"It’s just like making homemade pasta!"
This morning, for the very first time on this trip, I woke the kids up in the calmest, gentlest way possible. No trumpets, no mental math, no loud cheering.It was so surprising to them that they actually jumped out of bed faster than usual, convinced that something must have gone terribly wrong!
If you look at the average stats from all our mission trips over the years, Day 4 or 5 is usually when we lose our first volunteers to a bug. I was hoping we might magically escape it this year, but you simply can't outsmart the unwritten rules of group travel. Throwing teenagers onto international flights, bringing them up to 2,000 meters in altitude, and putting them through days of intense physical labor takes a toll. It is completely physiological that a few will eventually need a rest day. That being said... the fact that one of our two sick volunteers was walking around outdoors late last night in a t-shirt with wet hair, proudly showing off his new Peru jersey in the crisp mountain air, probably didn't help! So, we headed to work with a team of 24, leaving our two resting volunteers at home to recharge with warm tea and rest.
When we arrived at the care home, we learned that the whole group had an unexpected bonus break. It turns out that yesterday's blackout wasn't just in our neighborhood, it hit the entire city of Arequipa! This slowed down the evening prep work for the specialized workers, meaning they needed a bit more time this morning to set up for our concrete pour. They told us it would take "about 30 minutes." In Peruvian time, that translates to 1 hour and 15 minutes in European time! But nobody complained; the kids soaked up the extra rest. Once everything was ready, the giant concrete mixer roared to life. Its loud, rhythmic hum became the soundtrack of our entire day. Everyone was stationed at the construction site: the mix masters: loaded raw ingredients into the mixer: water, sand, and heavy bags of cement. "It’s just like making homemade pasta!" some of them joked; the two chains: One human chain carried heavy buckets of raw materials to the mixer, while a second chain carried buckets of fresh, heavy concrete up to the roof. The morning flew by at a relentless pace. We stopped for a quick lunch, jumped straight back into the rhythm, and by afternoon, we had successfully completed our entire goal for the day. The second half of the roof pour awaits us tomorrow!
I introduced you to Peruvian bureaucracy a few days ago when talking about the orphanage permits, but behind the scenes, we’ve actually been battling bureaucracy for three full weeks.
A month ago, the wonderful brand Save the Duck generously donated 2,200 winter jackets for us to distribute to communities in need here in Peru. Last year, we delivered a similar shipment without our volunteers, so we were thrilled at the prospect of handing them out together with our volunteers this year. However, Peruvian customs had other plans. They put every department of the donor company through an endless maze of paperwork, requesting obscure documents and delaying clearance week after week. Throughout this trip, the kids kept seeing me constantly on the phone. The running joke of the week became: "Any news from customs? Are the jackets coming?" Finally, after massive efforts, the shipment was cleared! But by a razor thin margin of just 36 hours, the jackets will arrive on Sunday, the exact day we fly to Lima. At first, it felt disappointing, but looking back, it was providence in disguise. If the jackets had arrived earlier, we wouldn't have had enough time to finish our part of construction at the care home. Someone up there knew what they were doing! Because of this delay, we can dedicate tomorrow (the 24th) to completing our construction work for the abuelitos. Then, early on the 25th, we will set off for the magnificent Colca Canyon to explore Peru's iconic landscapes, with the kids eagerly looking forward to showing off their new Peruvian "Patagonia" fleeces in the chilly canyon air! And rest assured, those 2,200 jackets will still reach the families who need them most very soon.
After updating the kids on our final schedule, which caused an immediate wave of excitement, we gathered for our second round of small group discussions. The topic built upon yesterday's reflection: suffering. There is no need to dissect everything that was said in those circles. Suffice it to say that addressing topics like pain, loss, and personal struggle in a safe, loving group setting is transformative. The kids realize they aren't alone in their burdens. They learned that it's okay to show vulnerability, to lean on someone else, and to give their struggles a name rather than bottling them up. They learned how to normalize pain, put it into perspective, and heal together.
A personal note: As the father of a young daughter, watching these teenagers open up gives me a profound reminder of how crucial it is for us parents to be present. Not overbearing or smothering, but simply being a steady, unconditional anchor, making sure our children know that no matter how big or small their burdens are, they will always have our unwavering support.
With all the mystery around the final days' schedule finally cleared up, dinner was filled with a contagious, joyful energy. The highlight of the evening was celebrating Rosa’s birthday! Knowing how much everyone loved yesterday's rich chocolate cake, we ordered the exact same one for the group. But thanks to some top secret insider intelligence provided by her friends, I knew that Rosa isn't actually a big fan of chocolate! So, as the group broke into a loud rendition of Happy Birthday, we surprised Rosa with a second, private fruit cake made just for her.
Tomorrow will be our very last day of work in Arequipa. It will be an emotional, intense day as we complete our final tasks at the care home and say our ultimate goodbyes to the abuelitos who have captured all of our hearts over this unforgettable week.
