Saludos de Chile! We are just across the border from Peru in Arica, Chile. We came yesterday in order to pick up our visas with our friend Christi, who is a SAM missionary teacher in the jungle. All three of us are now official "non-Catholic religious residents" of Peru. I never dreamed the process would be so easy, but we were able to take care of it in about an hour. Actually, all we did was wait and sign our names once or twice.

As I am growing more accustomed to doing every day, I had to sign "Hannah P. Fulton." Four years ago when I had my passport amended to have my new married name, they put a little note in the back in English to say what had changed. I'd say more times than not, it doesn't work. Especially since most people here can't read it, they insist that my official name is Hannah Fulton and that I must have all my paperwork done in that name. When I dropped my passport off to start this visa process, I explained very carefully about the name change. No luck. So now in addition to having my cell phone in my maiden name, I have my visa and probably will have to have my national ID card too. What does this mean next year when I have my passport renewed and my name really changes?

The official business completed, we are enjoying our stay in Arica. Yesterday we ate lunch overlooking a port filled with sea lions. They're huge! Today we spent a few too many hours on the beach and came home pretty in pink. We'll return to Arequipa tomorrow morning for a brief stay at our house and then on to the SAM Peru conference this week.

Here's Tim with the new and even more complicated dog bed he finished tonight. This makes the 4th dog bed between the two of us in two weeks I think. We are perfecting our skills. This one is actually for Sally and Chovis, our host family's dogs, who were eyeing Taza's bed the other day.

I've been thinking a lot today about superstition. I knew before I arrived in Peru that superstition had quite a hold on the country, but I never expected to find it among the Protestant or non-religious people here. Nonetheless, I hear bizarre ideas from the most unlikely folks every week. For example, one of my language teachers told me recently of a trick for knowing proper nutrition involving holding a food in one hand and having someone try to pry apart your clenched fingers on the other hand. What?!?

Another thing I've heard about recently from people I respect is that they leave Bibles open in rooms of sick or hurting people. Is that superstition? I suppose it depends on the heart behind it, whether the open Bible is a reminder for the person or whether it is meant to be some magical power. And speaking of Bibles, that same person told me yesterday that it's okay if someone doesn't understand what they are reading in the Bible as long as he/she is reading it. Again, not directly superstition but somewhere related I think. Obviously the majority of the culture has a lot stronger forms of expressing superstition- food left out for spirits, amulets, rituals, etc.

I think the superstition comes partly from Peru's not-forgotten, venerated tribal past but also from the way Catholicism has been expressed here, the way that for many it has disintegrated over the centuries into empty rituals. When sacraments are divorced from faith, what is left but superstition? To kill any suspense, I have a lot to say in support of Catholicism and ecumenicalism, but I will save that for another day. Today I'm just left pondering what kind of importance this pervading superstition might have and what my response could/should be.

Today Miriam and I visited a family in the one of the more humble parts of town. All said and done, it was quite an experience. We were supposed to meet the mom at her house at 1, but she didn't come until 1:40 (about when we had planned to leave). In the intervening time, the dad showed us around his shoe workshop where he and a few other men make leather shoes in 150 models. I think I was already tired (and cold- the high today inside and outside is 55 F), so I wasn't really thrilled about walking around the mini-factory pretending to be enchanted by the shoes. I also couldn't understand much of what he was saying since he was mumbling, slurring, and speaking softly.

When the mom came home, we sat in the "living room" (area) and she basically talked for an hour. I was glad to have her talk since I didn't have much to say except that I was tired and wanted to go home. Around 2 she served us saltines and orange Fanta, which was a huge relief since we were waiting for lunch until we got home and hadn't eaten since breakfast. The whole house was gray concrete- ceiling, walls, floor, stairs, etc.- and the sofa was something like a futon frame with slats and a foam cushion. I kept sliding between the slats.

The main reason we came was to visit the 9 year old daughter, Anabella, who has some very serious problems. She was conceived outside of wedlock, and to save the mom from the shame, delivered at home by a midwife. Unfortunately there were some problems during the delivery and now she is a shell of what she would have been. At 9 years, she can't feed herself, eat anything non-liquid, move her limbs, communicate. She wears diapers and is carried around the house by her parents. The only indication I had that she was conscious of what was going on in the room was when her mom mentioned the name of her favorite doctor and she smiled.

What a situation. Can you imagine the weight of knowing that your own pride had hurt your child in this way? It's amazing how many people there are here with physical or mental ailments. They line the streets begging for money. Sometimes I wonder why there are so many more here than in the US. I guess it's partly that they don't have the money for prosthetic limbs, surgeries, etc. Also a lack of good prenatal care, domestic abuse during pregnancies, insufficient nutrition. It breaks my heart.

It hit me today that compassion walking down the street won't take me far if I don't have it sitting in someone's home. Part of it is still culture shock, but I want so much to have a servant's heart of love and joy as I am sitting in my neighbors' living rooms in Puerto Supe. I know it is the fruit of the Holy Spirit but also the determination and decision to love. Something to ponder.

Sorry for the ten millionth puppy post. It's a slow day for news. Taza's ridiculous fleece cape does have an interesting cultural story to go along with it, actually. Doggie clothes and comfort are a huge deal here. They act like it has nothing to do with fashion and that it's all about keeping the poor things warm, but I'm not sure. Regardless, our family has been very concerned about Taza being cold over the last few weeks, so today, I finally broke down and sewed her a little sweater out of polar fleece. I can't believe it. At their request, I also made a cushion and curtain for her crate and wrapped it in 3 m x 1.7 m of fleece. Surely she will be warm tonight. (In their defense, her crate is outside and it was 47 F at dawn this morning.)

We are right at the end of what statistics say is one of the hardest months of cultural adjustment (month 4). "Culture shock" can take many forms: disorientation, confusion, fear, loneliness, compulsions, depression, frustration, irritation, even disgust for the new culture. Now doesn't that make you want to move abroad?!

I think Taza has been a good addition to our family in this season. Now that she's not having seizures (!), she fills our home (room) and hearts with so much joy. Another plus is that in a week we will have our South America Mission Peru conference. It's just outside Arequipa, but we will spend a week in some form of luxury and surrounded by people of our own culture more or less. The language issue is much less important than the fact that they understand our jokes, questions, habits, etc. And don't worry, the conference center said we could bring Taza along.

I think for us the biggest indications of culture shock this month have been frustration with the food, loneliness, irritation when things don't work the way we think they should, longing for comfortable living space and good lighting, being fed up with school/homework (Tim), and mini-depressions that seem to hit at least me a few nights a week. I'm grateful that every morning is a fresh new chance at joy.

This morning in church our pastor was talking about the priviledge we have through Jesus Christ, that in Him we have access to God Himself. I am reading through the book of Leviticus right now, and the sermon gives flavor to a sometimes boring book. It reminds me that all of the sacrifices and offerings and rules are over, that our one Great Priest has taken care of it all, and that because of Him, I have the opportunity to draw near to GOD. It reminds me, too, that I've been more concerned recently with catching up on my daily Leviticus readings than with finding myself in His Presence. What a tragedy. The Bible is something special, but it's not an end in and of itself.

It hit me this morning that God is probably more interested in glorifying Himself in me than through me, that it is absolutely essential that I am delighting myself in His Presence. This faith is not a pyramid scheme. I'm here because of something real and something I myself know and experience. At the same time, it is something to share. Maybe more like a family tree, that we've come to be part of God making new creatures out of the old mess, to be witnesses of new births and new lives. We are not here to sell nonsense, but we have come to pass on to those interested the great treasure that has changed our very lives.

I've been thinking a lot recently about the cultural differences that I'm getting used to. One of the most significant is food. "Getting used to" is relative, I guess, because I still wouldn't say I have much fondness for Peruvian cuisine. Let's start with what I like.

• Every kind of fresh fruit I can imagine (minus kiwi). We drink fresh juice every morning. I think this morning it was strawberry and something. There are fruits here that I had never seen or heard of.
• Everything is fresh daily. My favorite triangular wheat bread is delivered fresh to the door in the morning so I can eat it with butter and jam (or sometimes avocado and tomato). I can feel and see the difference in my body from eating less preservatives.
• Rocoto relleno. YUM. Look for the photo below. It's Arequipa's own.
• Arroz con leche and alfajores, two of my favorite deserts. Also pictured below.
• We eat our main meal at 2ish and maybe a snack for dinner. It's a great routine. Why didn't I think of that before? If you wait until dinner to really eat, you're hungry all day and end up eating a lot more than you need. Also you go to bed with a rumbly tummy.

One of my main down sides is the ingredients. Here are some I am more tolerating than enjoying.

• Hardboiled egg seems to be the national garnish. Yuck. Egg also seems to appear in most soups.
• Lots of chicken thighs (at least 2x per week on my plate). Chicken feet and heads are used for soups.
• The potato came from Peru, and the Andes mountain region alone boasts around 3000 varieties. I think I've tried at least half of them since I got here. I did like potatoes, but sometimes potato variety does not equal food variety, and I'm getting a little tired.
• A myriad cheesy spicy sauces that aren't quite up my alley.
• More grease than I'm used to.

Take a look at some of the typical Peruvian dishes with which we are becoming familiar.

Aji de gallina: shredded chicken in spiced milk sauce
Rocoto relleno: Spicy red pepper filled with ground beef and veggie mixture (double yum)

Anticuchos: cow hearts on skewers
Ceviche: raw cod "cooked" in lemon juice with onions and spices

Cuy: fried guinea pig, sometimes including jaws, teeth, a little hair
Papa a la huacaina: potatos in cheese sauce

Lomo saltado: meat and veggies mixed with french fries
Papa rellena: Mashed potatoes formed around ground beef and veggie mixture, then fried (usually yummy)

DRINKS:

Chicha morada: Made from purple corn, kind of tastes like koolaid

Inca cola: Fizzy yellow bubblegum-flavored soda (owned by Coke)

Juice: Of all kinds. Amazing.

Pisco sour: National alcoholic drink of Peru. Has egg white in it, but it kind of tastes like a margarita to me.

DESSERTS:

Mazamorra morada: Also made from purple corn. Jelly-like texture.
Leche asada: Flan.
Arroz con leche: Rice pudding.
Alfajores: Crumbly cookies with caramel filling.

Taza and I got haircuts today (at different salons). After my horribly botched haircut last month, this time I went to our version of Carmen (high life hairdresser of Charlotte). My appointment was for 2 pm, but I didn't get into the chair until 3:15. Although it isn't anything close to what I asked for or expected, it's a "good" haircut I guess (nothing like last time). My top layer falls around my lips... eek. I'm sure glad I grew out my hair before coming here. Otherwise I'd be in real trouble at this point. I did have a moment in the chair of remembering that missions involves sacrifice, but as Tim says, if this is the worst it gets, I'll be awfully lucky.


In other news, Tim finished sewing Taza her second bed last night. Looks like we need some fresh ideas for sewing projects. Tim's is far more complex than mine and a little more posh to suit her. I've included a photo, but he says you can't see the "finer details" from it. As he finished sewing it last night, he mentioned that sometimes it's amazing he's not gay. Oh dear. The truth is that I love having an artist/mathematician husband with an eye for beauty, a passion for creating new things, and the technical/logic skills to do just about anything he puts his mind to.

Her other new nickname is "La Gordita," the little fatty. She has been frenetically eating her food since we switched to Pedigree Junior canned food. I'm glad she is growing, but I'm not loving her gas.

In her defense, I must say that a lot of this size is her hair growing out. I can still more or less touch my thumb and middle finger around her chest.

Today Tim's foot was giving him a lot of trouble and he didn't come to school. When I got home, he was pretty bummed. He didn't want to sit around in bed all night, but neither did he want to go anywhere. Sounds like time for "Dating for Dummies." For Valentine's Day, one of the things I gave him was a "pack" of 10 date options. Each card said what occasion the date would be appropriate for (Sat. morning, a late night out, etc). Tim opened a card that said "something fun to do at home on an empty night." The date was a game championship with wine and cheese. We picked up some Peruvian wine, Manchego and fancy Cheddar and came back home to play a long night of Boggle, Gin Rummy, Bananagrams, Yahtzee, Miles Bourne, and Scattergories. In the end, Tim won by a hair.

PS When I read him this blog prior to publishing it, he insisted that I change the report. "I think I conquered," he says. Hmmm.

Tim is now walking (hobbling along) without his special boot. His foot is still swollen and discolored, but he is improving every day. He has enjoyed his physical therapy to some degree and marvelled at the miraculous power of electrodes passing currents through his muscles.

Taza's still acting like a normal, happy, precious, non-epileptic puppy. Her new nickname is "La Pituca" (the snob). After all, what's more high life than a toy poodle puppy with a pink ribbon and seizures? After talking to another American vet yesterday, I decided that the parasite (worms) theory was a high possibility. People are supposed to deworm puppies before they sell them, but hey, we're in Peru. If she wasn't eating a lot and the worms were taking the few nutrients she had, hypoglycemic seizures could have resulted. This morning I took her to the vet here and they gave her medicine for worms. I now have the delightful task of examining her feces for a while. I must say that (doggie) bodily excretions have become less and less frightening over the last two weeks as I have changed the paper in Taza's "potty box" a few hundred times a day. Maybe that's something new parents can understand.

Our team in Puerto Supe is very graciously facilitating/supervising the repairs to our home there. It's nearly remodeling at this point, not to have anything fancy, but have something structurally sound. A few walls had dangerous cracks and they have now discovered that there is a leak under the floor. Our parquet (wood?) floors will be ripped up and replaced with concrete, unfortunately not the fancy stuff that's appearing in the US these days but plain polished concrete. I'm thinking warehouse. We get some color choices: red, black, green, yellow, or any combination of those. Oh dear. Looks like I need to start keeping my eyes open for area rugs.

Taza continues without seizures, much to our delight. We went to the vet this morning, and she will continue taking her medicine another week or so before she has a blood test to show if she is better. We are very hopeful but still confused about what exactly is going on.

The vet we saw today was the 4th person in that clinic that has treated her. There are no medical records and none of the other vets were there, so I had to give him all her history. He told me she must be epileptic, so then I had to explain to him why the other vets don't think so. A few months ago I would have been annoyed; today I was amused. Why would they keep medical records?

Everyone here seems to be an expert on doggie care. I am realizing now that I am far from ready to raise a child in Peru. I just don't have the patience for all the advice, especially because I disagree with a lot of it. More than one person has suggested that she is having seizures because I'm not giving her people food (milk especially). I actually would follow the culture in that regard, except that my Peruvian vets insist it's not a good idea. Today a vet happened to show up at our language school and my teacher asked him for some advice for Taza. He thinks it's parasites, which surprised me, since that didn't come up at all from my normal vet or from the one in Charlotte I called in a panic on Saturday. Someone else told me today that Taza's seizures are due to stress from me taking her places with me.

We have had a tough and dramatic few days. Shortly after lunch Friday, we caught Taza twitching and chewing the air. I thought she was playing until it happened again an hour later plus foam in her mouth. Tim and I freaked out and rushed her to the vet. They gave her a blood test, a distemper test, and kept her overnight for observation. I was a complete wreck. When we went to get her yesterday, the minute I picked her up she had (another) seizure. I handed her (twitching, foaming, and urinating) over to the vet and burst into tears watching her convulsing on the table. When she recovered, she was exhausted, filthy, and traumatized to the point that she wasn’t responding to her name and was hiding her head under anything available.

Although she has perked up since then and seems to be acting normally, the news isn’t great. Her blood test showed that she is anemic, most likely just from not eating enough, and that she has some kind of inflammation. The vet says it’s either epilepsy or head trauma from a fall. It’s looking more and more like head trauma and possible neurological damage. We are waiting now to see if it cures itself or not. If not, there’s not really any hope. For now she had a cortisone shot and is on some kind of doggie anti-seizure medicine. We’ll be back at the vet tomorrow morning.

I never dreamed I would spend so much heart and time praying for a puppy. In the last two weeks, she has become part of our family. Please join us in praying for her recovery. In the meantime, we’re pampering her as much as possible (although still trying not to give in to whining). Here’s the bed I sewed for her with the sewing machine Tim gave me this week.

Last night Miriam and some other ladies from my church here in Arequipa were sitting around discussing their plans to visit all the women of the church in the next two months. They go in 2s (like the disciples, they said) and drop in on people in the mornings. They stay for 1/2 hour to 1 hour usually, see how things are going for the person, and pray for her. Miriam says it has made an incredible difference in the church. I can imagine that if I were down and out (or just fine, for that matter), I would be touched and honored by a visit. It connects the women in the church to one another, fosters community, starts a chain of expressing love that I expect continues past that visit, gives people a chance to share about their lives. "Going visiting" goes beyond the after-church-coffee talk.

Why is it that visiting one another seems unattainable in the United States? Are we really so busy that we can't give a little time to one another? And wouldn't God be honored by the offering of our time? Could it be possible? Could we make it possible? Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another-- and all the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:24-25

PS Cultural note: Miriam told me that they absolutely never announce their visit. If they were to call ahead, the hostess would be "required" to clean up the house and prepare something for them to eat.

What a day! At 4 pm I (Hannah) tried to go to an Al-Anon meeting listed on a pamphlet I picked up in the Al-Anon office in Lima. It was supposed to be Quinta Romana #105, but I couldn't find it. There were no numbers between 104 and 108. At 5 I tried to go to another meeting, but found out from someone in the office building that the meeting ended nearly 2 years ago. Hmmmm. I think I'd better call the office and ask for a contact person. Anyway, at this point in our Peruvian journey, I was neither surprised nor frustrated.

Tim had an appointment at 7 pm at a sports clinic in town for a second opinion on his cast. They agreed with him that it was unnecessary and potentially harmful and rented him a boot to wear instead. As I write, he is in the middle of cutting off his plaster cast with wire cutters. Visit to the specialist: $17. Renting the boot: $5/day. He will also start physical therapy tomorrow, which they say will have him recovered in 10-12 days. Wow! Physical therapy: $5/hour. Again, neither of us are all that surprised by the fact that his first doctor gave him a cast for his sprained ankle, even though we have heard again and again from others that that kind of treatment is antiquated.

To celebrate we went downtown for a drink. The chalkboard outside Istanbul, a fun Turkish sandwich shop and bar, said they had Happy Hour specials- 2 drinks for 10 soles ($3). It sounded good until they brought me two mojitos and Tim two cuba libres (along with some tasty falafel). As it turned out, I think they were all about 1/2 strength, so it wasn't a big deal. Nonetheless, a surprise. Ah, Peru! Land of surprises!

I would like to take a moment to praise Randall Dean Fink. He begged me to be permitted to go through my mail while we were overseas and although I was excited to have such a willing secretary, I was a bit nervous. After all not receiving/dealing with certain mail in time can lead to some disatrous situations and I'm bad enough handling it when I receive it directly.

I couldn't have been more pleased. It turns out he cares more about my mail than I do. I receive weekly emails listing the important mail I've received along with scanned documents of everything I need and best of all I don't have to sort through or open anything. I hope to use his home address for the rest of my life even if I'm living next door to him. Thanks Randy.

On a side note, please do your best to inform him on the safety and benefits of international baby travel.

Today I finally experienced 3rd world medicine first hand. I fell on my ankle this morning and twisted it while playing soccer. I had to be carried off the court and after resting for an hour and my ankle tripling in size, I had to be carried back to the house as well. In general I hate going to the doctor but I've never had a leg injury, couldn't even hop on one foot and my ankle looked pretty scary, so I gave in and went.

Highlights of the Peruvian Medical System:

• It's a la carte. You tell them if you need an x-ray, what kind of doctor you need and if you want the cast now.
• Pay as you go. X-ray, doctor visit, materials, cast - each paid for seperately throughout the process.
• Go with the least common denominator. I'm not really sure I needed a cast and the doctor didn't examine me for more than 10 seconds. He touched my ankle till it hurt, said it was broken, looked at the x-ray and said it wasn't broken but that I "compromised the ligament" which I'm not real sure what that means. But there's no harm in a cast so why not go for it.
• Multitask whenever possible. While Hannah was buying the cast and materials (including the doctor's rubber gloves) another patient entered the room with a needle and medicine, took off his shirt and the doctor administered a shot right in front of me.

The cost of medical care:

• x-ray $3
• doctor visit $5 (I think we paid for this twice by accident)
• putting on the cast $8
• cast and materials $7
• prescription medicine $2.50

The whole time I felt I was in the DMV getting my licensed renewed and in the end, the process took only 45 min and cost a little over $25. We still have to rent/buy crutches which are only available at one particular hospital. I'm not in much pain and I'm improving my hopping skills by the minute. I have to wear the cast for 15-20 days and can either take it off myself or return for another $5 doctor visit.

Here are two of my favorite Peruvian ladies- Abuelita and Taza. They are really taking a liking to one another I think.

Abuelita, by the way, has to be the most fit 81-year-old I know. Yesterday she showed us some of the exercises she does in her daily morning class at the gym. I never knew she was so fast or flexible! I think she has Tim beat with her windmills and toe-touching.

You probably know that in lots of languages, nouns have gender that doesn't necessarily have much to do with how girly or masculine they are. In Spanish, for example, a dress (el vestido) is masculine but a tie (la corbata) is feminine. I learned today that men and women have some friendly arguments over what this all might mean.

• Women will be sure to tell you that all problems (los problemas) are masculine, and all solutions (las soluciones) are feminine.
• Men will mention that love (el amor) is masculine. Women will respond that hate (el odio) is too.
• Women boast that life (la vida) is feminine. Men retort that so is death (la muerte).

Another fascinating fact about the language that I learned this week is that much of the slang in Peru is derived from rearranging the order of the letters of a word. Sometimes they lose a syllable in the process.

• Beach: playa becomes yapla
• Bathroom: bano becomes noba
• Shirt: camisa becomes mica
• Pants: pantalon becomes lompa
• Lady/M'am: senora becomes norsa
• Cop: boton (button) becomes tombo

Doesn't that seem like a game you might play in 5th grade?

Her name is Taza (dah-sah), which is the Spanish word for teacup. Here she is with a bag of coca tea to show her size. She has been sleeping most of the day so we are a little worried that she's getting all rested up for a wild night. We'll see. She instinctively knows not to "go" in her crate, so she wakes us up a lot to get out and use the box of newspapers by her bed. I guess I'd rather have that than her making a huge mess in her crate for me to clean up.

For now, we've been taking her with us to school (where she sleeps during our classes), and I usually just carry her in my purse. We get lots of "Que liiiiiiindo!" and always a few people wanting to know if she is real. She looks a lot like a stuffed animal really. Diego asked today (as a joke) where we put the batteries.

I think she's out to be the most socialized pet in the world. She's getting to know a lot of people and places as well as the two dogs in our house, Chovis (something like a hot dog) and Sally (boxer). They are both fascinated by her, and as soon as Sally sees her, she starts slobbering like crazy. She must want to bathe her or something. It's a little gross, but I'm glad to have some affectionate dogs around to show her the ropes.

A note about COCA TEA since it's in the photo. This is just about the national drink of Peru. It's made from the coca leaf, which is also the source for cocaine. Because of that, it's illegal to bring any back to the US, either in leaf form or tea bag form. The coca leaf is somewhat of a miracle drug here. Either chewed or in tea, it helps with digestion, altitude sickness, fatigue, and a number of other common local ailments. It doesn't make you high in either of those forms, by the way. We drink it a few times a day probably. "Real coffee" is not too common here (more Nescafe), so it's a good alternative.

Here are the highlights from our last few weeks while my (Hannah's) mom visited and we traveled on the weekends.

LIMA: Not much of a highlight, but we did see a few interesting things and eat at two stellar restaurants. One was Astrid y Gaston, owned by the South American celebrity TV chef Gaston Acurio. The other was Huaca Pucllana, an open-air restaurant overlooking pre-Incan pyramid ruins. Wow. We also had a chance to taste some of Peru's fame: pisco sours and cuy (guinea pig).



PUERTO SUPE: A short-term team arrived the day we did so Mom got the "tour": the beach, the sandals microenterprise, Monica and Margot's cafetin. She also got to see my new house and meet my team and my Puerto friends.



AREQUIPA: I saw a lot of Arequipa's tourism highlights for the first time while Mom was here. We also toured the Monasterio de Santa Catalina by night, which was a real treat. More Peru dishes tasted: rocoto relleno (stuffed spicy pepper) and alpaca meat.



SACRED VALLEY: For the first time in Peru, I saw some green! The Sacred Valley of the Incas is everything I thought Peru should be- mountains, rivers, green . I think our taxi driver/ guide was half-senile but we managed to enjoy ourselves anyway.



MACHU PICCHU: What can I say? I'm still overwhelmed by the experience. I think more than the ruins, the mountains were what stole my heart. If only I could have a house there!



CUZCO: We had a brief visit here but enjoyed the terra cotta roofs and beautiful artwork. Unfortunately it was rainy and Sunday morning, neither of which made for a great time.

Surprise! We have a puppy! We have been planning all along to get a medium/large guard dog and a small friend for him or her, maybe a little poodle that we will not groom like a show dog. Well this morning we saw a precious toy poodle and after asking our host family again, bought her! I can hardly believe it's real. She is the softest, sweetest little thing ever.

Here's what we have learned so far about toy poodles. They grow to be about 10 inches tall and no more than 7 lbs (smaller than miniature poodles). Right now ours weighs about 1 lb. They are very smart, telepathically intuitive, and easily trained to do just about anything (think circus). They're good watchdogs although obviously not good guard dogs. If you don't shave their bodies or faces, they stay puffy and soft and won't ever look like the poodles with bracelets and pompoms on their tails (ours has a clipped tail and ears anyway).



The only problem now is what to name her. Originally we were thinking of naming the dogs as a pair: Abbott and Costello, Merry and Pippin, Sherlock and Watson. There is always Don Quijote and Sancho Panza. Then we could shorten one to Don-Qui (although no one here would get the joke). My other thought is naming both or one after something here, but so far I can't think of anything good except maybe Oui/Ouisita (two of Abuelita's nicknames).

SO we need some help ASAP. Please comment or email to tell me what good names you can think of for our precious little (female) dog!

Hannah just asked me who Abbott and Castello were and I couldn't even begin to think about knowing how to answer that question, I just had to show her. So those of you who don't know who I'm talking about, watch the video. I believe my mom gave me a video of this for Christmas one year and I still laugh till I cry everytime I see it.

Ten minutes ago I was lying in bed with the lights off attempting to fall asleep when my phone (which is also my alarm clock) beside my ear started vibrating and ringing. When a man started speaking to me in Spanish, I first thought it must be Cesar and was a little confused in general. Turned out it was Mom's cab driver who had made a wrong turn and was trying to figure out how to get to the South America Mission Guesthouse. I guess I explained it well enough because five minutes later he called back again (I think after he dropped her off) to ask me if Mom had wanted him to return to pick her up at 5:30 am or pm tomorrow! Glad he called. That sort of detail matters.

This is all good news for my progress in Spanish. I have never been so hot at talking on the phone in Spanish (heck, or English for that matter) and talking long distance about driving directions with someone I don't know had potential to be a real disaster!

Today Tim and I got new schedules. He finished grammar classes last week and started today with 2 conversation classes. I added a grammar class to my existing conversation class. One day in, I'm pleased with how it went. I think my teacher understands my issue: that I can explain all of the information, but I need practice working out the finer details without having to think (so that I can say things correctly and not just write them correctly).

Mom left today on the 3:55 flight to Lima. I haven't heard anything yet, so I'm assuming she made it safely there. She is staying overnight and leaving at 7:50 am to return to Greensboro. I'm sad to have her go. I expect the next few days will feel lonely before I again get used to the idea that Tim and I are here on our own. I guess one thing I have learned is that loneliness provides an opportunity to grow in intimacy with God. When I feel alone, it's because I'm living with limited vision and forgetting His presence.

I still intend to give a report of our trip when I have a chance to breathe, but for now I want to mention one thing that impacted me during the last two weeks. It didn't hit home until I was reading my Bible on the plane yesterday and came across Jesus' criticism of the Pharisees in Matthew 23: Everything they do is done for men to see.... [but] whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. All of the sudden I was acutely aware of my desire over the last two weeks to convince everyone around me that I am not a tourist. I'm too embarrassed to explain all the ways I have attempted to do so, so let it suffice that I have clearly been counting on the wrong things to lend me value and self-worth. What is so intrinsically valuable about not being a tourist? Why would the fact that I speak Spanish make me immediately more than someone else?

To know my value as a daughter of God is to find a peace that sets me free from self-exaltation. How I long for that kind of confidence and security.... The truth is that I can't drum it up for myself. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, humility, and self-control. Galatians 5:22-23

Saludos de Aguas Calientes--

We arrived outside Machu Picchu today on the train from Cusco. The town ("Aguas Calientes" translates to "Hot Waters") looks somewhat like a ski town for hippies and tourists. No skiing of course. It sits at the feet of several tremendous mountains, almost in a deep and narrow ravine really. Breathtaking. Tomorrow we will visit the Machu Picchu ruins themselves.

I’d like to describe our time here in the sierra in detail later, but I wanted to mention two things today. One is that I had the spiciest food of my life for lunch today. I could barely eat any of it and certainly didn’t want to after the first explosion hit my tongue. Tim had a bite and let loose more than one tear. I think that was two hours ago and my lips are still tingling. At the time there was no “tingling” about it. It was just pain. We tried everything on the table to satisfy it- beer, sparkling water (the worst), lemonade (the best), guacamole, steamed vegetables. Nothing really worked. I was considering drinking the garlic sauce that went with the bread (already eaten) but decided against it.

Second, yesterday Tim found something he has been searching for since we arrived: artisan pottery for dishes in our new Puerto Supe home. In a whirlwind tour we picked out 8 dinner plates, 8 little plates, and 8 bowls from this beautiful and charming ceramics shop/ studio in the Sacred Valley. It came recommended by Lonely Planet and for good reason. The dishes really are works of art, coordinating but not matching, colorful in an earthy Peruvian way. I know we will love them always, and that if and when we leave Peru, they will be a lifelong reminder of the joy we have found here.