19 July
    After 19 hours of traveling, Edgar and I pulled up to a house made of mud bricks with a tin roof. We’re in Ccasapata, Peru, several hours drive from the closest store, let alone the closest internet cafe. The house is indistinguishable from any of the other houses on the dirt street, including a tin door that is only about 4 feet tall. Inside, there is a storage room and an open area with a little garden, a clothes line, a sink, and a small building with a toilet. A ladder leads up to a wooden ledge that is build over the storage room looking out onto the open area. The ledge has three tin doors, each about 4 feet tall and 1.5 feet wide, that open into the bedrooms. When I arrived the water was off, which meant no toilet or sink or showers (though the showers are freezing cold when they do work). As I put my suitcase into my room, a scuttling noise in the corner alerted me to my roommate - a large, light brown rat descending from the ceiling (which is actually just a plastic covering under the tin roofing). I have named him Mateo, after a friend I met in Cusco.
    Well, I thought, this is my chance to put my money where my mouth is. Most people interested in development, including myself, preach the importance of immersing yourself in the community in order to make a project effective. Many philanthropy groups throw money from afar at buildings that will never be used, or at systems that the local culture rejects. Here in Cchopca, several different NGOs and development organizations have built guinea pig (cuy) pens and left, without taking the time to monitor the effects of the project, or even to understand whether the pens were needed in the first place. (After being here only one day, it seems to me that better irrigation would be far more useful.) But Yanapai actually stays here, working with the community. Edgar has worked here for 20 years and knows most of the townspeople, as well as all of the local officials. This was one of the reasons I wanted to work with this organization. So when the meals of bread and jam get old, and the dirt floors turn everything I own a rusty color of brown, I need to remember that there are strings and strings of dried mushrooms hanging in the kitchen. How cool is that?!