And in the end . . .

My wife picked me up at the Portland Airport after approximately 24 hours of flying in the air and sleeping on the floor in strange airports. As we drove home, happy to finally be together again, we decided we were both hungry and in the mood for something . . . healthy. Not a burger, or ten dollars worth of french fries. Something clean tasting and delicious. I immediately thought of the many juice stands in Peru, where a dollar or less can get you a tall glass full of fresh squeezed orange juice, or papaya with pineapple if you're in the mood. Unfortunately the signs on the freeway continued to point us towards Wendy's, Carl's Jr., and McDonalds, not a juice stand in sight.

I guess you really don't appreciate what you have until it's gone.

Of course, a fresh squeezed glass of juice for only 30 cents also represents a great injustice, and in many ways the imbalance that exists in our world. A woman once sold me a glass of cebada for 15 cents. It was so delicious that I paid her quadruple, a whopping 60 cents. Her eyes lit up and she immediately rejected my offer, insisting that she couldn't possibly accept so much money. I explained that it was a tip, and with gratitude in her heart she finally accepted. Who would have guessed that 45 cents could literally make someone's day, and maybe even their week.

The more I learned and observed in Peru the more I realized that we shouldn't feel sorry for people just because they're poor. I watched kids play in the dirt with homemade toys. They smiled and laughed and genuinely enjoyed themselves, even without plastic army men or toys that light up and talk.

We don't necessarily need to get upset about the fact that some people can't afford the new Nike running shoes, or a trip to the Bahamas. The thing that we should really be upset about, and be working constantly to overcome, is that fact that some people can't afford even the most basic education and health care. I worked with kids who had big dreams for their future, but at just 15 years old (or younger) they were forced to leave school to find a job.

Reflejando . . .

I was originally presented with the choice of working in Lima, the capital of Peru and home to over 9 million people, or Chiclayo, a town that I had literally never heard of. I decided right away on Chiclayo for a hodge-podge of reasons. I think I was under the impression that going to a smaller, more out of the way city would give me a chance to get to know the "real" Peru. This of course was a ridiculous assumption since there's really no such thing as a "real Peru. Peru, like any other country really, is full of a wide range of realities, none more authentic or true than the other.

What is life like in Oregon, for example? That would depend on if we're talking about the dairy farmer in Woodburn, the banker in downtown Portland, or the transient (or law student) in Eugene. Each represents in their own special way what Oregon is about.

I've spent the last 24 hours in Lima, and the one thing that I've enjoyed is not standing out. In Chiclayo people stared, mostly because of my height and giant shoes. On Monday I went and did some house visits in the rural areas of Chiclayo. At one point a young boy came out of his adobe home, looked up at me and said to himself in disbelief, "¿Tan grande?" as if to say, "people come in that size?!"

But in Lima I'm just another guy. There are enough tourists and caucasian Peruvians to blend in and go unnoticed, which is nice.

I'm currently sitting in the airport, waiting to make the last leg of my trip here in Peru. I'm headed to Cusco where I will learn a bit about what Nexos does there, and get to see Machu Picchu. I've got the full range of emotions brewing. I'm excited for Cusco, but more than anxious to get home to my wife and family. At the same time part of me is sad about leaving Chiclayo and the people I met there. In review, that's excited, anxious, and sad.

I'm about to board, I'll post more tonight.