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One week ago today, I was saying goodbye to that one country down south and preparing to return to that bigger country I call home. Around this time last week I was waiting in the Lima airport with my teammates for our flight. We had just returned to Peru’s largest city after a week of galavanting around the country. We said ciao to Nauta, spent the night in Iquitos, flew out the next morning to Lima, and hopped on a 24-hour bus ride to Cusco. When we arrived in Cusco, we spent the rest of the day exploring the city, including the beautiful Incan architecture and the hectic street markets. The next morning we took an hour long train ride to the village of Machu Picchu, and the day after that was spent hiking up over 2,000 steps to experience the wonder of…

One week ago today, I was saying goodbye to that one country down south and preparing to return to that bigger country I call home. Around this time last week I was waiting in the Lima airport with my teammates for our flight. We had just returned to Peru’s largest city after a week of galavanting around the country. We said ciao to Nauta, spent the night in Iquitos, flew out the next morning to Lima, and hopped on a 24-hour bus ride to Cusco. When we arrived in Cusco, we spent the rest of the day exploring the city, including the beautiful Incan architecture and the hectic street markets. The next morning we took an hour long train ride to the village of Machu Picchu, and the day after that was spent hiking up over 2,000 steps to experience the wonder of…

Thus begins my Ode to Nauta: Nauta (pronounced now-tuh) is located geographically south of Iquitos, the rainforest’s major city. After flying into Iquitos from Lima, Nauta can be accessed by a two hour bus ride down Peru’s bumpiest jungle streets. Upon arrival, little buggy’s that look like the offspring of a motorcycle and golf cart populate the small roads. The streets are cluttered with trash and small structures made out of old wood and tree leaves that serve as homes and sometimes restaurants. In the center of town, there is small square with a fountain that doesn’t work and a hospital that charges just seven soles to be seen by a doctor ($2.18 USD). There are street vendors and store owners that have kept us fueled and fed these last seven weeks. Nauta is…

Thus begins my Ode to Nauta: Nauta (pronounced now-tuh) is located geographically south of Iquitos, the rainforest’s major city. After flying into Iquitos from Lima, Nauta can be accessed by a two hour bus ride down Peru’s bumpiest jungle streets. Upon arrival, little buggy’s that look like the offspring of a motorcycle and golf cart populate the small roads. The streets are cluttered with trash and small structures made out of old wood and tree leaves that serve as homes and sometimes restaurants. In the center of town, there is small square with a fountain that doesn’t work and a hospital that charges just seven soles to be seen by a doctor ($2.18 USD). There are street vendors and store owners that have kept us fueled and fed these last seven weeks. Nauta is…

This morning, as I prepared breakfast for fifteen people, I contemplated the toast I was making. Toast is delicious and a delicacy for us jungle folk, but it requires lighting our propane stove and spending 45 minutes grilling it. As I flipped each piece in a skillet, I contemplated a huge advancement for mankind: what if there were some sort of automatic machine that would toast your bread for you? It was in that moment I realized I’m never taking a toaster, or any other appliance, for granted again. I also realized that in two weeks, I will be back home with all my old comforts, hoping to embrace them differently than I ever have. I have been rudely awakened to the vast differences between America and the Amazon Rainforest of Peru. Despite the differences that I could spend…

This morning, as I prepared breakfast for fifteen people, I contemplated the toast I was making. Toast is delicious and a delicacy for us jungle folk, but it requires lighting our propane stove and spending 45 minutes grilling it. As I flipped each piece in a skillet, I contemplated a huge advancement for mankind: what if there were some sort of automatic machine that would toast your bread for you? It was in that moment I realized I’m never taking a toaster, or any other appliance, for granted again. I also realized that in two weeks, I will be back home with all my old comforts, hoping to embrace them differently than I ever have. I have been rudely awakened to the vast differences between America and the Amazon Rainforest of Peru. Despite the differences that I could spend…

The bugs are relentless. The gnats delight in covering us with their kisses; we are left drenched in rosy splotches with blood circled centers. The mosquitoes rise after rain, swarming our shelter and sneaking in through the open areas we weren’t able to cover with netting. I’m convinced they’ve been training their whole lives for this, for the moment when 14 gringos would so willingly present themselves in their territory for two months. They draw blood out of all areas: thumbs, foreheads, necks, pinky toes, anything uncovered. The red ants say hello by leaving a burning sensation on the exposed areas of all available feet. If you’re not left looking like you have some sort of fifteenth century viral infection all over your skin, you’re not doing it right….

I’m currently sitting on a boat on the Amazon River listening to “Colors of the Wind” from Pocahontas. What a coincidence. This place is magical. The people, the smells, the food, the smiles. People say that everything is bigger in Texas.. but they have obviously never been to the Amazon. Everything here is ridiculously big… except the people, who I’m pretty sure average out to be maybe 5 feet tall.  We have tarantulas in Oklahoma, but they are like Amazon tarantulas’ baby cousins. You think you’ve seen a big cockroach in your lifetime? We saw one last week that was as big as my hand. I used to see a bug and run away screaming, fanning my hands in the air. Now I say, “Bring it on,” and flick it away casually like a boss. So, as I sit here listening to Colors of the Wind (it’s on …

By the time that I’m able to post this, we will have completed our third week of village ministry here and be just shy of having only two and a half weeks left in Peru altogether. It’s crazy to think about how much time has passed. On one hand, it feels like I’ve been living on this farm for an eternity. I’m no longer petrified when I see a tarantula making its way across the inside of our tin roof, and I’ve made my peace with the fact that no matter how often I’m able to shower (which, if I’m being real, is usually every 3-4 days), I will feel clean for approximately two minutes afterwards before I’m covered in mud and sweat from the hike back up the two steep, often slippery hills to our home. The things that were once uncomfortable have become the new normal, and from holding seven-f…

The bugs are relentless. The gnats delight in covering us with their kisses; we are left drenched in rosy splotches with blood circled centers. The mosquitoes rise after rain, swarming our shelter and sneaking in through the open areas we weren’t able to cover with netting. I’m convinced they’ve been training their whole lives for this, for the moment when 14 gringos would so willingly present themselves in their territory for two months. They draw blood out of all areas: thumbs, foreheads, necks, pinky toes, anything uncovered. The red ants say hello by leaving a burning sensation on the exposed areas of all available feet. If you’re not left looking like you have some sort of fifteenth century viral infection all over your skin, you’re not doing it right….