2 Agosto
    Sometimes it feels like even the llamas and sheep and cows that I pass are staring at me. I haven’t seen a white person since I arrived over 2 weeks ago, and the people here don’t seem to know how to respond to me. The men often want to ask about farming or ranching in the U.S., which I unfortunately don’t know very much about. They are also interested in politics, but don’t seem to know much about U.S. policies except that they don’t like them. The women often make jokes about how I’m going to burn up in the sun, and how I probably have to do so much more work here than in my life in the U.S. I guess in a lot of ways they’re right - I don’t do nearly as much mundane housework back in Minnesota. I’m beginning to learn why appliances were invented. I find myself spending maybe 30% of my time here doing laundry, cooking, washing dishes, etc. In a way, since I don’t have a lot of other things to do, it is nice to spend my time doing all these things for my livelihood. I’m also more and more aware of how little I actually know how to do in my life. Here the people fix their own electricity, cope with dirty or sometimes no water, build their own houses, butcher their own meat, grow their own food, make many of their own clothes, change their own gas. There are so many people with so many skills in my life. With out all of them and their work, I wouldn’t know the first thing about the conveniences that make my life possible.
    The women also frequently ask me if I’m used to life here by now. I don’t really know what to say to that. I am used to it in that I’ve got a routine, I know my way around, I know how to use the stove and toilet in the house and I know where to buy eggs and cheese. But I could never really get used to life here. It’s too different. I think it’s actually really important for me to remember who I am and what I like to do. Just because I’m in Peru doesn’t change who I am and what I enjoy. Sure I have to be flexible about some things (no matter how badly I want it, there will never be a hot shower), but it would just be confusing to try and pretend like I fit in here. Yesterday I went for a run to Sotopampa, a nearby town just down the dirt road. The road workers suddenly decided that since I wasn’t wearing field clothes it was okay to whistle and cat call. Everyone I passed looked at me like running for exercise was the strangest thing they had ever seen in their lives. But fuck it, I like to run and I’m getting tired of everyone looking at me like I’m an alien. Even if I am the first person they’ve ever seen from the U.S., they’ve now seen me for 2 and a half weeks so get over it already.