Of Love and War

That seems to be the theme for Peru these days. For me, it's all about the love. Never-ending connections with different friends, family, and ninos. I feel it coursing through me, as a heat that is so very vivid. It feels unbelievable.
But this huelga continues, and it is rough. But it is the right, the very right to debate this, to gain their respect, as my dad says, for what they do is so very great. Yet, when this violence devolves to what it has become, it hurts so many. I understand their end, but to the means to which to gather it, I am pensive.
But that is just the context. What is happening day to day, for me, is still a dream. It is still all about the love.
It was too much on Friday. I haven't cried here, although sometimes of wanted to, not out of missing home or feeling lost, but for others. For what is so difficult for so many of the children I see here, and the families we are trying to help, is what is so basic--living day to day. And it is hard for me, as you know if you're reading this, because I feel through other people, and what they are going through breaks my heart. I want to do more, but this is my plight, and I have only this to do, nothing more. And however much I try to do it great, to love to my fullest, it is still so very hard, because there is so much left to do.
I worked at the Foundation's site at Lima's orphanage on Friday. I don't know what the words are to describe, my English is failing me, but it's liek there was a bubble of joy, at least in mmeory, that surrounded me once I opened the gates and entered the complex. Children running up to me, laughing, wanting to be held, me throwing them all around, faking to be dead, them trying to bring me back to life, a simple act of recess but so beautiful, "No te mueras, no te mueras!" Being with the children in class, telling them how smart they are, laughing with these most beautiful of children I've met so far. They were so pure and kind and their love was raw and vibrant, and a tear came to my eye. I was sitting next to the first student, helping as I usual do with the activities, and as she was placing beads on a necklace, matching the color pattern already given to her for the exercise, I lost focus for a second. And my mind drifted to her life. She is all alone. She has love from these teachers, but will grow up with this lost.
And a tear came to my face. It was very hard, but it just made me want to be present and be there all the more. I walked around with Jorge and Paola, met the kids, played with them, saw their smiles, and I was so fulfilled. It really was as you said, Bradford, a boy with the imagination to choke Raold Dahl, hair flowing side to side, picking up each child and throwing him, then the next, then the next. On a grass field by the sea. In an orphanage in Lima. The sun peeking through the clouds ever so slightly. Surrounded by love.
You just have these moments here, and you can't put your finger on it, but it's there. And it breathes life into you, it breeds purpose into your soul, and it is something so new and amazing.
Saturday felt just the same. I was escorted around Lima by my mother's son (truly, in more ways than one, my brother.) With my niece and I, we went with him, drove along the coast, joking, laughing, listening to regaton, a look in his eyes of youth and kindness. He was a child at heart, just like me.
Oh, and on top of it, what was the purpose of the trip? Shredzone Peru. Shreddaggggee. Shred dead. Shreddage.
So I couldn't go to Chicamac this weekend, because the city is closed off as a result of the huelga, the strike.
I was bummed, but this man, Mario, a man of my heart, and his niece, an incredible smart and shretastic 14-year old girl, lifted me, to shred heaven. We went to Puerto Viejo, an hour south of Lima, and I surfed with Mario, next to this huge cape, huge rocks, and caught 3 monster lefts, about 5-6 footers each. One was 4. And it felt so great, to be there, back on the board. Back with the ocean. It's so tranquil and revitalizing for me. And so freaking knarlliciousss!!!
We got off the beach, had a beer, drove back in ecstasy, met up with his family (the way they treat me, I should say my family), and I had the most delicious steak I've ever tasted. From Argentina, with love, it made me poop a little bit.
What a day. What a weekend. What a time here in Peru. I miss you all. Love you so. Un abrazo,
Walt