Caraz Dulzura- Back Home To Peru

Talk about super. extremely. delayed. blog posts. I went to Peru this summer! It was one of those weeks where my dad was working, my mom had left me to go to Utah, and Jessica and the babies were in Kennewick. So I turned to my baby brother Bruce and asked him if he wanted to skip LAX practice and go to Peru for the week. Casual. (Important note: I can only do this because my Dad is an airline pilot, my bank account will prove that to you.) 

I mainly wanted to go down and see my bestest and favoritest and most beautifulest Peruvian. JUANAIRIS TE QUIERO DEMASIADO. We were companions in Cusco for four and a half months and it was by far the most hilarious and magical time of my mission. We didn't have a single baptism during those cold months but I had never been happier. She taught me to be kind and sincere and did I mention how much we laughed? Life was golden. 

That's why I had to go down south and see her. WHAT A WEEK. Now for a picture overload. 

Laguna de Parón. This alpine lake is honestly the most gorgeous place I have ever been to. That is not even an exageration. That's the natural color of the water! 

We flew to Caraz from Lima and my heart swelled back to it's Peruvian size. It's like my whole soul expands to fit the entire country in a giant hug. That makes no sense but it's all I could imagine as we flew over the Andes. Fun Fact: When Bruce saw this plane he got a little nervous and asked, "are we flying in that thing?" 

This picture captures our celebrity moment. We were walking through the Yungay ruins and were stopped by these teenagers as they took about 200 pictures of us. You can tell by my mega-watt smile that I was soaking it up. As a middle schooler I always longed to be famous and this was my moment of glory! Another round of pictures for all! 

Did I mention that I am in love with this woman? 

Bruce was the best travel buddy. He couldn't speak a lick of Spanish and yet he had this smile plastered on his face the entire time. And did I mention that Peruvian ladies dig Bruce Man? 

This was at the ruins of Yungay. It was a village that was completely buried by a major landslide. All of the children had gone to a circus outside the town limits and were saved. Not much is left besides some crumpled buildings and this one-walled church. Does anyone notice my artistry of including a lone child in the photo? National Geographic are you looking at this?  

We spent an entire night dancing our hearts out in the living room to wayno, salsa, and cumbia. The whole family was dying of laughter from my dance moves. Somewhere in Peru there are a million videos of me dancing like a local. 

They say you can still hear the trapped souls of Yungay below the earth. I like to think that they're all safe with their Savior in heaven. 

We went to the Falls of Honkopampa with the young single adults. Why can't I be this popular in America? 

Bruce and Javier became the best of friends, despite the major language barrier. 

Javi wanted to take us to see "the sights" in Caraz. The only touristy thing they have in their town is a tiny little museum that boasts the TINIEST MUMMY IN THE WORLD. It's so small! How long is one supposed to look at it? I mean, it's the SMALLEST in the WORLD so it deserves some respect. Is 30 seconds enough?

Caraz! I forgot how much I loved roaming the streets of Peruvian villages. I have a feeling I may find myself moving back to Peru eventually... 

JAVI! Mi amor! This boy is crazy. He speaks about as fast as a squirrel on speed and goes out of his way to trip on things that aren't even in his path. 

Is it just me or does my body look completely broken here? It's like when Harry gets attacked by the Ossio Dispersimus spell and loses all the bones in his body. That Peruvian lady behind me totally did it. 

We ended up going to Paron on the lake's independence day from money-sucking gringos! There was a big celebration with bands and cheap food and some men trying to take a raft around the lake against a killer headwind. The banks were covered in food and flowers as a gift to... the lake Gods? I missed the part where they actually said what this was all for....

Can some Gringo go down and marry this woman and bring her back here to be my next door neighbor? Please?

I love Juana for many reasons. One of the big ones is that she slaughtered some of her own cuy to make me my favorite meal! Guinea Pig is delicious and don't bash it unless you've tasted it. 

His tiny little hand! Bruce had no idea what to eat. He repeatedly would whisper, "where's the meat on this thing?" 

Some of my favorite moments from the trip were walking the streets with Bruce and telling him about my mission and the Peruvian culture. We would stop to buy little treats like Beso de Mozas and Inka Cola at almost every corner. They're the type of moments where you want to bottle them up and save them forever and ever.

Canyon del Pato. What a sketchy place. They're a series of long, one-way tunnels that wind through a canyon with 500 foot walls jutting up on either side of you. We begged Ivan to take us in his moto taxi and I wish you could hear our screams at the moment I took this grainy picture. A one way tunnel with no lights! Where were the city planners on that one? 

Adaluz took us to get shaved ice that comes directly from the glacier. I was all gung-ho until I saw this guy dish up my ice with his long black fingernails. Just part of the experience, I suppose. 

Let's just take a moment to appreciate that swim pools in Peru have ropes that go across every five feet because no one knows how to swim. 

Due to some poor planning on my part and some severe disorganization on the part of Peruvian airports we had to take a nine hour bus ride to Lima. It's not a true South American experience without the nasty buses and only having 2 soles to share a soda. 

Words really can't capture how grateful I am for the opportunity to be reunited with my best friend. Having international friends is hard but the reunions are so sweet. 

And JUANA! Dear, sweet, kind Juana. I think it's safe to say I stole her heart and she stole mine. She couldn't resist my charming gringa-turned-latina ways. And her cuy! It's to die for. 

We spent hours chugging along in this moto taxi screaming Enrique Iglesias songs at the top of our lungs. 

Te amo Peru! 

Hermana Llacsa came and picked us up at the bus station in Lima. Guys, I am so terrified of that city. It gives me ulcers just being in it for a couple of hours. Luckily we got to the airport safely (thanks Llacsa!) and devoured some pizza. 

Welcome to America. 

First time on first class baby! If I was rich I would never ride with those coach peasants again. 

Back in Oregon! 

If you made it to this point in the post then I applaud you. This may not be witty or entertaining but I also don't get paid to blog (probably because I don't post pictures of my outfits or have perfect babies) so I will not apologize. Long live Peru! Hopefully I will be hightailing it there again veerrrrryyyy soooon. 

The Atonement Room

How is it that humans in general tend to forget about the more important things in life? We get into this one-track state-of-being that only allows us to see the here and now. We are eternal beings, children of an all-knowing and all-powerful God who loves us and has provided a Savior, Jesus Christ, to carry us back to our heavenly home. So why is that I forget my best friend and Redeemer in the flurry of school assignments and weekend plans? How is it so easy to disregard the one person that I owe everything to? 

This summer when Elise and I were in Italy we spent an entire day perusing the works of art in The Vatican. My pretentious and pompous little self was so excited to see all of the famous paintings I had studied in school. We followed the swarms of people streaming through the exhibits like little guppies. These paintings were so huge and intricate! You could take hours staring at one painting and not see all of the hidden symbols and details in every stroke of paint. Everyone around us was taking time to say smartsy things in varied languages about the works of Raphael, Michelangelo, and da Vinci. 

We had just finished studying Raphael's School of Athens when we decided to follow the river of humanity to the famous Sistine Chapel. Everyone was in a rush to get there, and so the tiny rooms and exhibits on the way were only casually observed. In everyone's haste a tiny little room was generally overlooked. I will call the place The Atonement Room. It forever changed the way I see Jesus Christ and his loving sacrifice for all of humanity.

The Atonement Room is small, basically a small passageway. It would be so easy to walk right through it and not look up. On the ceiling is a very small depiction of Jesus Christ in The Garden of Gethsemane, atoning for the sins and pains of every individual that has ever lived, lives, or will ever live. An angel is offering him "the bitter cup" of suffering. He is about to perform the greatest and most selfless act in the history of any kind of history. He is about to pave the way back home to our Heavenly Father. 

Elise and I stopped for several minutes in reverent silence. In that moment I was remembering the most important thing, and that was that I have a Redeemer who loves me. I've suffered from imperfection my whole life (haven't we all?) and I desperately need someone to pick me up, clean me off, and show me how to be better. That is what Jesus Christ is to me. He is not some myth from The Bible, He is my reality. Because of Him I can hope for a better future for all mankind. Because of Him I have faith that everything will work out, even when it doesn't seem like it will in this lifetime. 

As we were pondering our love towards Christ and the beauty of His Atonement we looked around, hoping that others would stop and be filled with the same joy and gratitude that we felt. To our dismay we noticed that the majority of the throngs of people walked right through The Atonement Room, not even pausing to glance upwards. 

That is when it hit me. How many of us wander through the passages of life focusing on the frivolous and forgetting to look up? There are billions of people living and breathing across this world at this moment and most of them do not know about or do not care that there once was a man named Jesus Christ who gave everything to heal them. Those people in The Vatican were rushing past the most beautiful and monumental event ever to occur. They failed to see that this life only has purpose because there is a hope of becoming better through Christ. 

Now, I know that there are many people who choose not to see Christ as their Savior. I respect and love these people deeply. But just because the people failed to see The Atonement Room for what it really is in The Vatican DID NOT make it non-existent. For those who stopped and for those who didn't the reality was the same. The painting was there whether they wanted it or not. 

We all have a Savior. I know He lives. I have been broken so many times to count and have felt the healing power of Christ's Atonement. The depth of it is profound. He is the Great Medic of Souls. I truly believe that to my very core. He loves us and has given us a choice to accept his beautiful gift to us. I pray that I may be humble and strong enough to rely on Him and His greatness and mercy. 

Happy Sunday. Happy Day. 

Musings Of A Janitor

If you don't know that I am a janitor from 5 AM to 8 AM at the Tanner Building it is because you have lived in Nepal for the past 3 months or something. It has become apparent to me that I tell e v e r y b o d y about my job. Everyone. People who help me carry my bike up the stairs, cashiers, people in class... It seems to slide into all my conversations with people, not importing the original subject. I seem to wear it like a badge as if to pridefully say; I. DO. HARD. THINGS.

But if you haven't been a victim to my complain-a-brags, here goes.

I'm an early morning janitor.

Hahahahaha. Or I was, before I quit 4 days ago. Hallelujah!

And there are soooooo many things I've learned whilst you've been sleeping. Hang on my Pad Wan, this is learning time.

~ First, I learned that I am the type of person with the If-I- Can't-Sleep-Nobody-Can mentality. And because of this I always sent my friends and family members selfies of me taking out the trash with a urinal in the background.

~ The urinal pictures segue into another gem from my lifetime of knowledge... urinals are theeeeee most disgusting things ever. If my future husband asks if we can get one I will pee all over the floor and walls and say, "there. no need to get one now because I already fulfilled it's purpose." But really, the truth is that men have terrible aim and I refuse to clean one of those germ thrones again.

~ My Dad and I have the completely founded belief that we are the only truly sane people in the world. Exhibit A: My coworker who wouldn't come to work 60% of the time and the 40% of the time he was there would sing SHOW TUNES at the TOP OF HIS LUNGS at FIVE IN THE MORNING.
Exhibit B: Every person at work who liked to quote movies in Russian accents or start small talk long before the break of dawn.... NO. NO MORE COMMUNICATING, OKAY?

~ Something worse than Capital Punishment is vacuuming. As a child my beloved Father would make me vacuum over and over again until the lines on the carpet looked orderly. He also chased me around with the vacuum when I would be playing Barbies during clean-up time. Basically, the only real trauma I received as a child was the result of a vacuum. Why I would pick a job that involves doing it every day is beyond me.

I know this Let-Me-Tell-You-About-My-Job post just turned into a whiny complaining mess, but can we just observe all the chairs I had to vacuum under??? Imagine all those getting caught on the vacuum! The pain! The annoyance! The heart break!

~ Okay enough aggravating griping about all the things I didn't like. Honestly, my favorite task of the day was taking out the garbage. There was such a fulfilling aspect to it. Sometimes I would be on the verge of skipping work when I would sit up quickly in bed and think, "But the garbage! It will be overflowing onto the carpet and people will suffer! I must get up!" It was true. For some reason Business majors seem to eat an absurd amount of 5 dollar pizzas from Little Cesar's and the smothered burritos from The Blue Line. They may be rich one day but they'll have a buildup of MSG and clogged arteries as well.

~ Sad to say, but there were moments when I would come down with the Maid-In-Manhattan Syndrome. If you haven't seen Jennifer Lopez in that pivotal role, it's about a hotel maid who thinks she isn't good enough for a rich Senator guy. Sometimes I would actually feel inferior to the suit-clad men and pencil skirt wearing women who would come into the study rooms while I was cleaning the whiteboard and say, "ummmm.... excuse me? we reserved this room for a highly top secret and important presentation about stocks and robbing the common-man."Then I would be ushered out by their annoyed gazes and start thinking, "look at me. just a lowly janitor. what would it be like to be in the business school with sleek hair and briefcases?"

Then reality would set in. "GET OUT OF HERE MAID-IN-MANHATTAN SYNDROME! I actually am a student at the Business school! All my classes are in this building and they are not better than me." As my Dad once told me, "there is nothing undignified about working Alex. you should never be ashamed of contributing to society, however small it seems."

And if that little pep talk couldn't shake that false sense of inferiority I would remember finding this in the men's bathroom and know that at least I don't play basketball while pooping at school. Maid in Manhattan, indeed.

~One of the best parts of my job were the three hours I would have to listen to General Conference everyday. Coming back from a mission is a time of uncertainty and bouts of unexplainable sadness. I think it's like a mild version of PTSD, you feel displaced and confused. The time I had to wander the empty halls of the Tanner Building listening to the words of living Prophets and Apostles gave me comfort and guidance. It gave me hope for the future. It allowed me to dream up new dreams and to see the new role that God wanted me to take on in the world.

My oh my. I am so happy that I am no longer an early morning janitor. I get my full 8 hours of sleep required to be emotionally stable, I have energy to do everything I need to, and I feel so free! But I am so grateful for the things I learned and most of all I am glad that I CAN DO HARD THINGS, THANK YOU. May you never spit gum in the drinking fountain or look down on custodial workers, or draw on tables with pens.

The sign I basically worshipped as I passed it every morning.