“So do you have friends yet? How many do you have so far?” These are common questions my family and friends ask when I get in touch with them. I simply laugh and respond: “Not really. I just have Ma Lu and one of the English professors as the people I go out with or confide in.” I would normally feel sad about not having “many” friends but the process of meeting new people in Peru has reminded me of the natural flow of human interaction that does not have a deadline of when people must become friends.
During the past few weeks I have been spending a lot of time at the “Centro de idiomas” or Center for Languages. I’ve gotten to know the secretary there quite well, she’s even shared her chocolate with me! Josefa, the secretary, cracks me up. She is on a mission to find me a boyfriend so she constantly asks about my weekends or if I have any “enamorados” (lover I guess would be an appropriate translation). I’ve also gotten to know a few of the other professors who teach at the center. I’m usually asked about my stay in Peru (“What are you doing here?” or “How long are you going to be here?”) and sometimes about my personal life (“Are you married/do you have kids?” or “Where are you from?”). I feel comfortable answering these questions with concise words that do not give away too many details about my life.
The reason I don’t overshare is because we were warned at our orientation in Lima that the small towns we would be living in would quickly engage in any gossip. Even Puneños have told me to be careful around the city. Though I do not mind answering follow up questions when I have chats with people, I feel that I have been extra cautious with what I say and do when I’m out. For the first time in my life I feel censored. What I’m mostly struggling with is figuring out what is appropriate behavior, in my case, with my future colleagues. I have been told that being alone with a man is not a good idea, I should never consider that. But I ask myself, is it really bad to have a work lunch or coffee? Ay, ay, ay. I do respect the norms of my new community, but I also have to be fair to myself.
What has been the most interesting thus far is how the men have been overtly nice to me at the center. I have gotten the “Hi, Mexican girl,” “Hi, beautiful,” or “Hey princess.” The feminist in me yells inside and wants to explain to my future male colleagues how inappropriate their comments are. I simply respond with “My name is Melissa, I would appreciate it if you can call me that.” Most of them have gotten the hint and have kept their greetings and comments to a more respectful tone. The dichotomy of the actual behavior of some people and how I’m suppose to behave makes me laugh a bit (comic relief for my struggle I think).
I haven’t let the warnings bring my spirit down. I always try to learn more about the other people I interact with. For instance, the two sisters who exchange my money are very sweet. They both ask about my adjustment and offer any advice that may seem pertinent. There is also a lady who has a candy/drinks stand outside my apartment building, she’s learned what my favorite chocolate is and hands it over to me. There is also the server from the restaurant I go to frequently for lunch who knows that I always want soup with my order. Now that I stop and think about it, I didn’t have many of these types of relationships back home in southern California.It feels nice to know that I have these relationships.
While at times I do feel lonely in Puno and seek refuge in the internet or TV, I do realize that the process of meeting people will pick up speed, especially when I start teaching (which will happen in April). I think meeting students will be an adventure of its own. In the meantime, I am going to go on more random walks around the city and put myself out there. At the end of the day, I do like to talk a lot and I do have a decent head on my shoulders, so I am sure that I will be making more friendships.
Breathing New Air 