Don't Cry Because it's Over, Smile Because it Happened

Some of my youngest students
(Other class pics to follow)

Today was my last day of teaching at L&B Language School. I cannot believe how quickly time has flown by. I feel like just yesterday I was struggling to learn everyone's name. Now, they've become the best part of my day. My heart broke a little each time I watched one of my students walk out of my classroom door today, knowing that I'll never see them again. Never hear them call me "meeeess" or whine "nooo teeeach-er" when I assign them homework. I'll miss the respectful way that even the adults would ask before entering or leaving the classroom and would greet me warmly each and every day that I saw them. I'll miss my "tween" class and their adorable antics; my sweet little children and their slobbery kisses on the cheek as they recite a line from one of our poems (bye, goodbye see you soon!) on their way out the door everyday. I'll miss my crazy Petro Peru class with all of their love confessions; My basic class with all of it's charm. My 6:15 and the way they'd have me repeat words over and over again because they wanted to perfect their pronunciation. Their passion for learning was so inspiring.

My Petro Peru Class - Always full of laughter!

One of the students in that class began to cry when she left today, embracing me and kissing my cheek repeatedly. She looked me square in the eye and said, "You're my daughter". Incredible. Just incredible the way lives connect and intertwine in ways that cannot be expressed in words.

Yesterday they threw parties for me, complete with cake, ice cream, empanadas, snacks and gifts. They told me how thankful they are to have had me here, but the truth is, I'm incredibly fortunate to have been here and to have had the opportunity to be a part of all of these amazing people's lives, if only for a moment.

My sweet 6:15 class at the party they threw for me

To My Students: Over the past 4 months, I have been privileged to get to know all of you. You’ve inspired me, brightened my days, and made my job truly enjoyable. I want to thank each and every one of you for giving me the opportunity to work with you and for welcoming me to your beautiful country. I wish you the best of luck with your English studies and in all of your future endeavors. Keep in touch and God bless. ♥

The Ride of Death

Never. Again.

"Let's go on the Tagada."

An innocent sentence mumbled by my friend at the local fair in Talara. It looked harmless enough. Although I didn't see it in motion, it looked like a simple ride that spun in a circle. Being the adventurous chica that I am, I thought nothing of it. I've been on much crazier rides in theme parks across North America. As we boarded, I noticed that there weren't any sealtbelts, handles or restraints. Odd, but oh well. "Hold on tight!" my friends told me. I thought they were being a little overly cautious for such an easy ride, but I went with it. Then the Tagada began to spin. Cool. Then it began to bounce. Alright. Then, the bloody thing tried to kill me! Or more specifically, the moronic ride operators who control each movement tried to kill me! It whirled, twirled, jerked, tilted and bumped, conspiring to break my bones with each bump. "Make it STOP!" I begged, feeling my body bruise and swell with each bump. "Let me OFFFFF!" I screamed as my poor body repeatedly slammed into the metal seat. Sure Jessica, scream in English at the Latino ride operators. Smart. That's really going to do something. Well, actually it did. It alerted them to my gringa status, making me their new favourite target. Having already sent my dear Nathaly and my flip flops sliding down the ride they made it their mission to send me flying.  Well I'll show them, I thought. Despite feeling like my arms were going to be yanked out of their sockets, I hung on for dear life. Finally, when they saw that I wasn't letting go anytime soon and that I desperately wanted to get off the ride, they stopped it. Battered and bruised, I vowed never to step foot on that death machine again. Click here to get an idea of the craziness that is the Tagada!

I've Fallen in Love... With Surfing




Intricate adobe bricks in Chan Chan

This past week was test week for my students which meant a four day work week for me. I took the opportunity to meet my Dad in Trujillo, a city roughly 9 hours from Talara by bus. Being my first solo bus ride, I was a little weary taking an overnight bus. I've heard rumours of robbers piling rocks in the middle of the road, forcing the driver to stop. The robbers then board the bus and rob and sometimes attack the passengers. With this delightful story playing on repeat in the back of my mind, I had a hard time falling asleep. Imagine my fear when at roughly 3am, while all of the other passengers were blissfully asleep, the bus pulled over in the middle of the desert and stopped. My imagination ran wild on me and I started planning out a pepper spray attack strategy. Thankfully, it appeared to be nothing more than a pee break for our driver, but I still didn't manage to get too much shut eye before we rolled into the Trujillo bus terminal in the wee hours of the morning. The hostel that my Dad and I had planned to meet at was closed (I had no idea that hostels close!!) so I asked the taxi driver to take me to the plaza de armas (the main square) where I waited and walked around for a few hours until my Dad arrived. It was interesting to watch the city wake up, something I'm usually not awake early enough to see!



Our newfound loves. Nice shoes, Dad!



It was wonderful to see my Dad again. He had so many exciting stories to share about his time in the jungle. We spent a lot of time discussing how quickly time had flown by and our mixed feelings about returning to "the real world", as this weekend marked the halfway point of my trip and the second last week of his. After an evening of meandering through the streets of Trujillo, we decided to visit the Moche/Chimu civilization of Chan Chan the next day. It's the largest mud city in the world and was actually quite impressive. Following a morning of "ruin hopping", we decided to travel to a neighbouring beach town called Huanchaco. This tiny surfing town is home to the famous caballitos de totora, or traditional reed fishing boats that have been used for over a thousand years. Huanchaco was clean, modern and charming and I found myself wishing we had more time to spend there. 



Gorgeous sunset in Huanchaco
framed by the reed fishing boats

My Dad and I had been tossing around the idea of trying surfing from the time he first arrived in Lima. Seeing as we were in a surf town with an abundance of surf schools, we decided to seize the opportunity and give it a whirl. I doubted I'd be able to stand on the board and pictured gag-reel worthy wipe outs on my part, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that I could indeed stand and even ride the waves with a little help from the teacher. We spent most of the day out on the water, freezing despite our wetsuits, but unwilling to abandon our newfound love. Eventually when we could no longer feel our body, we enjoyed a delicious ceviche (the national dish of Peru) and chaufa (Peruvian-Chinese food) dinner with local Trujillo beer. And, as if an amazing day of surfing and delicious food wasn't enough, we stumbled across an organic chocolate cafe! Truly a match made in heaven! After a glorious weekend, we hopped aboard a bus bound for Talara. The clock has begun to tick. I only have one more month with my wonderful students and amazing Peruvian family. Where is time going?!