I leave for two months in Peru on Friday.
I'm getting a little obsessive over the fact that I could die there (yes, I know I could die here, I realize that everyday, and still waste excessive amounts of precious time). Part of that has to do with a doctor who thought it would be fun to scare me, part of it to do with a worrywart father, part of it to do with only getting vaccinated for particular areas. So, if I die in the next two months, I'll be okay with that. While I haven't written a wonderful book or discovered something unique, I have loved a lot of people and done a lot of things that I'm pleased about.
And if I don't die, I'll come back here after severe culture shock and divide my time between Belleville and Montreal, missing people from both places always.
I'm interested in working with mostly poverty stricken orphans for two months, then immediately spending two months with middle class kids in arts day camp. I'm interested in what I will do about shaving my legs or armpits. I'm interested in how safe I will feel in a city where I have to wear my passport and cash hidden under my clothes. I'm interested in how much Spanish I will pick up and how well I can communicate non verbally. I'm so excited, and terrified.
If you're reading this, I probably love you, so best wishes this summer, and wish me luck.
