DON'T JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER!

Years ago when I was a new Peace Corps Volunteer the Country Director came for a visit to see my village and to check on my projects.  After a walking tour around the village she said, "Karen, are you safe here?"  I was taken off guard.  Of course I feel safe!  It's a poor community but poor doesn't make it unsafe.  I come from Los Angeles where poor might equate with unsafe but this isn't Los Angeles!  What I determined is I had failed to really show her the village or that she failed to have the ability to look at it through a cultural lens.  She saw people liming (a term for hanging out), she saw a begger, and we walked by a few people smoking something other than tobacco.  When she saw this, she failed to see what was underneath.  She failed to see the caring people with which I was surrounded.  She failed to see the real village.  An example of "judging that book by it's cover".

I woke early today to walk to LaTille Falls.  Really early!  For me, intensely early!  I left the house at 6:30 . . . that's a.m.  Applause please!  By Saint Lucia time it is late.  People tend to get up very early before the sun rises to cook or clean or work in the fields or fish.  Getting up early to beat the heat.   And so it was necessary as the Falls is a couple of miles away.  It's 80 degrees and there's a nice island breeze.

Nigel and I walked through the village and I questioned her  about used tires.  One thing that is disturbing is that there is a lot of trash left strewn around the village . . . tires, plastic bottles, food wrappings and containers.  I wish it wasn't like this, but it is.  Every so often they have a clean up but it never seems to last.  There is no shortage of tires.  They are everywhere, some discarded and others repurposed. They use them to create barriers that hold back mud in storms.  Others are repurposed for flower pots.

On an island where it is difficult to get resources, people look at what we think of as trash or weeds differently.  These "weeds" might be passed up to the average visitor, however, this is what is used to make mats and baskets.

So we pass listening to the birds, seeing the poor old goat with one horn as well as a myriad of chickens, roosters, and dogs most in search of a scrap of food.  We say goodbye to the village and cross the highway walking just a bit to the sign that reads "LaTille Falls".

Walking up the road, I have left behind the hustle of everyday life . . . although compared to Los Angeles I find little hustle in Saint Lucia, but this is nature and the further travelled on this road, the more quiet and serene it gets.  I've been this way before and was excited to come up here again. There are small patches of land where people come to farm.

Making Charcoal

Pealing Papaya

As we enter there is a stack of wood and as I look closer I can see the pit where it is buried for the slow cook that transforms it into charcoal.  As I move down the road I see plenty of banana farms.  These are what made past farmers rich, but sadly not anymore; hurricanes and trade deals have moved the banana industry aside.  These small farms are used to process a small export business as well as a resource for the country.  It is a haven for me as the banana's in our stores are no match for a Saint Lucia banana picked ripe.  Nigel, always prepared, picks a papaya from a roadside tree and shares it with me.  Oh my gosh the fruit is so good here!

Small Banana Farm

Chicken Farm

Down the road there is something new and not here nine years ago...a chicken farm on the right and bags of chicken poop free for taking on the left.  Stinky, though it is, it is also a good fertilizer.

Very Stinky Chicken Poop

And now as I reflect during this peaceful walk, we have reached our destination.  I've been here on several occasions.  Once with our group of Peace Corps Trainees, once with children in the nearby village of MoPo, once with family members and I'm sure there were more times.  But I have not been here in nine years.

A new sign

Here's a shining example of "you can't judge a book by it's cover".  I remember when I was a volunteer people in the village would say, "Sly had so much to offer and he has wasted it.  He's a Rasta living in the jungle."  I was somewhat surprised when I first met Sly after hearing that comment.  He had a vision then and was creating a reality from it.  But who could have known how his vision would grow!  Yes, he was living in the jungle, but he was creating a sustainable environment.  Yes he has a lot to offer, but sometimes people can't see the vision right away.  He is an educated man who, then, was living in a small hut with solar-generated electricity.  He was creating a sustainable lifestyle, thanks to his knowledge of irrigation techniques and the abundance of water from his waterfall.  He was creating a lifestyle that would not leave a footprint on the environment.  That was then....

Fish Pedicure

LaTille Falls is a Saint Lucia gem and it is protected.  The government recognizes its importance.  Sly became involved in the Castries Tourism Council and connected with the incoming ships.  Passengers are now able to take a bus...sometimes 60 people to Sly's property.  And it is so much more than it was then.  He has a reception center with handmade items that locals have left for sale.  He has a fish pedicure pond ... I did this in Vietnam for a price and it was so much fun.  He has hiking trails and of course a trail leading down to the waterfall and pond.  There are benches and hammocks and cleared trails.  It is stunning.  And he teaches how to live off the grid.

Steps leading to waterfall

Peaceful Pathways

The Reception Center

A not so good picture of the waterfall

But that wasn't all.  He's made profit from the tour ships and some of that profit has gone into building an "Off-the-Grid" AirBnB.  It is complete with a kitchen, living room, electricity and plug receptacles.  It has a bedroom and a bathroom with an outdoor shower.  It is really amazing.  He has sights set to build another one near the river so that people can walk out their door and into the river.  Staying here isn't just a stay...it's an education.

It was such a treat to see this property after all these years.  It is an amazing success story! Sly is living the dream - he is living large!  

And now I need a nap after five miles in the heat.

THINGS I KNOW

It's July 2019 and I have come back to Saint Lucia...the place where this blog started during my two years with the United States Peace Corps.  This is the place I call my second home.  It's been nine years since I left.  I was concerned I may not feel I belonged anymore, but I shouldn't have.

One thing I miss is having the time to reflect on small bits of my life and write about it.  I have been to so many countries in my life, and I haven't found the time to write. So maybe I'll write a bit backwards while I'm here in Saint Lucia.

Right to left: Grandma Curci, my mother Pat Pettyjohn (Wegener), and my Great Grandmother, Grandma Cruz and then there is me.  I'm probably just a few months old

This blog is written for anyone who cares to spend the time reading it, but it is specifically written for my grandchildren.  When I was a young adult my grandmother wanted me to help her write a book about her life.  I never found the time for it.  Now that I'm older I wish I had.  I know she had an interesting life ,,, bits and pieces ... here and there.  I know she was married to a "womanizer".  I met him one time.  My mother hated him, likely because she was a child and didn't want to experience divorce, or maybe not.  Mom always said that when they got divorced he wanted to take her brother and leave mom to grandma.  I'm not sure that's the truth, but it's a story.  There are no pictures of him that I am aware of.

My grandmother lived in "sin" during the Great Depression.  His name was Dr. Orlich.  I know absolutely nothing about him, including how his name might be spelled or why he held the title of doctor.  They lived in a Chicago basement.  Grandma was lucky she had work.  She was a secretary in a meat packing company.  I remember one story she told.  All the men got raises and when she questioned why nothing more was in her paycheck, the boss responded "because men have families to support".  My grandmother was a proponent of women's equality.

She came to California and married my grandfather, Grandpa (Paul) Curci.  He was a bald Italian man who was always kind and loving to me.  I don't know much about him, where they met, or why he immigrated from "the old country".  I do know he had little education and was self-made and amassed wealth that carried him through life.  He hustled for work.  He bought and renovated homes, sold at a a profit.  He took old broken pallets, fixed them and sold them back to the farmers in Palos Verdes.  He liked to eat spaghetti and Italian bread which by the end of the week was hard, but was never thrown away.  Anyone who lived through the Great Depression never threw good food away.  In later life he spent his days with his buddies at the "used car lot".

Grandma waited on him as you might expect a woman to do in those times.  She wore an apron over her housedress, making sure she was home to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner for him.  But she also worked in real estate sales and was fairly successful buying pieces of land and turning it over into a retirement fund.  Money was a contentious argument between them so they created a legal agreement to separate their financial lives.  Grandma supported herself.  She bought the duplex in Hawthorne where they lived.  She bought the land on Hawthorne Boulevard and built a home and apartment complex, later leasing some of the property to Chaffee Motors.  She did well for herself.  It is a conflict in my mind as to why she would be subservient to my grandfather, but on the other hand be a savvy business woman.  These questions could have been uncovered if I had found the time to help her with her book.  

And so, now I hope sometime in your life when you are older and curious you might pick up my blog and discover the person inside the grandmother exterior.

PERU 2017

I went on this trip by myself … well, sort of.  It’s a tour, but only three people besides myself were in the group.  My backpack stuffed and suitcase packed carefully leaving room for any wonderful treasures I must bring home.

The altitude is high.  Cusco is 11,000 feet.  My mountain home is only 6,500 feet above sea level.  I brought altitude sickness pills prescribed by the doctor.  I booked a hotel for a day to lay around and try to acclimate before joining the others.  The hotel is nice with amazing views of Cusco which was the original capitol of the Incas.

The next day Miguel is waiting at the hotel desk.  He is to be our host.  After taking a few pictures of the great views, we leave the hotel.  When I get into the car there is a woman, Stacey, sitting in the front seat.  She is one of the three people I will be travelling with. 

“Hi, I’m Karen.  Where are you from?” 

“Atlanta.” She responds without looking at me.

Oh great, this is going to be fun.

“What’s your name?”

“Stacey” she says, again without looking at me.

It’s a quiet car ride to Miguel’s house.

I immediately don’t like her.

There is a young boy waiting just outside Miguel’s house.  His name is George.  He and his mother, Katrina, are the other two in our small group.  It turns out Stacey and I became friends as will be demonstrated in Peru 2018.  She had little sleep and suffers from motion sickness while riding in cars . . . hence, her bitchiness-self is forgiven.

Peru is my favorite country.  Every new country is my favorite.  Well, okay, I love all the countries I’ve visited.  I love my Peace Corps Saint Lucia home and my Webster University Ghana home.  I began my interest in these countries when visiting my son Jay while he was Peace Corps Honduras.  Guatemala was amazing….I could clearly go on forever.  You must understand what I’m trying to say.  I like cultural differences.  Diversity is the reason I travel and I suppose the reason I’ve taken little interest in developed countries in Western Europe.

ME, KATRINA, GEORGE, AND STACEY

Peru began slow so we could adjust to the altitude.  There was plenty of coca leaves, coca tea, and coca candy.  A tour of Cusco which included us dressing in traditional attire…and, of course, a silly tourist photo.

We moved to Andahuaylas where Miguel and his family have what is affectionately known as the Farmhouse.  I’m not sure why it’s called that.  Stacey named it.  More about Stacey later.  They raise guinea pigs for food.  

They have geese which I think are there to annoy people because as you must know geese are not exactly affectionate.  But in contrast there are two stray dogs, Benjamin and Osa that will ensure safety for a small morsel of bread.  

THEY SAY THIS IS A FRUIT
SOMEWHAT LIKE A TOMATO

There are also vegetables planted in various nooks in the garden filled with beautiful flowers and trees and plants.  It is a place where dragonflies and hummingbirds are easily spotted. The farmhouse has rooms for guests, and can accommodate about 40 people.  It is equipped with a large kitchen and dining room.  It is a small village haven, peaceful and serene.

One day local women came and taught us to make traditional dolls.  We purchased some of their handmade items, which I bought for displays at the grandkids International Day.  Doll making is a nice experience and even though I am far from crafty, I love my dolls.  Another day we toured the ruins at Sacred Valley, a site where Incas lived and grew agriculture.

I became intrigued with the beauty of doors and cobblestone streets.  At home  workers poor hot tar and asphalt into the streets, and patching potholes has become job security.  The cobblestone streets which have been there for years look as beautiful as they likely were when first laid…but I must say they can be difficult to walk on.  So once again in a foreign country, I look down as I walk.

It seems any small reason becomes a champion for a parade.  We went to so many, some planned and some we just happened to come upon.  Villages each have a variation of costume.  They dance around squares with baskets of offerings.  Some parades have booths with games and traditional foods.  The trout was some of the best I’ve had . . . sometimes cooked in clay ovens and sometimes buried in plantain leaves and cloth.

Our evenings were filled playing games, doing homework, and making lanterns with local school children.

One day we went to a local boys home to make lunch for them.  We met volunteers who were painting a new facility and we interacted with many of the boys who were playing on the trampoline.  We toured the large vegetable garden, walked over to the chicken coups, and talked to the kind retired policeman who is trying to keep the facility alive for these boys.

PICTURE AT BOYS HOME

After lunch we drove to a local zoo, so to speak.  A man who is obviously an animal lover takes in animals who are injured.  He feeds them and loves them.  He has no funding and does this from the heart.  I can only imagine what he does to ensure they are fed.  There are alpaca, llama, monkeys, parrots, a sloth and even a condor.  Condors are quite sacred in Inca culture.  They believe when people die they must be put into a fetal position.  Left, they will be picked up by a condor and carried to the heavens.  We took pictures and donated money to feed these amazing animals.  I must say holding a sloth was quite amazing.  It was the most cuddled I’d been in my lifetime.

By now Stacey had warmed up and we were becoming friends.  This is when I began noticing that Miguel, our host, seemed to be taking an interest in her.  She had no idea.  She’s a last minute, put everything off type person.  She lives in the moment, leaving her job as a Physicians Assistant to travel and “find herself”.  She travelled to various countries, Japan among them.   Then she tried to travel to other countries, each presenting some difficult barrier, and she eventually settled on Peru.  This clearly would end in significant event.

One day we went to visit a shaman in the hills where he performed an healing offering.  We climbed up to a cave and all was well until we started making our way down.  That’s when Stacey decided to take a shortcut and tumbled down the mountain.  She had dirt and burrs and leaves and mud all over her but never lost her sense of humor.  One of the travellers was a doctor and immediately went into doctor mode but in the end all was well.

And on another day we went to a doll factory run by a Peruvian artist.

The two highlights of the trip came towards the end.  We rode horses to Rainbow Mountain, a spiritual site where weather and minerals make beautiful rainbow colors.  It is high and a difficult climb for me even with a horse.  There were many times when we had to get off the horse and hike because of the difficulty.  The last quarter mile was on a steep incline.  At an altitude of 17,000 feet I admit it…I was exhausted and wanted to quit, but did make it and glad I did! 

The second highlight, of course: Machu Picchu.  Although no one really knows it’s exact use, anyone experiencing the ruins can see it was a bustling community for the Incas.  There is evidence of a cultural caste system, study of the sun, farming, and a belief system of the sky, inner earth and outer earth.  They have symbols for each: the Snake sheds it’s skin and emerges to the outer earth where they gain the strength of a Puma.  When death arrives, they were placed in a fetal position where the strength of the Condor picks up the dead and carries them to the sky.  This is a circular process of rebirth and death.  It is common to see these three symbols throughout Cusco and its surroundings.

It was a nice couple of weeks and a beautiful country…another favorite.  Little did I know I’d be back for Peru Round 2.

And the reason I am a year late in writing this blog is this.  I flew home and called Brendan to come get me at LAX.  “Bring Barkley”.  He said ok and we hung up.  A few minutes later he called and said Barkley didn’t look good.  “Should I bring him to get you?”  “No take him to emergency.  I’ll meet you there”.  Barkley was on eight pills a day and suffered from congestive heart disease.  Three hours after coming home my precious, beautiful friend passed in my arms.  It was July 1, 2017 and I still cry everyday.  He was my friend, my companion, and my reason to begin each day.  He hugged me every morning when I picked him up and carried him to the kitchen for breakfast.  And then, a month later, my long time sister-friend died.  It was August 8, 2017 when Leslie, my friend of over 40 years left.  It has been a difficult transition for me to bare.