Invisible Luxuries

In the United States, we lead blessed lives. We lead such blessed lives, in fact, that we are not even aware of how blessed we really are. It is not until we leave the comforts and conveniences of home that we begin to realize that those things which we take for granted are really luxuries – invisible luxuries of which we are completely unaware. This will (hopefully) be installment #1 of a list of luxuries that I will (ambitiously) continue to supplement throughout the year. The following list of luxuries large and small, serious and funny, is an attempt to help you recognize and appreciate those things which are so often taken for granted.

Conversation

Many of you who know me probably have some (hopefully) endearing words you use to describe me. I have been called boisterous, ebullient, loud, and ever-delightful to name a few appropriate ones. To many I am known simply (and accurately) as a talker. On the Myers-Briggs personality scale, I am about as strong of an ENFP as you can get, which means that I need to (and will, without fail) discuss my thoughts and feelings with any fool who pauses long enough for me to get started. You may or may not be surprised to learn that it is very difficult to be a talker in a second language. While my Spanish is not terrible and continues to improve (I think), I cannot express myself. I cannot express any complex ideas, concepts, or emotions beyond “my head hurts,” or “yes, I like your soup.” The simple act of intelligent and reciprocal conversation may be one of the things I am suffering the most without.

The bathroom shared by the family.

Toilet Seats

Chances are you have never thought of a toilet seat as a luxury. In fact, you probably haven’t given much thought to toilet seats at all, save for when an annoying family member leaves the seat up. In Peru, however – or at least in Huancavelica – it is a rare experience to find a toilet with a toilet seat. And believe me, when you are at 12,000 ft, trying to stay warm in frigid temperatures, and suffering from bowel issues, a toilet seat would be an absolute luxury.

Toilet Paper

I was recently mocked by a friend who found a roll of toilet paper in my backpack. My defense (a valid one) was that I was a Seasonal Park Ranger for the Cumberland Trail and must always be prepared. Yes, you may point out that I worked in the office and had ample access to indoor plumbing, but you never know when you might find yourself on an unexpected hike and needing to avail yourself the natural facilities or start a difficult fire. Here in Peru, however, one must always have toilet paper on hand. No public or even semi-private bathroom (including the bathroom in our office) will provide toilet paper. My personal roll of toilet paper has certainly come in handy. Who’s laughing now?

Anonymity

I am a white, 22-year-old, upper middle-class, well-educated woman. I would be lying if I claimed to be anything but. In the United States, I am not unusual – in fact I am part of the status-quo. If I take my personal laptop with me to drink a deliciously expensive coffee at Starbucks, I blend in. If I go to Kroger to buy processed foods from everywhere but Tennessee, I blend in. If I go to Wal-Mart or to a restaurant or for a walk…if I go anywhere, really, I blend in. I am anonymous. Never would I have imagined such anonymity to be a blessing, a luxury. In Huancavelica, I am not anonymous. I may be, in fact, the only white person in the city. I am stared at, talked about, and called to wherever I go. Children pull each others arms, eagerly whispering “Mira! Una gringa!” It is exhausting. I miss already the luxury of having the anonymous freedom to go, do, and be.

My family's kitchen

Personal Space

One of the most selfish luxuries I have realized I am missing is that of personal space. I have begun to realize that, in many ways, personal space is a North American luxury – one we are addicted to. We all have our own “personal bubble” (which expands radially to include personal bedrooms and vehicles and, sometimes, other people) that we often guard fiercely against intruders. Don’t touch me unless I touch you. In Peru, every person is greeted with a single besito, small kiss, on the cheek. It is embarrassing to admit that this is a difficult adjustment for me, opening myself for (what I consider) an intimate greeting with people I have never met. Additionally, my bedroom here is smaller than my family’s laundry room. As a result, I am learning how to redefine the boundaries of my personal space and how to recharge my batteries in the family room with three-year-old José sitting on my lap, belly-laughing at the TV.

Hot Water

After taking my second cold (and by cold I mean frigid) and first lukewarm (and by lukewarm I mean cold) shower in the Andes Mountains, I have one request. Recognize and appreciate every drop of hot water you use. Whether you are washing the dishes, taking a shower, washing your face or clothes, remember this – hot water is a luxury that many in the world simply go without and many in the States simply can’t live without.