On Sunday morning I left Guadalupe, the swealtering desert town near the sea, with it´s heat and dust and beautiful people, for Chachapoyas, a cloud forest on the eastern slopes of the Andes. The bus was slow, full, and hot. Every hour we stopped and children would climb aboard selling fried banana chips, lemons, popcorn, and water. At one stop one of an adult passengers rose, grabbed a briefcase, stood up and proceeded to give a half an hour presentation on health. He wandered the isles, passing out packets of balms and various medicines, then return and ask for money. At another stop, a young boy, 10 maybe, climbed aboard and paced nervously. After a minute he lifted his voice and begin to recite a long poem, almost a song, and though nervous he spoke with force. I respected his bravery, and my heart extended towards his need. When he wandered the isles for money I gave him 20 soles, half the cost of my 14 hour bus ride. He sat next to me, shook my hand and thanked me deeply with his eyes.

As we traveled the landscape changed from dry desert, to high lush rice filled valleys, to hot papaya highland jungles. Pigs and goats wandered freely by the side of the road, small villages passed quickly, with all the childern in summer clothes playing volley ball in the streets. In Bagua Grande, a sprawling hot mountain city, we stopped for supper. I ate a hot hearty bowl of chicken soup for 50 cents. We left and in the swealtering night, we barelled on over streams, along cliffs and up steep valleys, into the darkness. I arrived in Pedro Ruiz late at night, and was quickly ushered into a taxi. From there we drove for an hour up into the cloudy wet hills of chachapoyas, dodging piles of boulders that had fallen from the high rock cliffs along the roadside.

It was midnight when we entered the damp, wet city nestled in the hills. I called Enita, the sister of Homero, mi tio, who was preparing a place for me to stay. Homero had warned me that his older sister was very religious. I pictured a stern, serious, and devout catholic. Instead I was greated by a young looking and lively 62 year old woman who spoke fast, smiled often, and laughed both to herself and everyone else. We went to her house, entering through a giant wooden door and passing through a corridor of houses. Her house was small and in the back, behind a wrought iron fence. She led me to a cold concrete room, it smelled of must, with a lumpy pillows and a bed like a brick.

at 5 in the morning I woke up to the bellowing cockles of the strong throated rooster literally right outside my door. Every minute for 2 hours. I resisted the urge to strangle it. As the coldness became slightly less cold, and the rain dripped, and the chickens scratched, and the must invaded my nostrils, and the cold shower waited, and I awoke watched by multiple jesuses. In the morning I discovered I lived with 1 rooster, 11 hens, a herd of guniea pigs, 1 scraggely jumpy white cat, all in a yard the size of my living room in Olympia. In her kitchen I discovered piles of herbs, baskets of bananas and potatoes, local dark and moist sugar, gigantic papayas and a place lovingly set for me.

after breakfast I set out for the English School I had told I was interested in volunteering. When I walked in I found out two teachers had decided to quit that day. They hired me on the spot and gave me three classes from 5 to 10pm every night, and one class in the afternoons. I started that day, after very little sleep, and absolutely no idea of what I was doing.

OK so here I am!

The teaching has been awesome, really empowering to be working with so many different ages. It is also fun to get to interact with so many chachapoyas. Some of the teaching has been downright magical, especially my work with 12 and 13 year olds. I love them! Some of the best and most fulfilling times of my trip so far have occured here teaching.

In addition to my formal job (which I get paid for) I befriended an English professor on the street. He invited me into his class13yearolds, I went and had incredible time joking, talking philosophically about relationships, and exchanging spanish and english. He introduced me to the class and then let me teach for an hour. Afterwords the whole class invited me to dinner on Saturday night to experience some local cuisine and hang out. The whole class!

My days consist of waking up, eating some delicious breakfast, then going to a cafe to prepare lesson plans for my classes or visit a local school where my friend teaches. Then I get a break, eat lunch (Eva ... you would love Enita´s cooking! It´s fresh, vegetable rich, quinoa, marinated figs, cilantro soups, squash) and finish my lesson plans. 3 days a week I have a conversation class with 2 teenage girls in the afternoon, the other days I take Spanish classes. I´m busy! it´s alot of work. At night I return, sleep, and am awoken at 4,5, or 6 in the morning and do it all over again. The weekends are free for exploring ancient ruins, gigantic waterfalls, and other intriguing sights.

That´s life for now.