At eight years old, most girls are playing with barbies, learning to ride bikes, or playing with their easy bake ovens. I'll admit, I did those things too. However, one of the things I best remember from my childhood is a camp that I attended. It was based on the Amazon Rainforest, and I learned about the layers of the forest, the plants, animals, and some of the natural medicines that could be found.
Ever since this camp, I've longed for the day when I could experience the Amazon face to face. Now, more than a decade later, my dream was realized. The group flew out around five in the morning, more bags under our eyes than in our hands, and yawns half covered when we wanted to avoid being mistaken for farm animals. I was thrilled to find a pretzel vendor inside the airport!! Soft pretzels are one of my favorite foods, and it had been around three months since I had last been able to enjoy one. The soft, cheesy pretzel was the closest thing to heaven I'll ever experience. Peruvian airport security is *slightly* different from American, as you can walk through with a full cup of coffee no problem. This was good news, because after my Parmesan pretzel I started to regret my decision to eat something that would cover me in white powder immediately before going through security. Two girls stopped to grab coffee, and their line took so long that they were barely able to make our flight!! Panicking, they ran up to the airline bus just as it was starting to drive off! Not sure if I was half asleep or going crazy or what the deal is, but I have a vague memory of repeating peach over and over again when asked for my drink order and then something about drinking the whole cup of juice in one shot. I lose control of all senses it seems when I am tired. Our airplane arrived in Iquitos without further incident, and once the other girls arrived we embarked on an adventure I'll never forget. We took an hour and a half drive through the countryside, to arrive at a small port. We sat in a little boat, oblivious to the fact that our next six hours would be spent in there. I was rather uncomfortable, due to someone half laying on my lap while in a hammock, but the hours passed one way or another. We arrived at the beautiful lodge and were able to enjoy fish and rice before taking a relaxing tour of the village. The following morning we went to a couple of small villages and saw some things I'd never thought I would see. At one of the villages, there was a little boy cutting grass with a machete!! It wasn't really a surprise, just kind of different that such a young boy would be given a weapon as a toy. We got the chance to hold a little monkey, and we saw a demonstration of how to climb a tree. This year is a particularly wet year for this area- due to flooding many houses were covered with water. That night I saw one of the most creative navigation systems I've ever seen- One man stood at the front of the boat with a flashlight, yelling left or right to the man who was driving. As a result of this...interesting...method of navigation, we crashed into things a time or two. One of the most memorable times involved knocking an entire branch FULL of fire ants into the boat. The girls who were bitten were none to happy about the experience. The next day we were able to go on a canoe ride in the beautiful river. The Amazon has to be the most beautiful place I've ever seen! Karina and I opted to go for a hike, and the two of us plus two Peruvian tour guides made the journey through the forest. We saw termite colonies and monkeys swinging from tree to tree. The guys tried to convince me there is a monster that lives in the Amazon and only eats white people. The hike was the best part of that whole experience, and I think those who didn't go really missed out. After the boat ride back, we learned the flooding had caused parts of the road to collapse. At first we were told this meant we would need to walk all the way back. Seeing as I packed light, I was fine with this option but those who brought suitcases politely said they would rather roll around in a pile of fire ants for the rest of eternity than to walk further than absolutely necessary. Fortunately we were able to get most of the way in a van, then walk a short distance through the valleys left by the flood, and then wait for our friend to come pick us up. The volunteer shelter we are at here in Iquitos seems like the Ritz Carlton right now. It has electricity, wifi... all a girl could ever wish for! Right after arriving we went to the town square and enjoyed some ice cream. When I say enjoyed I mean everyone else was hogging the menu for so long that I panicked when it was time to order, pointed at the first thing I saw, and ended up with Lucema ice cream. Ever since an unfortunate vomit experience, I've personally treated Lucema the way people with taurophobia treat cows. That is- I steer far far away from it. Yesterday we got to go to a place called Monkey Island, which was a reserve for a few different kinds of animals. I got to see sloths, monkeys, anacondas, turtles, alligators, and parrots. Then we went to another place that had giant, carnivorous fish. The end.
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One thing I learned this weekend is that there is a huge difference between real life chicken prices and chicken prices in my mind. Traysea and I went to the market so I could buy ingredients to cook chicken and dumplings for my host family. First of all, the chicken pieces were so big I assumed that one piece was two, so I asked for four pieces. I quickly realized I didn't need that much, and panicked, yelling I only needed two. The butcher gave me an odd look, but put two pieces back. Second of all, when it was time to pay, the butcher told me it was $8.50. I had brought $1.66, thinking that that should be more than enough to buy chicken for six people. "Its, HOW MUCH???" I asked, incredulously. I had to ask 3 or 4 times because I didn't believe my ears. Since the butcher had already wrapped the chicken for me, I just asked Traysea for money. When I told my real mom about the experience later she was confused about why I would think meat is less expensive than a candy bar. Today Anna and I made chicken and dumplings for my family, and it turns out we had way more chicken than I realized. There was so much chicken I couldn't even fit half of it in the pot. When the food was ready, we had more chicken than dumplings, which is unheard of in the south. I must admit that was partially my fault for eating half of the raw dough. When the food was ready, my host family thought it was a little bland so they put lime juice on it. Seemed like an odd way to season chicken and dumplings, but definitely made it more Peruvian. My host brother and host dad got seconds, and everyone claimed they enjoyed it.
Also, that night a friend of mine asked how it was going "down south". I said good, and I'd enjoyed some chicken and dumplings. All that was missing was some pecan pie. My shoes STINK. When I say that, I don't just mean they kind of smell bad. I don't just mean that one or two people say something every day. I mean the milk curdling, nose wrinkling kind of stink. The stink that makes me think if I had a dollar for every time someone complained about how badly my feet stank, I'd have enough money to buy myself several pairs of new shoes. However there is a saying among the shoe community that goes something along the lines of, "The more you're worn, the more you stink: The more you're loved, at least, I think". Actually there's no such thing but we can just pretend. I started off the normal process I do every time I need money. Step 1: Ask dad so many questions on Google chat he gets flustered and quits responding. Step 2: Go to the ATM on the off chance my debit card magically healed itself. Step 3: Beg dad to message me back, consider offering to clean my room when I get back, decide its not worth it. Step 4: Finally hear from dad and figure out a temporary solution. The temporary solution this time was wiring money! Genius. Magic computer particles transfer into another magic receptacle and BOOM: there's the money. Or at least that is what I understand about the science behind it. Happy to have this brilliant plan worked out, I headed to the bank, Anna by my side. My hopes and dreams and shattered around me like vases in an antique store. I tried to scramble to stop falling deeper into the depths of my own despair. The cause for my angst? I was informed I needed two forms of ID. TWO FORMS??? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS??? YOU THINK I'M ALLOWED TO DRIVE???? Just kidding my license was stolen but while we're on the subject here's a tangent: my grandma has never ever driven in my lifetime that I can remember, yet she was the one who taught me how to drive. She always told me that the hood ornament in the middle of the car had to line up with the white line on the side. It was only two weeks before leaving the U.S. that I found out not everyone drives that way....my boyfriend had food poisoning and entrusted me to drive his car to pick up food. He rode in the passenger seat and we quickly discovered that due to him not having a hood ornament, I was unable to stay in the lane. Despite his illness, he decided I can never again drive his car, and he completed the journey for our sandwiches. Snap back to the bank fiasco: Ladies try over and over to explain I need two forms of ID, while I repeat that I only have one. Finally, after giving each other looks of exasperation, they informed me that if I had to money wired to a friend *wink wink* who had two forms of ID, they'd be more than happy to hand over the money. That night I relayed the day's events to my host mom. She was shocked by what I told her, certain that I should be able to get my money with one form of ID. She more or less reenacted a scenario in which I would go back to the bank, demand my money in the name of stinky shoes everywhere, and walk out triumphant. In her scenario, she said, "Threaten to talk to their boss!! Peru is a very poor country. There's a good chance they're doing something shady and will be scared into helping you!!" then she said, if that failed I should say, "Ask me anything about the transaction!! I can prove to you I am supposed to have this money!! Ask me my father's birthday, his second last name..." at this point I had to refrain from breaking the news that Americans do not use second last names, and this would have, in fact, made the situation worse. Then, worst of all, she said I should say "There is nothing suspicious going on here!!" which I think would have to be the number one suspicious sentences of all times. My dad always used to tell me I needed to wash my clothes before they walked off on their own. My question now is, self sufficient clothes,: gross or the stuff our future is made of??? money can't buy Happiness/insert other clicheThis morning I woke up, tangled in a cocoon of sheets. My body looked different to me. My thighs were three times the size I remembered and it took effort to pull on shorts over my chunky thighs. I had the sudden realization that the family scale must be off- I had thought I was roughly 110-118 pounds when all this time I had to be at least 40 pounds heavier than that. I felt the world crash around me, thinking that life as I knew it would end. I also was distraught thinking about how safety is one of the reasons (that and being lazy) that I don't jog here. Then I remembered this thing I had once heard of, dieting! I went to my good friend, Google, sure that she would have the answer. She told me to stop eating like its feeding time at the zoo. Seemed simple enough. Normally I eat 5-7 pieces of toast, or 10-12 pancakes, depending on which one my mom makes that day. I never have both on the same day, because if there are pancakes, I will always choose them. Today we had toast, so I limited myself to two pieces. I thought this was a fairly reasonable amount, I've heard legends of people only eating two pieces of toast, so I know it must be true.
After breakfast, I was feeling great about how my diet was going- that is until about an hour later. I normally shovel down as many servings as possible of oreos, gummy worms, skittles, and whatever other snacks I have in my room between breakfast and lunch. This insures, in my logic, that my blood sugar is high enough for me to properly complete my homework. I somehow managed to battle my addiction, although I must admit that no homework was attempted this morning. Nor anything even remotely productive. All I could think about was food, or at least the distant memories I had of it. After what seemed like days rather than hours, I was able to eat lunch. I realize I'm a fast eater-Anna often reminds me of the dangers of overeating, obesity, and shoveling food down my throat so fast that I'll feel sick. I always give her a slight puzzled look, and remind her I was going to eat all that food no matter what speed it goes in at. Whether I enjoy it or not. I turned for Google again, displeased with my morning's amount of struggle. Since I'm expected to eat whatever my host mom prepares, this means my main consumption variable is how quickly I eat my food. By lunch I was starving. However I read online that if you chew your food 35-50 times, it will help you feel fuller faster. Unsure of how much I normally chew, I thought this seemed worth a shot. Lunch consisted of white rice and potatoes, and as I took my first bite I tried to really savor it, and to chew slowly. By chew seven, I was wondering if some people actually did this at every meal, and by chew twenty my food had turned to mush. Why anyone would want to chew on semi liquid food is beyond me, but I found out that taking more than five or six chews is not my forte. My new goal was to chew my food fifteen times before swallowing it, but it took me so long to eat that I vowed to myself never again to take on such a time consuming task. So, why I've learned from my few hours on a diet is its better to be fat and happy than miserable and only think about food. The following picture is from a lunch out with some friends. I finished my food way before everyone else and the waiter brought me a piece of cake. I think he must have thought I hadn't eaten in a week. The other day I came home from school, tired after a long day of Spanish practice. My host mom flung open the door when she heard me outside, grinning from ear to ear. She was the most excited I've ever seen her- and she cried, "Little Rachel! Guess who's here!!" she was so ecstatic that I got my hopes up for a moment that it might be someone from home. A few steps more toward kitchen showed me I was sorely mistaken, it was my host mom's two brothers. A nice surprise I suppose, but not enough to call for quite the level of enthusiasm my mom had. I spent the night playing uno with my host uncle. He's schizophrenic, and after I while I got pretty tired of playing with him. For one thing he would say "She says.." and then whatever I said, under his breath, and for another thing, if I pronounced a word even slightly different than it was supposed to be pronounced- he didn't understand me at all. I spent around 10 minutes going: "Horse. Horse. Horse. Horse. Horse. Horse. Horse. Horse. Horse. The animal that's a medium size that you can ride on. Horse. Horse. Horse. What cowboys ride. Horse. Horse. Horse." but with no success. When my host mom came in later, I said horse to her and asked how exactly how to pronounce it and she said she could understand me perfectly the way I had been saying it. Similar things throughout the night happened, and I was getting rather frustrated with my lack of Spanish skills. In addition, the one time I didn't let my uncle win he accused me of cheating and he had to pace outside for twenty minutes to calm down. At dinner, my host mom told her brothers that every morning I eat a mountain of pancakes. The way she described it, I just sit there and shovel pancakes in my mouth, one after another without pausing to do less important things, like drink water or make conversation. My host uncle said to himself "That's disgusting". I was going to defend myself but then I thought, "No, actually, he's right. It's pretty disgusting." Somehow last night/today I managed to sleep in until 2:30 in the afternoon. I would have continued, but Abi came to my house in search of melatonin. My mom woke me up, saying "Little Rachel! Little Rachel! Your friend Abi is here." Confused about why Abi was at my house, I went downstairs just the way I woke up. Wearing a matching leopard print pajama set, hair on top of my head, two huge pimples, and my retainer still in. I was quite the sight to behold. Abi told me he had been having problems sleeping, and couldn't find melatonin anywhere. I ran upstairs and grabbed some, and when I came back downstairs my mom was telling him all about how she's not completely convinced I'm human. This was an interesting conclusion to jump to- and she continued to expand on her theory for 30 minutes before Abi was able to escape. She said "Rachel eats a mountain of pancakes every morning but doesn't gain weight. She drinks coffee in this weather but doesn't sweat. What's weirder is she's the only person I know who can be in a room full of mosquitos and not get bitten. I'm not sure she's human. Its true I've never had a mosquito bite that I can remember. Spider bites, yes, but never a mosquito bite. However I am fairly sure despite this convenience I am human, and just as mortal as the rest of humans. Update: I've been thinking about it lately, and whenever the codes are required on websites that say "Are you human?" I always fail them. It could say plain as day, "KR3i" and I type in "KR3i", and every single time I fail. Whenever I see this test on computers, I know my days on that service are over because I've never once in my life completed them successfully. Starting to wonder if this proves my mom's theory... An actual mountainOne moment that has really stood out for me was our group's trip to Ica and Paracas. We went to an island where the water was blue, the dirt brown, and there was animal life everywhere. The penguins sat on rocks, watching our little boat cruise by. The sea lions sat, fat and seemingly happy, many of them socializing with each other. We also spotted several dolphins- which looked the way I've always imagined dolphins would look. It was awesome we could see all these animals in more of a natural environment, playing and spending time with their families, as opposed to my other animal experiences in Peru. The zoo we went to as a class featured many animals that seemed to be underfed and in less than prime condition. Birds had feathers missing, snakes were sitting in pools of filthy, almost opaque water. Nothing in there looked like it had many years left. My other animal experience in Peru was when we went to Crocodile Island near Mancora. It was a hot day, typical of Peru, and even more so since we were in very north. There was no water in sight for these crocodiles, and there were, in my opinion, way too many crocodiles per pit. I'll be the first to admit I know next to nothing about crocodiles, but I can't imagine any animals enjoys being in that close of quarters. They didn't have room to move around, and there was no shade. There was an awful smell coming from the pit, and at first I thought it must just be waste, but our tour guide even admitted that a lot of the crocodiles were dead. The problem was there either weren't enough resources or enough motivated to move the dead crocodiles out of the pit. This meant the living crocodiles had to be constantly surrounded by dead bodies. My friends and I were trying to determine which of the crocodiles were dead and which were alive- it seems the majority were either dead or just extremely dried out. I don't know how they could live without water. When we asked the tour guide why they dumped all the crocodiles in there instead of letting them live in the wild, he said it was safer for them in there. He said in the wild people would try to hunt them, since their skin can be used to make a lot of fashion items. I couldn't imagine a life of captivity and certain premature death would be preferable to one of freedom even if there was still certain premature death. I can't say I've ever been a crocodile, but for me personally it doesn't seem like fun to be locked in a pit with a bunch of corpses of my own species. Other dead species, I can't say, but my own? Definitely not. There was an opportunity for photos at the end, there was a crocodile tourists could pose with. Mallory asked if the crocodile was real, and the guide said yes, it had been stuffed when it died so they could use it as a prop. We all took one happy photo with the crocodile, and one sad photo. I also rode a horse in Lunahuana, and the horse was in pathetic shape. Anna, Mallory, and I went with a Peruvian girl to go white water rafting and ride horses. The white water rafting was all fine and dandy, but when we saw the horses, we had to debate whether we should even ride them or not. The horses looked not only exhausted but also starved. It seemed as though they hadn't been fed properly in some time, and we could see a lot of their ribs prominently. The thing that convinced us to still ride them was that their owners looked in even worse shape. Knowing that poverty is a real problem in Peru, and many people struggle to provide for their family, we thought it was better to provide something for these people. I did feel guilty about putting so much weight on the horse. In addition, I had the most feisty horse. For whatever reason, Anna and Mallory were guided by a girl and they just got to sit there and ride along. However, my guide offered no help and I had to completely guide the horse by myself. Why he thought I was capable of this, I don't know. I hadn't ridden a horse since I was in Girl Scouts- more than 10 years ago. My horse constantly got off the path or started to go too fast or try to stand up. I was terrified by this, and have now vowed to never ride another horse. On a different note, I read a blog about a girl who decided to become vegan for health reasons- and felt she became much less sluggish when she cut out processed foods including cheese. I asked my pen pal why she is vegetarian, because after reading that article I was interested to hear her reasoning. She said it is because when she was 12 years old she read a book about the horrible treatment of animals in the slaughterhouse system, and how many emissions are given off when producing one cut of meat. She cares about the environment, and she cares about animals, and that is her reasoning for no longer consuming meat.
Is it unethical to use animals for human gain? Yay or neighhhh? Today was not my day. Things started off just fine, I ate breakfast, read, ate lunch, went to class, same as any other day. However during grammar class we had a test. I concentrated so hard on my test that I didn't realize my foot had fallen asleep. I started walking toward my professor's desk to hand in my test when I started to fall. I grabbed onto the white board but it just didn't get any better. What can only be described as the most dramatic tumble I've ever taken (and seeing as I'm clumsy, that's saying something), lasted at least a full minute. My classmates paused their test taking to watch me flail around for a while. I can only hope I didn't flash anyone. I was glad I wasn't injured, but a little embarrassed that I had made such a scene. After class, Traysea and I went to the mall. Several people came up to me and told me I needed to fix my skirt, but didn't specify why. Traysea said she couldn't see anything wrong with it, but paranoid I carried my backpack lower than usual to be safe. We went into a cosmetics store and I think we must have come across as two of the most eccentric customers yet. Traysea asked if they had shampoo, and I think they were a bit confused by the broad question of availability of shampoo...not any specific kind. They spent about ten minutes explaining a certain type of shampoo to her, but she decided not to buy it because it was a little pricey. I asked if they had any jojoba oil, because I'm almost out of lotion and I've heard jojoba oil is supposed to be great for the skin. They said no, but took a few minutes to explain argon oil to me. Closer inspection proved that the type of argon oil was only for hair...seeing as I wanted it for my skin, I decided against this. I then asked if they had any scissors, because I have been thinking about trimming my hair, and as I rant about daily, I get fed up with all the time and money that I am expected to spend on beauty related items. They said no, they didn't. Traysea and I said thank you, and left, but they looked at us like we were the strangest customers they had ever dealt with. A little while later, two guys came up to Traysea and I. Thinking they were going to tell me what exactly was wrong with my skirt, we stopped to talk to them. Instead, they asked if we would like to go swimming with them sometime. We said "No, thank you..we have boyfriends already", and left. For whatever reason it was impossible to catch a taxi next to Jockey. We found one but he wanted 15 soles ($5) to take us to campus...in retrospect we should have taken that one but we said no way Jose considering its usually 7 soles. We walked so long looking for a taxi that we made it all the way to Traysea's house. From there I was able to catch a taxi, but it was my first time to take one alone and my mind was rampant with possible bad scenarios. Thankfully I made it to the school in one piece. This outfit has never failed meThis is probably not socially acceptable to admit, but I don't think too many people are gonna read this anyway so here goes. I've been growing mold in a cup for some time now in my room. I was curious what would happen if I let chicha morada- the essence of Peru in a cup, sit around for a while. My observations so far have been that the strawberries my host mom put in there have hardened, and within the first three days a bluish greenish mold had started to grow. There is also a smell of rotting bananas that is now coming from the cup. As soon as you walk into my room, the odor hits you. However I am too curious to see if the drink will become a living creature or something of the sort that I don't want to throw it out. What is the goo humans supposedly came from was actually chicha morada??? Maybe I'm going to bring forth human life...just kidding but really though I want to see what happens next. I'm just slightly concerned that my host mom will get mad if she ever comes into my room for any reason. She washed my sheets one time because I eat so many cookies in bed that she was worried I would attract ants. Its been so long since we've had chicha morada that she probably won't even know where I got it. However that being said, its transformed so much already she might not even know that's what it is. I guess I could always tell her I'm making my own penicillin.
My host mom also has a science experiment of her own going right now. She started a new diet today where all she eats is cabbage soup. I was a little scared what she would serve me today for lunch, but was thrilled when it was lentils and rice instead of cabbage soup. Having it once would be more than enough, let alone if she decided to put me on the diet with her. Sometimes she phrases questions rather interestingly, she asks me, "Would you rather have pop, which will make you fat, or tea, which won't make you as fat?" I still pick whichever one I actually want, since water isn't really a thing here, but its an interesting way to phrase it. She seems really concerned that I'm going to gain weight, which is interesting to me, but I guess nice she cares? I don't know. I think its a lot more important to be happy and healthy than it is to be thin. I personally don't think the cabbage diet is worth it, but its her choice. Just like eating a cookie- or six- is mine. I know I often rant, in person and one this blog, about how much I hate that we as a society base so much off of physical appearance. However I know that is not something that will ever go away completely-so I just need to surround myself with people who have the same mindset as me. One day in Mancora Karina, Anna, and Mallory helped me when I was at my worst and the next day I didn't sense even the slightest bit of judgment from them. If I didn't know it 100% for sure before that, that was when I realized they were great friends. I also really enjoy talking to Traysea. I once needed a converter from her, and after she gave it to me she realized her friends had left. She asked Anna and I if she could come with us to the mall. That was how a great friendship was started. I really like Traysea. I just started this blog off like this so I could segue into talking about hair care. I get frustrated by the fact that many cosmetic companies, scratch that, companies of all types, tell women they need to do certain things to be beautiful. Eat this, drink that, do this to your hair, all these things they say you can't be satisfied without. First of all, I think true beauty comes from within. Second of all, I don't think its fair to tell women they aren't beautiful just the way they are. Take the shampoo industry for example. Shampoo is a fairly new invention. It started around 120 years ago. I find it highly unlikely that before that everyone had disgustingly greasy hair. From the "research" I've been doing about the subject on the internet, shampoo strips away all of your hair's natural oils. It then coats the hair with an artificial layer. The actual hair is dry, but it feels soft due to the layer of chemicals. The shampoo is also only designed to last a short while, more or less depending on how easily the hair gets greasy. It is both frustrating and interesting to me that the majority of the hair care industry seems to be something that was made up. The whole idea that you need to wash your hair every day, or every day, seems to be a scheme by the hair care companies to make money. Metaphorically, it seems like basically the same basic concept can be applied to self worth. There is the natural self worth, and then we strip it away by the desire to fit in and "look pretty". Then we build it up again but its only on the surface, it doesn't go deep. I personally only wash my hair on the 2nd to 4th day anyway, so I was not opposed to trying what the internet is referring to as the "no-poo" method. This is cutting shampoo completely out of my routine and washing my hair every four to five days with water, and once a month with vinegar and baking soda. The theory is that within a few weeks to months, the hair will normalize and no longer need any products to keep it looking good. My main motivation to do this is how frustrated I am about spending so much time and money devoted to physical appearance. This will hopefully at least slightly reduce that. Plus I figure now is the ideal time because even if my hair gets really greasy, its not like I have a job here, so I won't get in trouble for grossing out customers. I'd like to do the same thing with makeup, but I don't think I'm comfortable enough "in my own skin". Anna claims I look the same in the morning when I wake up as I do after I put on makeup, other than my eye makeup, which is typically fairly heavy, but I'm not sure I believe that is true. Maybe I'll stick to hair for right now, and once I start to run out of makeup reconsider the idea of going natural. Today I am on the 6th day of the no poo method. I washed my hair with water yesterday morning. I don't think it looks too greasy yet, although I'll admit I could be delusional. I once stopped shaving my legs for a year because I thought I had stopped growing leg hair. After I got a new prescription for my contact lenses, I realized I was sorely mistaken. True friendsThe typical Peruvian seems much younger than the typical American. This is not just because they are usually shorter- it is the way they act. Most people here live with their parents well into their 20's, or until they get married. Anna's host sister is 27 years old and if I met her on the street I would think she was 16 at the oldest. She always ask her mom for not only money but also for permission whenever she goes out, she has never been on a date, nor does she even seem to pay attention to anyone as more than a friend, and she expects her mom to cook all of her meals for her and do her laundry. Anna said one weekend her mom was out of town and her siblings were completely helpless when it was time to eat. They found a cold piece of pizza in the back of the fridge and shared it between the three of them for one meal, and for the rest of the meals they each ate a plain piece of bread. My host mom also expressed concern for them during this time, she asked me, "What are Anna and her siblings going to do for food?? I can't believe their mom would go out of town without them!". The whole thing was slightly ridiculous to me. There was a lot of relief when their mom finally got back. We also have a friend who is 23, but she acts so young I would never have thought she was older than 15 if I had to guess. I know its a different culture, but its just different to me. A lot of people in their 20's in the U.S. live alone, with friends, or with their boyfriends. Here that is the exception, not the rule. In the U.S., it is somewhat looked down upon to live at home after graduating from college, but here it is common. I personally don't have any plans to move out of my dad's house anytime soon, but I also don't have any visions of living there until I'm 30, nor could I imagine being completely defenseless when taking care of myself. Well, time to log off so I can eat the nice meal my mom prepared for me. Hasta luego. Into the wilderness |