Interesting day today. I decided when I woke up, I would go into Chosica and get the ingredients to make my family Texas chili. I had given them a packet of Texas chili mix that my mom's work colleagues gave me as a going away present. It was my first time to go into town by myself, and it went really well. I listened to a sermon from Experience Life church in Lubbock while I rode the combi to Plaza Vea. Plaza Vea is kinda like a Super Walmart. Ironically, I boycotted Walmart in the States, but this store is really comforting to me in Peru.
I'm not a fan of the open air markets with raw chicken that just sits out with all the flies and dogs until someone buys it. At the moment, I feel good about shopping somewhere that looks familiar and has a refrigerated meat section. It is gonna take some time for me to find a local market that I trust. I walked around the store and looked at everything. It felt good to see a store organized like it would be in the States – on larges shelving units, with a least ten varieties of each item, free to be touched and picked up by anyone. I amused by the smallest references to American culture. For example, right now I'm jamming out to the Backstreet Boys, “As Long As You Love Me”. Oh yeah.
I got home and shared some Oreo cookies with my host family while I spent a couple of hours cooking the chili. Everyone in my family gathered 'round to enjoy a Texas tradition. I explained that chili is the official meal of Texas, dating back to the 1800s when cowboys would cook on the back of the chuckwagon. (Thanks to the people who put together such an informative packet of chili.) I diced some onion and red bell pepper for the top, and shredded some cheese I hoped would taste alright with the spices. My family apparently doesn't have bowls? This confuses me, and I'm not sure why people who do cook soup don't have bowls. Puzzled, I just kept describing bowls to my host mom, forcing her to repeat that she doesn't have any. She pointed to the plates and said we could serve a bit at a time. I'm not sure why not having bowls was such a big deal to me, but I looked all through the kitchen for something that would work better. How could you eat a delicacy like chili from a plate? I finally resolved to suggest we eat from coffee cups, and my host mom turned to me with a dumbfounded look, conveying her question without a need for words: “have you no class?” If she had any doubts, I confirmed that I in fact did not when I showed them how to pile and mix the food. I swear, when I took the crackers and crumbled them on top, everyone in my family gasped together. But they ate the meat soup with some coca-cola, and told me it was very good.
After the chili, I walked over to give a bowl with, Gordito (Joshua), a fellow volunteer down the street. On the way back, I was walking by a big dog and it attacked me. I was right beside it when it turned and bit me on the arm and on my butt before I could do anything about it. It was a vicious attack, not a “yum, you smell like ground beef” attack. Of course, my instinct was to scream for help in English, which didn't help me. I went back to my house crying and addressed the small wounds. The dog tore through my pants and undies, which my host mom offered to repair.
My host mom and sisters went back down the street with me so we could tell the owners and make sure the dog doesn't have rabies. My host mom told the family that they needed to keep their dog put away, because it could have destroyed a kid. In a weird way, I was glad that it happened to me because I think my family and teachers thought I was just being paranoid about the dogs in the streets. I'm scared of them. I was jogging one morning when two dogs started to attack me. Thankfully two men were there to call them back. And there is a group of dogs in my town that like to gather in a pack the bark at people walking alone. So I walk with stones in my hands. Last week, one of my tech trainers bicycled past me and laughed at me for walking with rocks in my hand. It's silly, but I guess it's necessary.
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