Acostumbrando...

Acostumbrar. If I were to simplify the entirety of my goals, hopes, and aspirations during my Peace Corps experience into one word, this simple Spanish verb would pretty much sum it up. Despite my attempts to adequately convert this into English, any translation falls short. In my eyes, acostumbrar can mean to become integrated, to get used to, to become comfortable; in essence, to become part of something. So, you may ask, after two years of new experiences, frustrating challenges, and successful projects, why is “acostumbrar-ing” still the focus of my thoughts and actions? Life in Peace Corps depends on becoming accustomed to your surroundings, understanding the dynamics of your community, and embracing a new and very distinct way of life. I strongly believe my personal happiness and sense of fulfillment stems from integrating into a new environment. In all my life I cannot remember a more overwhelming experience than when I first arrived in Poroto. As I climbed off the combi I knew this rural 1200 person Peruvian town would be home for the next two years. I was left to fend for myself: to find work, make relationships, and form a new life for myself. Knowing no one, having little guidance over my work plan, and still stumbling over Spanish, the tiny town somehow felt immense.

I refused to recognize any lingering sense of doubt, and instead decided to embrace this new adventure and jump in head first. Wasting no time, I decided I would dedicate my first months to meeting as many people as possible and gaining as many new experiences as possible. Every day was a new adventure, with new challenges to overcome and different cultural barriers to tackle. I immediately fell in love with my sunshiny new town, accepting its many glaring imperfections along with its endless possibilities. Before long, I was invited to family lunches, danced at town parties, and greeted by name as I walked down the street.

Despite my initial love for Poroto, I certainly wasn’t “acustombrar-ed” to this crazy new life. For months the early morning donkey brays startled me, the enormous portions of rice and potatoes overwhelmed me, glaring poverty disheartened me, and strange Peruvian customs besieged me. However, I slowly found myself taking part in the activities I first found so bizarre. I loved eating a huge bowl of chicken soup with chicken feet for breakfast, I found it normal to sit in the town health post with stray dogs at my side, and started to throw Peruvian slang into my Spanish vocabulary. Every conversation with a Peruvian inevitably began with, “¿estás acostumbrando?” to which I confidently responded, “¡claro que si!”

Now, over a year and a half later, as I come back from the chakra with my host family covered in dirt and carrying large sacks of fruit or enter the school to resounding shouts of “Senorita Kelsi!”, people in my community now comment with a knowing smile, “ya, estás acostumbrada.” My sense of normalcy has shifted entirely, and I’ve come to understand the deeply rooted societal customs of Poroto and Peru in general. I worry that when I go back home my less than socially acceptable Peruvian tendencies will continue, and I’ll end up sucking on chicken bones at the dinner table, bathing only a few times a week, or aggressively waving my hand to get someone’s attention. However, in all seriousness, I have been adopted by my community as a pseudo-Porotina and I consider Poroto my second home. As much as I sometimes like to think I’m Peruvian, I’ve come to realize I will never fully “acostumbrar.” My American roots run deep and I will never understand some intricacies of the Peruvian culture (for example; how an open window or a fan is a sure cause of the flu, but heavy drinking for hours out of a shared cup poses no sanitary concerns). However, the bizarre beliefs or lifestyle choices are far outweighed by the many cultural habits I’ve come to deeply appreciate. Peruvians are warm, generous people; no matter how little they may have, they share it without reservation, keeping me well fed with heaping plates of food and freshly picked fruit. All Peruvian women seem to have the incredible talent of miraculously producing ample food for anyone who may unexpectedly show up at their doorstep or arrive late to a party. I’ve learned to take myself less seriously, and come to realize there is never anything so urgent that I can’t take the time to stop for a quick chat and a good morning smile with the senoras I pass on the street. I’d like to think that in my time here in Poroto my community and I have simultaneously “acostumbrar-ed” to one another; slowly learning more about the other and becoming more comfortable as we share, laugh, and experience life together.