Bricks and good byes

In the wake of my post-Chachani high came the inevitable low. After a day of basking in the glorious Arequipan sun, eating ice cream in the park, Monday arrived with vengeance.

I woke and immediately regretted it. I could feel my pulse in my joints again. I walked to work, back into the rhythm of listing the things I love and counting my steps. Why did my head hurt so much? Why did my body ache to the bone?

I could have easily turned around gone home, curled up into bed and slept the day away. But instead, I got to work and was met with the cheery smiles and high fives of "my" construction team. Monkey felt my pain. But John and Jeff carried us through the day. They mixed more than their fair share of cement and told more than their fair share of jokes. By the end of the day I was back to my chirpy self with a spring in my step.

Week two of construction is tough, but not as tough as the first. We mix cement in the dusty afternoon heat, for the foundations, then mortar for the bricks. We don't lay the bricks, the masons do, with fast hands and instinctive spacing. We mix cement, which invariably means moving 42.5kg bags of cement from A to B, commonly up a hill. But as we mix, we chat and we laugh. While the masons cement the water reservoir we cement our relationships.

By Friday we have what looks like, well, a water reservoir and a solid group of workers. We each have earned the t-shirt tan line we now fashion. We each earned the respect of each other, the locals and the masons. They each earned the hugs I spontaneously gave out.

On Friday we visit the first water reservoir built in the Hunter area. From it you can see the city and the 'pueblos jovenes' (young towns) as they merge into Arequipa. From it you can see volcano Chachani and volcano Misti. From it you can see our water reservoir.

Standing atop the hill and looking out over this arid city I am humbled. Everywhere I look my eyes are met with a grey-brown, the colour of the dirt, and the colour of the dust with layers everything. As dogs dodge cars on the streets below a drunk old woman sits there shouting at the world. Later her daughter comes up to get her and walk her home.

This is normal. Alcohol is a huge problem in these communities. Everyday I see a drunk, weathered man or woman stumble up the hill. One man even stopped to ask me if I was a man or a woman (which the guys thought was wildly amusing) and upon realising I was obviously not a man, shook my hand and told me we had our lives ahead of us, while his was behind him, looked me crookedly in the eye and called me beautiful.

But everyday I also see the young school children crest the hill in their uniforms marching home. Everyday I see the presidente of the area, a lovely woman, come to shake our hands, kiss our cheeks and thank us for our time. Everyday I see the men and woman working in the fields, moving the cows to taller pastures.

Hunter is a beautiful place, where strife meets kindness. During the day it is generally vacant, its inhabitants in the fields or city working. But all you have to do is close your eyes, breath in the dust and know that the place is alive. Atop this rocky hillside.

So a sad moment was shared as Monkey and John made their final journey home from a hard day's work. Yesterday, Saturday, I bid them both farewell.

Its sad, the life of a volunteer means meeting kindred spirits, who you share- even for a second-a mutual love for a place, a life changing experience, a smile. So as they trek Macchu Picchu and head home to greener lands, Jeff and I continue our work in Hunter.

So, after a restful weekend in Arequipa, taking in the sites (went to see the frozen girl- a Mayan girl who was sacrificed to the gods at 14 years old, frozen in the volcanic snow, and excavated to uncover secrets of the time) indulging in good food (officially found the best hot chocolate in the world- Monkey even made me ask for the recipe, get this, it includes... wait for it... butter) and good company (Monkey and John, I love you), I feel excited for the final week which promises cement mixing and painting.

Before leaving Monkey bestowed this quote to me:

"Live your life as an exclamation, not an explanation"

On that note. Hugs, peace and love from Arequipa.

Bricks and good byes