I will see some of my closest friends in the world, I will be able to take classes that are stressful but relatively inconsequential, it will be summertime, Ithaca will still have its gorges, my shower won’t shock me, I will be able to pet dogs again, and most importantly, I won’t go into cardiac arrest walking up a hill.

As much as I am looking forward to heading home, there are many things I will miss about Peru. A lot of people have asked me if I am ready to come home and part of me is for the reasons listed above. But part of me, the part that needs to be abroad, is grieving the departure. It’s been three months but it’s felt like three days. I’ve learned a lot (see last blog post) but there is still so much left to do. It will be hard to go back to a life with academic responsibilities.

One thing I won't miss: Cuy

I just wished my grandfather a happy 85^th birthday. He asked me how my summer has been which I replied honestly, that it has been best summer of my life. My only complaint is that my summer specifically, and my life more generally, is going incredibly fast. His response: “Jonah, I just turned 85. How fast do you think it’s gone for me?” That put things into perspective. Although I am saying goodbye to Peru now, I know I will come back.

As they say here, “Así es la vida” (such is life). And my life is best when things stay fresh and important. Living in South America has reaffirmed the value of going abroad. I have learned a lot and am eager to once again challenge myself academically. I knew I would have to leave and I’m excited to start my senior year. With that, I can leave Peru. I have eaten my last lomo saltado, taken my last salsa class, and rode in my last combi. It’s been an experience I’ll never forget and always reminisce about fondly. Hasta luego Peru.

Jonah Brill just recently wrapped up a stint volunteering as a Field Researcher with Arariwa in Cusco, Peru.

Yuppie travel gear. Nearly every middle-class hiker that arrives at Machu Picchu or any other hiking destination comes with extendable walking sticks, nice Columbia or North Face sports gear, and a massive full-brimmed hiking hat. How much of this is necessary or appropriate, I’m not sure, but I guess everyone needs to look the part of the rugged (or not so) rugged traveler.

Machu Picchu

Speed limits. They don’t exist in Cusco. Although there are signs everywhere for a 35 KPH speed limit, the rule here is that the speed limit is as fast as the car can accelerate and maintain.

Spanish. Like any worthy pursuit, Spanish provides an endless amount of study and time to master. When I first arrived, I thought I was going to be fluent by the time I left. Although I can now listen without internally translating and say what I want to say, it will be a long time before I am eloquent. Unfortunately, that means I will probably have to come back to South America for an extended period of time.

Thinking before I speak. My first couple of weeks here were slightly challenging when it came to communicating. I always had to think about what I was going to say before speaking. I think this is a valuable skill for all languages; hopefully I will translate this patience and thought process to English.

Electronics. Everyone my age (21 years old) give or take, is connected to some form of electronic equipment. I’m guilty myself. Everywhere I go I turn on my iPod and listen to the soundtrack of my life. It’s getting a little ridiculous though as I saw a kid, probably aged 16, with a laptop at Machu Picchu. Who takes a laptop to one of the wonders of the world? I’m sure his blog updates could wait a couple of hours.

Blog. Every traveler has one.

Home comforts. Being abroad for an extended period of time can be rattling at first. Thankfully Cusco has a full supply of chocolate, popcorn, and fresh oranges.

I’m leaving Cusco in a week and it’s strange to think I’ll be starting my senior year of college so soon. Then the real world starts. It’s tough to say how much I have really learned from this experience because it is still occurring. However, I’m fairly confident that it will be one of those things that I am still learning from 20 years down the road. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have changed anything.

Jonah Brill is currently volunteering as a Field Researcher with Arariwa in Cusco, Peru.

Corporación Condor is an organization based in Bogotá, Colombia that travels to marginalized areas all around the country to provide free medical care. In this essay, the group of volunteer doctors and members of the Colombian Air Force traveled to Providencia Island for a marathon of surgeries and check-ups, helping a total of 1,280 people over a single weekend.

ngo profile no. 01 ::: corporación condor from leah on Vimeo.

Leah is currently living in Bogotá, Colombia working with various nonprofit organizations and taking photographs of everyday stuff. This multimedia is the first of a year-long series telling stories for 25 NGO’s all across South America. To see more photos from South America and learn more about the 25twenty-five project, visit her bilingual blog or join the Facebook page.

I’ve noticed a handful of random acts of kindness lately.  Either they’re happening more frequently or I’m just more observant lately.

A number of them occur on buses.  I never see anyone hesitate to get up for a woman with a child or for a senior citizen.   People instantly jump up the second they get on the buses to offer their seat, without a second of hesitation.

Yesterday, I saw a middle-aged woman with long gray hair carrying a canvas bag filled with fruits and vegetables getting off the bus, and the man that was waiting to get on just nonchalantly put out his hand to help her step down off the bus.  It all appeared so natural and smooth as if they were old friends.  But they weren’t – they were most likely strangers, and they both merrily went on their ways.

A couple weeks ago one happened to me.  I was traveling in the capital city and realized, after I had tucked into my hotel that I forgot toothpaste.  It was past 10 o’clock at night and I went to reception to ask the attendant where the closest place I could get toothpaste was.  He told me where it was (far) and offered instead, some of his personal toothpaste he had with him for the night.

Additionally, lately I’ve been getting lost a lot.  Or maybe just venturing into new areas that are unknown.  And whenever I ask anyone for directions, they drop whatever they are doing to help me, walk me to the corner or the place, or offer up any other sort of advice/help to get me where I am going.

Though I’ve been living in this culture for over a year now, lately, I feel as though I have become an observer, a wallflower.  I’ve made somewhat of a conscious effort to step back and really see this culture, as I know it, not as a newcomer, but as someone who has lived and worked in it.  When I stepped back and observed, I saw something great – the kindness of strangers, and it was lovely.

Rebecca Stumpf is currently a Peace Corps volunteer in Copey de Dota, Costa Rica. To read more about her experiences and see more of her photography, check out her website and photography blog. For some delicious recipes, check out her food blog.

Menu del Día: Depending on where it is bought, this standard lunch costs anywhere from 3-soles to 4-soles. When you pay 4-soles, you feel like you are getting scammed a little bit. Either there should be enough food to leave you feeling uncomfortably full or it has to be absolutely delicious. Most of the time it’s neither. You get a sopa with a large potato and a few chicken toes and nails; a segundo, which is the main course generally the rest of the chicken and a refreshing chicha morada, a maiz based drink.

La Sopa (chicken feet included)

Combis: No matter where you are in the city, the rides cost 60 centimos. As mentioned in a previous blog post, I am partial to Batman and generally have to wait so I can ride with the Dark Knight.

Taxis: There is a fixed rate in the city. During the day, rides cost 2.50-soles and at night they cost 3.00-soles. Sometimes cab drivers get cheeky and try to charge more. If you are leaving a discoteca they might try to charge 8-soles. A simple response of, “Vivo acá, no me robes” (I live here, don’t rob me) should suffice. The taxi drivers love that.

Chocolate: A Sublime (pronounced soo-blee-may) chocolate bar costs 1-sol exactly. I average about two a day.

Tutoring Lessons: I’ve been fortunate to take lessons with the world’s greatest tutor, Yesenia. They cost 20-soles/hour. She comes to my apartment with a full lesson plan and homework. We talk about everything from politics in Cusco to the imperfect subjunctive. The best thing about these lessons is that they are all in Spanish. Yesenia no habla inglés.

Ceviche: We have a semi-weekly outing to Olas Bravas to get the world’s best ceviche. It costs everyone 18-soles each and we order enough delicious food that leaves us feeling uncomfortably full.

Apartment: My apartment in the professional Magisterio neighborhood costs $90/month. I share the place with two others and we have a full kitchen (although all of our appliances electrically shock us), a living room with a bookshelf, and a bathroom with hot water.

A Cusqueña: Although it might be a stretch to label Cusqueña Cusco’s premier beer, it is certainly found everywhere. At a bar, expect to pay about 10-soles for a 650ml pint. There is a certain rule, which we all ascribe to here, and that is that it is always happy hour. If we do not want beer, we usually order two mojitos for the happy hour special of 20-soles.

I might be a little rusty on Maslow’s hierarchy of necessities but I’m fairly certain that shelter, chocolate, beer, food, tutoring and combi rides fit in there somewhere.

Jonah Brill is currently volunteering as a Field Researcher with Arariwa in Cusco, Peru.

1. Life goes at a different pace here – slower, calmer. Here, I very rarely feel rushed or stressed or pressed for time. It’s the pura vida mindset that Ticos use to infiltrate their lives and their way of being; it’s that everything-is-okay, no-worries sort of mindset that has really become part of me.

2. Here, we are not responsible for our actions – God is. Everything here is “Si Dios quiere” (If  God Wills.) It’s funny how the answer to everything is, Si Dios quiere to phrases such as: “See you tomorrow”; “Let’s have a meeting next Monday at 4 p.m.”; “I’m flying to Panama tomorrow.”  Si Dios quiere is always the right answer.

3. Hot water is a commodity, so you really grow to appreciate it.

4. I have over a hundred avocados ripening on three trees 50 feet from my back door.

5. The typical greeting when passing in the street is not, hola, but adios, which literally means “to God.”

6. How I can walk down the street and say hi to someone sitting out front of their house, and before I know it I will be inside drinking cafecito and eating bizcocho – mere strangers five minutes earlier.

7. I am getting more physical and mental rest here than ever before, not to mention, probably adding 10 years on to my life.

8. Horseback riding is a common form of transportation.  No one looks twice at the man and his horse trotting down the highway.

9. I love how coffee here brings you to stop and slow down, not grab and go. I love how afternoon cafecito is a time come together and converse. I love how most places don’t have “to-go” cups. I love how coffees are small here. I love how the coffee culture here, where it is grown and cultivated and valued, is the exact opposite of what it is in the United States.

10. I love how here you can spend an entire day on the sofa reading, while the rain tap, tap, taps on the tin roof, for six months, and not feel guilty. I love that.

Thank you, Costa Rica, for being you.

Rebecca Stumpf is currently a Peace Corps volunteer in Copey de Dota, Costa Rica. To read more about her experiences and see more of her photography, check out her website and photography blog. For some delicious recipes, check out her food blog.

The day began like any other. We planned to meet at 11 a.m. to walk up the mountain. Naturally, people did not begin arriving until two hours later. By 2 p.m., we finally made it to our destination. The Peruvians who had accompanied us immediately began to construct our cooking furnaces. Like any friendly gathering, a competition began based on which team could build the best huatia. There was no real winner as everyone became more fascinated with the endless amounts of Inca Kola, perhaps the soda with the most sugar in the world.

Adam putting the finishing touches on the huatia.

No meal here in Peru is complete without a side of potatoes. Peruvians are absolute magicians when it comes to cooking any sort of papas and the huatia event was no different. After about 45 minutes, we all sat down together to eat our potatoes and trucha. The trout was seasoned perfectly; anything tastes better with a little bit of dirt.

We followed the meal with an event that would make third grade boys in gym class pee themselves with excitement. The game was called mata gente, which translates to “kill people.” Simply put, the game consists of two circles with one team on the outside and the other team forming an inner ring. The teams were divided in the fairest way imaginable, boys vs. girls. Imagine the second circle being only five feet behind the first and having a dodgeball to peg at the opposing team. That is mata gente. I think without much extrapolation, it’s easy to guess which team won. By the end of it, the women were on the sideline nursing their injuries. It was very Lord of the Flies-esque to see how quickly the men degenerated into absolute animals. Like I said, a third grade boy would have drooled at the chance to peg his crush with a dodgeball.

The event ended with the sunset. After taking in one last view of the valley, we packed up our belongings and left. The women hobbled home and we men patted ourselves on the back for our victory. Easily enough, we left our stoves right where they were to be used for the next afternoon huatia event.

Jonah Brill is currently volunteering as a Field Researcher with Arariwa in Cusco, Peru.

I’ve been struggling with saying goodbye, too. “Goodbye,” “Adiós,” “Chao,” “Nos vemos” – there’s simply no easy way to say it. But for me “goodbye“ just doesn’t exist; it has to be “take care” and “see you later.”

We’ve all heard of the reverse culture shock that usually happens to those who return to their homelands or perhaps journey on to yet another new destination, but what happens during the time drawing near – the time when you haven’t actually left yet?

As a volunteer, I don’t think you can help but put your whole heart and soul into your every experience, and yet with that comes a small burden to bear – the emotional tear of having to move on often knowing that you might not have had the time to achieve all that you’d wanted to, for no lack of will, nor fault, of anyone.

How too, bid farewell to new families and friends, to the smiles of those who greet you and the warmth of spirit so apparent where service and generosity have no sum attached to them.

My time here is one I would not change for anything, and I feel like one of the luckiest people in the world to have had this experience. However, guilt is something I do struggle a little with – guilt for all the ideas I’ve had and haven’t had long enough to implement; guilt for having to go when there’s so much yet to be done; guilt for making all too brief an appearance in the lives of my students. I didn’t want to be another who just came and is now gone.

Yet there’s an expression I once read on a sympathy card and that has stayed with me ever since: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

And that’s what I intend to do. Because at some point, this time inevitably comes and for volunteers I think it’s perhaps a necessity to regroup and recharge so that you’re ready for the next round.

I remind myself of what I did achieve; how technology (even with some limitations) makes it so easy to keep in contact; and how I may not have got through all that I’d hoped to but that perhaps the next person will pick up where I left off, or the one after, or the one after that one…. That’s not a failure on the part of any one of us – it’s progress.

And of my students, I always said that if I could inspire just one then every moment of my time here has been worth it.  As I thought of this again a few days ago and observed at least eight in a class of 30 so intently focused, I felt sure that just maybe there’s been even more than one.

Tears will be shed, of that I have no doubt but, beneath the waterfall will be a smile and heartfelt gratitude for the everlasting moments. I will feel proud of what has been achieved and be confident in my tenacity to continue in some way from afar. Lastly, I’ll neither bid “goodbye“ nor “farewell“ but a definite “hasta luego” and a “prometo” to return.

Amanda Patterson recently wrapped up a stint teaching English and public speaking as a volunteer with Corporation for the Development of Learning (CDA) in Santiago, Chile. She is currently traveling, but will be heading soon to Guatemala for her next adventure.

I remember watching those commercials growing up and learning about sexual harassment. The legal definition of sexual harassment is unwelcome verbal, visual, or physical conduct of a sexual nature that is severe or pervasive and affects working conditions or creates a hostile work environment. I don’t think that those educational commercials and the campaign in general ever made it to the Dominican Republic…or at least not to the average man on the streets.

My work here has caused me to walk around the city a lot. As other American female volunteers can testify, walking along the streets of Puerto Plata is similar to a cat walking through a pack of dogs. Men constantly utter a whistle-like “Ppsstt” through their teeth, which is common. Like the townspeople in the story of the boy who cried wolf, you eventually become unaware when someone may be trying to gain your attention for a legitimate reason. You learn to block everything out and keep walking. If a man offers you his hand as you pass by and you give him yours, thinking he wants to greet you with a friendly high five or a handshake, he may hold onto your hand as you continue to pass. And then you feel violated.

A few days before I gave birth

Undergoing this harassment reached an all time high during 2009 while I was pregnant; I had no leave from my responsibilities of overseeing Project Esperanza programs, and we still had no vehicle. Men would yell comments such as, “Hey, let’s raise that baby together!” or “That’s my baby!” Others smiled and stared excessively while doing the usual calls. This was not an issue when my husband went with me but he did not always do so. It was difficult to bear and I had no choice but to suck it up and keep walking. If I attempted to yell something back in order to defend myself, it only seemed to excite them more. I became an angry, very pregnant, white woman walking down the street which was apparently very entertaining. I really had to bite my tongue and just keep walking. The only appropriate response I felt I could give while maintaining a little dignity would be to simply hold up the middle finger for a few seconds while passing without turning my head to look or show any other signs of agitation. However, I resisted the temptation to do this in an attempt to love my enemies and completely avoid conflict rather than engage in it.

My parents, who visited around the time I gave birth, saw that things were difficult transportation-wise and would only be more difficult with a baby. They agreed to sell the car I used to drive in the U.S. in order to provide funds for the purchase of a vehicle here. We now travel to the boys’ home and school, grassroots schools, and run errands around town much more easily and with much more dignity. The car creates a barrier from those on the street, although it is not 100% as comments are still made. However, they are much less. My suggestion to foreign women walking around the city or a similar city and facing this harassment is to hold onto your dignity. Try not to be flattered because it encourages the behavior, but try to be patient so you can show that you are mature and their actions are not. As for local women facing sexual harassment… we’ll have to leave that for another post.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.

Avenida Grecia in Santiago, Chile

Fact: You don’t need Spanish to survive the Chilean jungle, necesitas Chilean! The concoction of unique words and phrases gives the language its flair;  the sheer speed with which it’s spoken can make it seem like another language for a beginner.

Fiction: Damage sustained by many inner Santiago buildings during the earthquake is superficial only. But if that’s really the case, then why do those who work in the buildings suggest it’s better that you use the stairs?

Fact: The smog is real. Starting from the outskirts of the city, Santiago lies obscured by a smothering blanket of gray. Everyday.

Fiction: A commune is usually associated with religious sects, co-ops and more. While true, a commune in Chile is likewise the name given to the smallest administrative regions.

Fact: Lunch is sacrosanct and the focus of the business day. Whatever you do, don’t miss it or even for a moment suggest that you might.

Fiction: Volunteers are wealthy. Most are more heart and soul than large bank accounts, scrimping and saving wherever they can just to follow, and fight, for what they believe in.

Fact: Chileans do like to dance. The social occasions I’ve made it to have been full of chatty conversation, food and more food, fabulous music, and shaking your groove thing.

Fiction: Banks are a safe bet if you need to exchange some cash. In truth, most banks seem to require a permanent residence and a personal account so the foreign currency exchange is a much better option.

Fact: Every night’s a late night when it comes to shopping – a bit different from back home in New Zealand where late night for stores means 9 p.m. twice a week.

Fiction: The bell sounding means it’s time to start class. More often than not this seems to be regarded as a suggestion to “Finish what you’re doing and when you’re ready, we’ll think about starting”

Fact: When you follow the subway signs saying combinación, you can travel the whole of Santiago swapping metro lines several times for just a single swipe of the bip! card.

Fiction: Only so many people can fit inside a metro at once. Wrong!  There’s no such thing as a full metro; you can always cram more in.

Fact: If you jump on the Ruta Rojo during peak times but your stop lies on Ruta Verde, you’ll probably wonder why your destination goes flying past you.

Fiction: Red lights mean stop. Or more realistically, “Stop only if something is coming.”

Fact: Chilean charm abounds. The idiosyncrasies give the country charisma; the oddities, a sense of humor.  And nearly everywhere you’ll find a warm and generous spirit – with just the right amount of cheek.

Amanda Patterson is currently teaching English and public speaking as a volunteer with Corporation for the Development of Learning (CDA) in Santiago, Chile.