wasn’t sudden,
much like me it was growing, manifesting in ways to bring me to this point of
change, this point where I want to stretch the threads of this blanket of an
experience.
As
much as I sense the positivity in this atmosphere I question if the people I
aim to serve are really looking at my efforts, my talents with reserved
perceptions. Sometimes I’m discouraged at the thought of what others,
specifically my professional superiors, could really be thinking, I guess I am
my own worst enemy. Those brief experiences when I’m my own worst enemy occur
in the most solitary of moments alone when my mind is a little too free to
wonder, to speculate. Luckily for me the moment the sun hits my skin its warmth
washes me in new perspective, in a new day, with new opportunities to prove
myself good enough or to prove that these doubts are only self-critical
thoughts.
I
cooked dinner for my family this week, while it was a simple fried chicken
breast accompanied by one of my baked pasta creations it took me back to the
days of working at the restaurant. Having to cut the chicken breast away from
the bone and then filet them for a quick fry it was reminiscently therapeutic.
My host mom was surprised at my bartering skills in the market; I thought it
was actually funny because I was expecting her to be more helpful. Although I
know I come from a slightly wealthier family in Peru, I expected her to be a bit
frugal, or at least haggle a little. Instead, while I was cheese shopping she
offered to help pay for some of the ingredients, but as someone with a great
sense of pride in presenting a meal I controlled every aspect of, I wouldn’t
allow her to spend a Centimo (the local coin).
After
impressing her with some bartering skills I hope I continued to surprise her
with my culinary prowess. She admitted to expecting my food to be bland, and
very simple. Apparently the last volunteer whom prepared dinner left a less
than hopeful taste in her mouth of how American food tastes. Nevertheless, I’m
not sure if it was my host dad telling me to put up an extra plate for his
breakfast tomorrow, or my host mom having three plates of food, but somehow I
felt really good about the meal I prepared and was sure that everyone enjoyed
it in some capacity. I look foreword to bonding with my family more and having more exchanges on the local cuisine with my
host mother, as I’m starting to realize the saying the way to anyone’s heart is
through their stomach, applies to more than Americans.
With
much anxiety for a new experience in the same place
Mateo
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