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Archive for the ‘futbol’ Category

We´ve been living in Peru for almost  a month now, and in addition to throwing rocks at dogs and manipulating an electric shower, Kelsey and I have had to learn to ignore a variety of compliments when walking around town.

To be totally fair, I don´t think it requires a whole lot to get whistled at in Peru. Today I was wearing the dirty clothes I taught in, a raincoat, and sneakers, but from the comments I got on the street I might as well have been hanging out in a bikini. As I said, it doesn´t take much.

The problem is that Kelsey´s height and my hair are pretty uncommon here. Even Peruvian men rarely reach more than 5´10, so Jarrard, let alone Kelsey, are pretty much considered freaks of nature. Our host mom finds Kelsey really useful for reaching high shelves in the kitchen.

And in Ollanta, hair only comes in one color: black. The kids in my fifth grade class were convinced I dyed my hair. I explained that no, in the United States hair comes in many different colors. They then asked if Kelsey dyed her hair. I´m not sure they understood.

So we´ve gotten used to ignoring whistles from strange men and deflecting awkwardly constructed English sentences saying something to the effect of ¨Beautiful lady. Where you from?¨ Most of them mean well, and unless they´re drunk we don´t think much of it.

We´d been told that it´s considered really indecent for girls to wear shorts here, and it´s true that you never see any female wearing anything above the knee, except for the confused-looking tourist. We thought this is because it´s so cold here, and this might be true. But I also think it´s because the Peruvian men would absolutely not even know what to do with themselves.

The funniest experience we had was in Cusco. The three of us were walking in one of the shopping districts and there was a man handing out fliers for something. He´d clearly been passing out the papers on autopilot, and started to hand us one, when he did a double take and actually started freaking out. It was the most enthusiastic ¨BEAUTIFUL LADY¨ I´d heard yet. I thought he was going to fall over. Kelsey and I started laughing hysterically, which didn´t seem to be the reaction he´d been looking for.

It seems to be more culturally acceptable to hang out on street corners and whistle at girls than it is at home. It´s particularly bad when we go to places where tourists don´t usually frequent. We discovered we were very popular at the futbol game among fans in the bleachers. Jarrard wants to join the Ollanta soccer team and play goalie. We think they´ll let him join if we promise to attend games.

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I really should gone to teach English and P. E. in a country where I´m not completely terrified of the two primary sports played by the children.

We´ve learned that in Peru, futbol is for boys, and volleyball is for girls. This is bad news for me.

I am, quite frankly, petrified of both sports. I blame Arturo Gomez for kicking a soccer ball square in my face during recess one day in the third grade. I remember the weather that day, what I was wearing, and how entirely unremorseful he looked after he did it. I have had a fear of large balls flying toward my face ever since.

Middle school P.E. was big on volleyball, meaning I became unskilled at soccer and flat-out terrified of volleyball. There is a reason you hear a loud smack when the ball makes contact with arms: it hurts. Serving is fun and not very painful, but no team will let you hang in the back and serve every time, as I´ve come to find out.

So I came to Peru thinking I´d just kick the soccer ball when it came towards me and hope for the best. Wrong. In P.E., the boys run behind the school with a futbol and play games among themselves, while the girls pull out the volleyball in the grassy square in the school courtyard and expect you to join in.

Let me tell you, these girls are damn good. I thought I could use shortness as an excuse for being a less than stellar volleyball player, but since I´m considered almost tall by Peruvian standards, that doesn´t fly anymore. I am by no means a volleyball expert, but these tiny girls are diving all over the place, and the ball stays in the air a lot longer than it did when I was in middle school.

Kelsey and Jarrard, both being six feet tall and distinctly not petrified of volleyball, are pretty much considered athletic gods by the girls. We´re thinking of telling everyone that they´re actually U.S. volleyball champions. I think people would find that pretty believable.

So I muddled along in fifth grade P.E. today. I stuck to serving for as long as I could, before one of the girls gave me a dirty look and clearly told me to rotate. Shoot. In forty-five minutes, I hit the ball twice, once onto the roof and the other towards Jarrard´s feet. I´m convinced I heard the girls on my team trying to decide where on the court I would be the least detrimental. It was a little demoralizing, but I was proud of the ball that went on the roof. It had a good bounce to it.

In the third period of the day, the more athletic teachers and the best sixth-graders held an intense match while the rest of the 150 kids ran wild in the construction site. I graciously let Kelsey and Jarrard represent for the three of us, and I was in charge of documenting their athletic prowess.

But next week, fifth-graders, watch out. I might actually send a ball in your general direction.

Dilmar, better known as ¨bucket boy,¨is best known for his exploits in the construction site.

Dilmar, better known as ¨bucket boy,¨is best known for his exploits in the construction site.

The kids were thrilled when Jarrard´s hat came off.

The kids were thrilled when Jarrard´s hat came off.

... and even more thrilled when it went back on.

... and even more thrilled when it went back on.

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Took a leap of faith and lent the camera to a responsible-looking kid.

Took a leap of faith and lent the camera to a responsible-looking kid.

Adorable little devil.

Adorable little devil.

Three fifth-graders.

Three fifth-graders.

Watching the game.

Watching the game.

The teachers get in on the action.

The teachers get in on the action.

Watching the game.

Watching the game.

This girl loved the camera. Her little brother not so much.

This girl loved the camera. Her little brother not so much.

I think this is someone´s little sister who tagged along for kicks.

I think this is someone´s little sister who tagged along for kicks.

Arguing a point.

Arguing a point.

Because the teachers are playing volleyball, supervision is non-existant. Jousting with bamboo and dancing on sawhorses was popular.

Because the teachers are playing volleyball, supervision is non-existant. Jousting with bamboo and dancing on sawhorses was popular.

They have their game faces on.

They have their game faces on.

Going all out...

Going all out...

The scorekeepers. Pretty much the only math that went on that day.

The scorekeepers. Pretty much the only math that went on that day.

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Team Mania

Today Kelsey and I went to a futbol game down at the estadio in town, where the local team hosts games against other teams from the province.

We knew that our host father, Feliz, is a big fan of futbol. Last weekend he went to Cusco with ¨his team,¨ but we just assumed he´s a rabid fan who didn´t want to miss a game. Being UNC basketball fans, team mania is something we understand.

But when we got there, the two girls who cook and serve in the family restaurant were collecting money at the gate. They let us in for free. Sweet!

But when we took our seats and saw Feliz down with the team on the bench, we began to think that maybe the term ¨Feliz´s team¨ wasn´t just an endearment. It´s actually his team. Cool.

Ollantaytambo won, 5-0. We were pretty proud, and Feliz has been beaming all day long. Ollanta´s playing Machu Picchu on Sunday. We´ll be there. After all, we´re pretty much living with the Ollanta equivalent of Roy Williams. Gotta represent.

The team. Too bad they don´t wear Carolina blue.

The team. Too bad they don´t wear Carolina blue.

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