I have a couple days off next week, so I'll try and provide a little more personal information about work here at the orphanage in Ayacucho.
Another volunteer has provided some pretty extensive info (as well as photos) of the neighborhood Carmen Alto (Vista Alegre) and work at the Casa Hogar.
http://www.travelblog.org/South-America/Peru/Ayacucho/blog-211538.html
If you select "Next Entry" you can reach the volunteer's subsequent entries.
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75F and sunny in Ayacucho...what a December!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Arribas y Abajos
I had been communicating for about a week now with one of the photo editors from TIME when on Dec 8th, I logged into my email and viewed the tremendous news that one of my recently-posted Flickr photos made the magazine! Click here for more info on the photo. Apparently it's for a "Flickr Tribute to Michael Jackson" photo spread. I won't believe it completely until I see the copy with my own eyes. The issue is due out Dec 14. I have no idea of the size or how much info will be provided, but I'll be happy to see a thumbnail tucked somewhere between the Gap Xmas advertisement and the Letters section.
Serendipity gets the better part of the credit for this shot. As one of the International Thriller Day participants, I was nowhere near my camera at the time. My friend Emily had set it on a nearby table and hit the shutter release to start a video recording. A month later, as I was looking through Africa photos, I saw that my camera had automatically created a screenshot of the clip. After a little playing with Lightroom, it turned out to be a pretty cool looking capture(albeit low-res), so I posted it with everything else. Go figure, out of a video with over 1000 frames, the one that my camera grabs for a screenshot makes it into TIME. The Lumix is smarter than I thought. Hope somebody's enjoying it...
The following day, I went with the two other American volunteers at La Casa Hogar to a festival in Quinua, about an hour away from Ayacucho. Because the three of us worked in the morning, we missed the re-enactment of the Battle of Ayacucho (a definitive battle between Peruvians and the Spanish in the fight for independence). Even for just two hours, we took in our share of some spectacular mountain views and old Spanish architechture. The golden daylight hours hit a short time before we were to leave, so I sprinted around with my camera, still riding the high of the news I had received the day before. The one thing I don't really like about the Lumix is that it doesn't have quite the throw necessary for those candid snapshots of people just living their lives. An old woman perched on a doorstep, traditionally dressed in a purple wool sweater and bombin hat, refused my request to take her photo. Regardless, it was a productive afternoon. One of the pueblo's main pedestrian walkways inclines steeply, requiring multiple flights of stairs. The slope is so great that I was able to catch some close-ups of the undulating edges of the spanish tile roofs along with a backdrop sky as big as any I had seen in Africa. Anxious to start looking back on the day, I threw the camera quickly into my bag, rejoined Mal and Emily, and headed past the artisanal market crowds for the buses to Ayacucho. As soon as we hopped into an empty one I slung my bag around and noticed the zipper open, the camera gone.
I was devastated and completely disappointed with myself for not being more aware. We didn't see another white person our entire time in Quinua, so I let my guard down thinking we were far away from the petty theft found in more touristed corners of the country. The bus ride home was a miserable attempt to make sense of what had just happened. More than anything I wanted to give the Casa Hogar some memorable photos, both for the kids and for web advertisement. That opportunity was immediately stripped from me by some opportunistic kid. Trying to remain positive, I reasoned the event into some cosmic trade-off I had previously made: choose between two months in Peru and no camera or a sedentary 2 months at home with it. Optimism was hard to come by as I slid down the mountainside with the rest of our over-capacity van, cold rainwater leaking through the window and onto my head.
Serendipity gets the better part of the credit for this shot. As one of the International Thriller Day participants, I was nowhere near my camera at the time. My friend Emily had set it on a nearby table and hit the shutter release to start a video recording. A month later, as I was looking through Africa photos, I saw that my camera had automatically created a screenshot of the clip. After a little playing with Lightroom, it turned out to be a pretty cool looking capture(albeit low-res), so I posted it with everything else. Go figure, out of a video with over 1000 frames, the one that my camera grabs for a screenshot makes it into TIME. The Lumix is smarter than I thought. Hope somebody's enjoying it...
The following day, I went with the two other American volunteers at La Casa Hogar to a festival in Quinua, about an hour away from Ayacucho. Because the three of us worked in the morning, we missed the re-enactment of the Battle of Ayacucho (a definitive battle between Peruvians and the Spanish in the fight for independence). Even for just two hours, we took in our share of some spectacular mountain views and old Spanish architechture. The golden daylight hours hit a short time before we were to leave, so I sprinted around with my camera, still riding the high of the news I had received the day before. The one thing I don't really like about the Lumix is that it doesn't have quite the throw necessary for those candid snapshots of people just living their lives. An old woman perched on a doorstep, traditionally dressed in a purple wool sweater and bombin hat, refused my request to take her photo. Regardless, it was a productive afternoon. One of the pueblo's main pedestrian walkways inclines steeply, requiring multiple flights of stairs. The slope is so great that I was able to catch some close-ups of the undulating edges of the spanish tile roofs along with a backdrop sky as big as any I had seen in Africa. Anxious to start looking back on the day, I threw the camera quickly into my bag, rejoined Mal and Emily, and headed past the artisanal market crowds for the buses to Ayacucho. As soon as we hopped into an empty one I slung my bag around and noticed the zipper open, the camera gone.
I was devastated and completely disappointed with myself for not being more aware. We didn't see another white person our entire time in Quinua, so I let my guard down thinking we were far away from the petty theft found in more touristed corners of the country. The bus ride home was a miserable attempt to make sense of what had just happened. More than anything I wanted to give the Casa Hogar some memorable photos, both for the kids and for web advertisement. That opportunity was immediately stripped from me by some opportunistic kid. Trying to remain positive, I reasoned the event into some cosmic trade-off I had previously made: choose between two months in Peru and no camera or a sedentary 2 months at home with it. Optimism was hard to come by as I slid down the mountainside with the rest of our over-capacity van, cold rainwater leaking through the window and onto my head.
Friday, December 4, 2009
4th Continent
The whirlwind month at home is spitting me into another corner of the globe, a one-way ticket and an open-ended commitment while PC re-enrollment lumbers along.
Call yesterday a caffeine kick. Around 10 a.m. I plopped into the driver's seat to head for the barber. Before I even let off the brake 2009 hit me like an accident. Four continents! Acapulco beach ultimate on the coldest midwestern week of the year, waterlogged in an Irish January, impromptu snowboard customization in CO (sorry Frank), Tahoe play, coasting on the wind over a San Diego bluff, there and Backfrica (so well put by Jake), and now...
Painful reminders of Guinea more than linger. Even as I type, news of a Dadis assassination attempt creep through the 56k modem in my parents' basement. The scabs from evacuation are still fresh. During our fairwell ceremony Ousmane, the Guinea training coordinator, gave the most heartbreaking speech I have ever witnessed. "Come back. Please come back. We need you. Now more than ever." Such trenchant emotion does not fade easily, and I know these words echo in more hearts than just my own. All 94 of us...it kills us.
Ayacucho's history offers me some optimism for Guinea. Just a decade ago it was the epicenter of a guerilla war. Now an orphanage is stretching to fit its volunteer demand. I know much of that has to do with Peru's obvious offerings: towering Andes, history's exposed bands, the mystical Macchu Picchu. Still, it's an example of hope rebounded.
The last several weeks have been spectacular. Thank you to those who helped me indulge in some of the pleasures I was only dreaming of a couple months ago. I know it's a far from complete list, but:
Owed Thank Yous:
- Bec, for sharing your time w/ me in the City, for your sweet apartment location (that was seriously the first time I ever was able to run on the River or the Lake), for reminding me that dreams are not something to be compromised, and for cider.
- Tina, for Green Goddess and MAC&CHEESE!!!! Also, for welcoming me into your home so I may continue the Rummikub domination...up 3 games and not looking back! They say one's ears ring when someone's talking about him; so when I crack my head on the corner of a cabinet I'll know you're reading this. Fired up for February yet?
- Lilly folks, for reminding me how much Indy still feels like home, even with a hippie bus
- Sloan, for your ever-warm hospitality and friendship (and to Oliver for tolertaing my insistence on transforming his name into a french verb)
- Indy Ulty, for great mussels, some crazy conjured-up memories, and some crazier cop stories
- Hoglunds, for your wonderful hospitality and contagious spirit
- Vince, love friends, love fam, love life: you make it look so easy, keep it up
- cheese, oh how I missed you
- Michelle & Al, for coming out and being cousins :)
- Britta & Suji, for (c)hugs(4jugs) that will never dip in intensity
- Henkes and Grandma, I can still taste the dinners (and Ross's cheesecake)
- Chad, for bending over backwards for your friends, even when they're 5000 mi away
- Grandma & Grandpa Sova, for your bursting hearts and curiosities
- Aunt Karen, for helping me feel like I'm home, even when I was away
- Joanna, for helping me align my own disjointed sentiments long enough to start reflecting on the past summer, and for your unyielding courage
- For all your calls, emails, and visits, and your forgiveness if I forgot you (it's 03:30 after all)
and finally to Mom & Dad, for your overwhelming generosity, and your patient support of my restlessness. I know my dreams are often your sacrifice.
Keep in touch,
Kevin
Call yesterday a caffeine kick. Around 10 a.m. I plopped into the driver's seat to head for the barber. Before I even let off the brake 2009 hit me like an accident. Four continents! Acapulco beach ultimate on the coldest midwestern week of the year, waterlogged in an Irish January, impromptu snowboard customization in CO (sorry Frank), Tahoe play, coasting on the wind over a San Diego bluff, there and Backfrica (so well put by Jake), and now...
Painful reminders of Guinea more than linger. Even as I type, news of a Dadis assassination attempt creep through the 56k modem in my parents' basement. The scabs from evacuation are still fresh. During our fairwell ceremony Ousmane, the Guinea training coordinator, gave the most heartbreaking speech I have ever witnessed. "Come back. Please come back. We need you. Now more than ever." Such trenchant emotion does not fade easily, and I know these words echo in more hearts than just my own. All 94 of us...it kills us.
Ayacucho's history offers me some optimism for Guinea. Just a decade ago it was the epicenter of a guerilla war. Now an orphanage is stretching to fit its volunteer demand. I know much of that has to do with Peru's obvious offerings: towering Andes, history's exposed bands, the mystical Macchu Picchu. Still, it's an example of hope rebounded.
The last several weeks have been spectacular. Thank you to those who helped me indulge in some of the pleasures I was only dreaming of a couple months ago. I know it's a far from complete list, but:
Owed Thank Yous:
- Bec, for sharing your time w/ me in the City, for your sweet apartment location (that was seriously the first time I ever was able to run on the River or the Lake), for reminding me that dreams are not something to be compromised, and for cider.
- Tina, for Green Goddess and MAC&CHEESE!!!! Also, for welcoming me into your home so I may continue the Rummikub domination...up 3 games and not looking back! They say one's ears ring when someone's talking about him; so when I crack my head on the corner of a cabinet I'll know you're reading this. Fired up for February yet?
- Lilly folks, for reminding me how much Indy still feels like home, even with a hippie bus
- Sloan, for your ever-warm hospitality and friendship (and to Oliver for tolertaing my insistence on transforming his name into a french verb)
- Indy Ulty, for great mussels, some crazy conjured-up memories, and some crazier cop stories
- Hoglunds, for your wonderful hospitality and contagious spirit
- Vince, love friends, love fam, love life: you make it look so easy, keep it up
- cheese, oh how I missed you
- Michelle & Al, for coming out and being cousins :)
- Britta & Suji, for (c)hugs(4jugs) that will never dip in intensity
- Henkes and Grandma, I can still taste the dinners (and Ross's cheesecake)
- Chad, for bending over backwards for your friends, even when they're 5000 mi away
- Grandma & Grandpa Sova, for your bursting hearts and curiosities
- Aunt Karen, for helping me feel like I'm home, even when I was away
- Joanna, for helping me align my own disjointed sentiments long enough to start reflecting on the past summer, and for your unyielding courage
- For all your calls, emails, and visits, and your forgiveness if I forgot you (it's 03:30 after all)
and finally to Mom & Dad, for your overwhelming generosity, and your patient support of my restlessness. I know my dreams are often your sacrifice.
Keep in touch,
Kevin
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