Modern Marvels

Sometimes I walk around thinking, 'These people are the from the same race who built Machu Picchu with exceptionally sophisticated engineering??'

Today I got to experience more Love from the Cusco Post Office. A package, sent from the US one month ago arrived last week and I finally received the pick-up notice yesterday. You can only pick up packages at the post office between 8am-11am. I decided to take a little time off from work this morning to pick up my package, only to end up waiting until 9am before they even called my number (4). Once in the package office, the package people tell me I need to open my package and also need to pay tax. I open the package, which contained some previously frozen ice packs, which, as one might guess, after a month in the post, had melted. But miraculously none of this water leaked out until I opened my package on top of the post office desk. Divine justice, I think. The desk probably really needed a cleaning like everything else around here. Apparently their machine had registered I had CD's (oh god, no, CD's!!) in my package and that had to be verified. To my surprise they told me that I had to pay $37 US in taxes, but do you think you can pay this AT the post office?? Nope. So they sent me about a half-mile up the street to a bank, wherein the bank lady told me the number on my certificate did no exist and I had to return to the post office. Which I did. The post office man told me to go to a different, farther bank. Which I did. But they don't take cards, so then I have to find an ATM, return to the bank, get personally escorted to a special desk where I paid my $107 soles, returned to the post office and had to pay ANOTHER $7 soles to re-pick up my package. Three hours later I officially receive my 5-day Special Post package one month later.

Another thing that makes me question the intelligence here.... electricity is very expensive here, thus most people have propane to heat their water and warm their stoves. The Propane Delivery Boy? Yeah. That is a guy about 15 years-old on a 1970's honda motorcycle with three propane tanks strapped to the back of his bike, and to conserve gas, he turns his engine off while going downhill. I will also mention the police here have the same kind of motorcycles, and they too coast downhill.

Much to my delight, I recently discovered there is a Pentacostal Church on my block, with full-on dancing, singing, and tambourines.

I am sad to say this might be my last day in this particular internet cafe. All the desks are slightly tilted toward the left, so I am definitely leaning as I type this. When the 12 year-old girls running the place aren't watching Telenovelas (Soap Operas) on You-Tube, they are blasting old school hard rock on the stereo. The spacebars all stick, and if you type anything remotely 'racy' on a search engine (relationship, kiss) or if you try to look at photos that 'may' contain adult contect (e.g., Dad's Harley website photos), the computer instantly locks down into ANTI-PORN mode and you can no longer use that computer.

My first Art Studio session with my teenage girls went great last Friday. It was the first time I have seen all the girls actively, happily engaged in an activity, and for two hours no less. They were enthralled with all the new art materials (particularly the chalk and oil pastels), they are cherishing their very own art notebooks, and after much giggling, they patiently sat through a short lecture about being non-judgmental about other's art in this particular studio. My favorite moment with this particularly rowdy bunch was when their two directors came in during discussion time and saw all their girls sitting quietly and listening to one another. Completely different young women. Thank you again to everyone who has donated to this project! I am going to try to find another volunteer to continue with the project once I return to the US.