I’ve tried to write about the last several days, but each time I end up just staring at my computer screen. Each day is packed with new experiences, and it’s impossible to capture everything. I can’t seem to do it justice. So instead of trying to record each day’s events, I’m going to try to focus on one particular aspect of life here for each post. Maybe it will become easier to describe each day after I’ve been here for awhile, and everything isn’t new anymore, but for now, I’ll start small.

The Light and Leadership volunteers live in a 3-story house in a section of Huaycan called Zone D. It is by no means a wealthy area–it is probably right on the poverty line–but it is certainly more comfortable than living in other areas of the city. We teach classes on the first floor of the house and live on the second and third floors. Volunteers are regularly coming and going, but this past week we’ve had eleven people living here. There are 3 bedrooms with two bunk beds in each, plus two single-bed rooms for Lara and Luz.

I share a room on the second floor with Sara, a fellow Trinity alum, and Clare, a 71-year-old woman from New York City. Kristin, Amy, and Meg are in the room next to ours, and Matt, Andres, and my dad share a room on the third floor. The house has two tiny bathrooms, although only one of them has a working shower. So yes, that means 11 people are sharing one shower. You can imagine all the bottles on the floor….and how quickly the bathroom turns pretty disgusting.

The water in the house flows from a tank, and the tank regularly empties. When that happens, someone has to fill the tank again by knocking a metal valve on the outside of the house with a long metal pole, then knock it back about 5-10 minutes later. Thankfully the tank has yet to empty during the middle of one of my showers. Hot water is only available for the shower (you have to press a button in the bathroom about 10 minutes before you shower in order to get hot water), which at first didn’t seem like that big of a deal. A few days into my stay, though, I realized that all the cleaning–dishes, clothes, the house–is done with cold water. I try not to think about it.

Another thing I haven’t gotten used to yet is the fact that there are no toilet seats. It’s as though a guy always goes to the bathroom before me and forgets to put the seat down. Even more upsetting is that we aren’t allowed to flush any toilet paper. It all goes into a garbage can. Lara claims that I’ll get used to it–she even caught herself throwing away toilet paper at home–but I’m not convinced.

Having said all that, we are very blessed to have a woman clean the house six days a week. Queta (pronounced “KAY-ta”) is super nice, which is amazing since she cleans up after us every day. Our feet and shoes are always dirty since the roads are made of dirt, not concrete or asphalt, which makes her job a never-ending one. Her graciousness is truly amazing.