Well, my god...where to start? I am back from Coporaque (that should be obvious, I have no access to the internet or time to search it out while there). I feel like the trip to Coporaque, the two days with the children, and the trip back are trials of survival for me. Both tests of patience and of sound stomach. Miraculously, I enjoyed myself for most of the time, going only with the president of our organization, Leonel, to draw and paint two murals of Coporaque on sheets of fabric. I find myself a complete mess after painting, usually, and this was no exception...times about 24 children. We had a local woman prepare meals for both Saturday and Sunday lunch...two big plates of food, plus an AMAZING cake called torta helado. Helado is normally ice cream, but this was gelatin mixed with cream, in three layers, with real cake in the center. They pour it into a mold, let one layer set, and then the other two, at some point tossing in the pound cake. The cake is a freak of nature, but it is good, I have to admit, despite its brightly colored layers that almost make it look like a cake the Barbie factory would make.

The children worked well together, were relatively attentive, ate most of their food and didn´t fight hardly at all. There is now paint everywhere, and will probably remain for all eternity. Because we had only four paint brushes, and about 50 Q Tips, some of the children took to finger painting (including myself) because we had such a vast expanse to cover in the short two days. Home life at the part house part guest rooms where we stay was really nice. I was so excited to see Antonella and Zamilla, their two little girls, the second and third youngest of four. They are so affectionate, so sweet, and love everything I do. Zamilla (Read-Chamilla) is quite a fire cracker. She had a hard time remembering please, and orders me and others around to tie her shoes or pick her up and play with her (she´s four or five). The first morning, over breakfast, I asked her where her puppy was, since I normally see it poking around, hanging out with the chickens in their pen. Zamilla told me, with a dead serious face, that Ouicho, the dog, had eaten a chicken, and they had had to kill it. I was speechless...I looked at her, as she was surely serious, and said feebly, ¨How sad.¨ I didn´t want to have a conversation about it, mostly because I faced this inner conflict of, my god, that is really harsh, but when it comes to your livelihood, a pet is less important, right? But he was so cute...Toward the end of breakfast, I´d managed to stop thinking about it...the family had sat down to join us over bread (literally, the only thing we ate for breakfast both days, wow), and in enters cute fuzzy filthy little Ouicho. ¨Zamilla!!!¨ I yelled! Her parents looked immediately at her, and her mouth fell open. Busted. I told them the story, and they were not surprised. She is their bad child, they have admitted before. They don´t know why she´s like this, her mother says. The older two never were like this...perhaps it is middle child syndrome, I think to myself. Little Shit. Mierdita? I wonder if that is acceptable to call a child in Spanish? I don´t think I will risk it!!

I had the pleasant opportunity to return to the hospital yesterday after first stopping in at another gastroenterology clinic across the street...only to find out that despite their hours of attention from 6am to 7pm, they dont have any appointments until 6pm. Every week day. Often I stumble over myself in conversations here because I am overcoming disbelief, and not sure if there´s been a communicative error, or it really is that ridiculous. It really was. Where are the doctor´s all day, then? At the hospital, of course. So, I go over there, shuffle through the waiting elderly and mothers with babies...wait in this line, then another, then another...back to the first...no appointment, not in the system, have to pay first...upstairs, downstairs, left, right, through this hall...you get the idea. As I am standing at the window waiting for this woman to sort through whatever mess is on her computer, she hands me an appointment. Afternoon. There are no options? I ask her. Options for what?, she baffles. Options for appointments you nut ball! I can´t in the afternoon, I have work. Surely there is something else. Waiting waiting waiting...ah yes, afternoon afternoon...hmm...no tomorrow in the morning! No, Wednesday. Okay, fine. I escape before the mob sets in of impatient Peruvians who are all very pissed off at each other, presuming their issue is more important than the person in front of them, or the other twenty people...and barge in at my window more than once with their papers. Sometimes they are rejected, sometimes their persistence is heeded. I think in the US if someone did that, they would be injured instantly. I wonder if they have unemployment here...imagine that line, if the hospital is this bad.

Some good news...the parents of the children in the school we serve breakfast at called a meeting to be held yesterday. Chris, the American, attended. We hadn´t a clue what the meeting was about, other than breakfast. We were very worried, but confident that if they don´t want breakfast they way we do it, they don´t have to have it at all. We all have short fuses these days, knowing the impending doom of lack of manpower is coming in just one week. So, Chris reports back that the mothers love what we´re doing, hated the way it was just a few weeks ago (due to one particular German girl who has a very short temper, apparently, and little room for criticism), and one to help. They all agree that it´s crazy to have people from other countries do everything for them. I agree too. The trouble with this organization is the seeming lack of effort to create sustainable, long lasting programs for change...Feeding kids every morning back they don´t have good nutritious meals at home is just nuts with out education for the parents or the children...I am learning, thankfully, more about what I want to see and don´t want to see in the development of impoverished areas. Dependency is of course the last thing I want to see, but it can happen so quickly. So, beginning next week, we will go with them on Monday´s to the market to buy everything in ridiculous bulk so it will last longer, be cheaper, and will not have to be trekked to San Isidro by bus every friggen day by us. This is the best organizational news I have seen yet.

The second piece of news, unrelated to Peru for the most part, is that I was accepted into Clark University!!!! I found out last night, and called home right away. Better yet, they have offered at 40% discount for my tuition. I have never been offered anything like this before. I would be stupid not to take it. Nevertheless, I am sick with worry about the lifestyle I have chosen for myself for the next two years. I decided I am going to try to make it as hospitable as I can, despite it being Massachusetts. I will try to find a living situation that truly suits my needs...study hard, and really invest myself in this community I will be a part of. The disappointment of all of this now is that I won´t be travelling to Belize in November, as I had anticipated, assuming the worst from Clark. I will try my best to integrate the organization I found into my studies...Organic farming, international development, renewable energy...self suffiency and growth. Everything I can think if that I am looking for in my life. I have a lot to do.