It’s okay for things to suck sometimes… that’s life.

Contrary to popular belief and the state of my Instagram, living in Perú has not been a picnic.

My cystic acne has returned with a vengeance, the diet of rice and potatoes has done nothing for my waistline, and every bathroom I walk into smells like piss.

Am I enjoying myself despite these things? I’d lean toward yes. The air is clean here in Junín, and I’m learning to say, “Please no more food, I just cannot eat that much,” on a regular basis. The sky is bright blue when it’s not raining, and I feel a sense of home when I walk between the eucalyptus trees in the forest outside of town. My host family is putting up with my broken ass Spanish, and I think we are growing to enjoy each other’s company. Every day I say approximately two more words at the dinner table than the day before, so I’d say I am a very average language learner. It's been a lot of quiet meals sipping hierba (eucalyptus or muña tea for altitude sickness) and watching strange Peruvian game shows on the ancient television in the kitchen. I like when they ask the contestants how to say "marrón" or "amarillo" in English. I always get those questions right, my shining moment.

Over the last five days since I arrived in Apata, my days have consisted of drawing with my host siblings (the nietos de mi mama anfitriona) who are 5, 6, and 13 years old, rotting in bed on my unlimited data plan because I miss the US (yeah, I said it), and practicing Spanish on DuoLingo until it kicks me off for making to many mistakes.

Today was my second day working in the health center, and I have about ten million surveys that I have to pass out to students, teachers, and school principals. My socia (emotional support co-worker) and I went to the schools to pick up the student surveys we dropped off the day before. I asked the school director if I could be involved in the meetings for planning the curriculum for the following school year since school is out for “summer break” in two weeks, and she said to my socia, “She doesn’t understand enough Spanish to be in the meeting.” I didn’t have the words to articulate myself, and yeah, she’s right. I do not understand half of what is being said to me at any given point. But, hey, you’ve got an American who’s willing to work for free in your school, cut me some slack maybe? Eventually, my socia convinced her to let me get the Zoom link for the meeting which happens to be tonight, and now I am waiting for my hour of reckoning this evening.

Every day in Perú is humbling. I am learning to be embarrassed and ostracized regularly, and take it all in stride. At least at night I can go in my room, call up some friends or my dad, and do half a Pilates video on YouTube before I pass out under my five blankets and one lumpy pillow.

It’s the simple things that will get me by, like watching telenovelas with my host mom on two wooden chairs in the back of her tienda or drawing little pictures with my host siblings in the courtyard between the rainstorms. And hey, at least I'm still here doing my damn best.