After over four years of dreaming and wishing to come back to Huancayo, at last I stood in the queue at Madrid Airport in front of the screen brightly proclaiming 'Lima'. I felt nervous then, and not only for the 12 hour flight. Going back to Peru after four years was to go into the known and unknown, unsure which was which. What would have changed? Would the people I'd met and loved as family have changed, and who else would I meet? How much had I changed in four years?
I first went to volunteer in Huancayo when I was 18 years old in the summer between the end of school and the start of university, and wrote about my experiences here. Since then I hoped to go back, and had the opportunity when I was 20 during the Easter holidays in my second year of university, which I wrote about here. Before I'd started volunteering in Huancayo, I'd been to Lima every two years or so to visit my mum's family, and in later visits had travelled to Cusco and Iquitos as well as exploring more of Lima. To go for four years without visiting Peru was therefore unknown, and at times it felt as though I was missing a part of myself.
So why did I wait so long?
In my third and final year of university, I had little time to travel, managing a week in Venice during Easter. The following summer, as a recent graduate I was low on funds and spent some of my holidays backpacking across Bavaria with friends and a short break on the beach in Spain, as well as attending mental health courses and becoming a Mental Health First Aid instructor. I then started my postgraduate studies, which involved a week in India attending lectures delivered by the WHO and visiting mental health centres. Shortly after that I started an internship at a mental health hospital, where my food and housing was covered, and when that ended I focused solely on my studies and delivering mental health courses for free to charity staff through the local government. Consequently the following summer I was still penniless, and managed to escape my dissertation for a week to travel around Spain with my mum and grandfather when he came to Europe for the first time. The following autumn I returned to India for my final exams and viva, and spent an extra week after graduation travelling around North India. When I returned, I started an internship in social services administration where all of my pay went on travel fees for my daily commute from Coventry to London: the following summer I took a few days off work to collapse on a beach in Spain before returning to the job I loved but tired me out. When that ended, after a fruitless jobsearch in UK I was offered a job as an English language assistant at a primary school in Madrid, which I started in January this year. For the first time I was earning a salary that allowed me to save a little after rent and food, and with school summer holidays free from work, the first thing I did when I received my first month's pay was to finally book my plane ticket to Lima.
And now, the plane was here in front of me. When I walked off it 12 hours later, I'd at long last be in Peru. Still with mixed emotions, and bearing in mind my mum's sound advice when I shared with her my worries to "Stop philosophising and enjoy myself, and remember that life is a tapestry made up of my own and others' experiences," I began the final leg of my journey to my home away from home.
I first went to volunteer in Huancayo when I was 18 years old in the summer between the end of school and the start of university, and wrote about my experiences here. Since then I hoped to go back, and had the opportunity when I was 20 during the Easter holidays in my second year of university, which I wrote about here. Before I'd started volunteering in Huancayo, I'd been to Lima every two years or so to visit my mum's family, and in later visits had travelled to Cusco and Iquitos as well as exploring more of Lima. To go for four years without visiting Peru was therefore unknown, and at times it felt as though I was missing a part of myself.
So why did I wait so long?
In my third and final year of university, I had little time to travel, managing a week in Venice during Easter. The following summer, as a recent graduate I was low on funds and spent some of my holidays backpacking across Bavaria with friends and a short break on the beach in Spain, as well as attending mental health courses and becoming a Mental Health First Aid instructor. I then started my postgraduate studies, which involved a week in India attending lectures delivered by the WHO and visiting mental health centres. Shortly after that I started an internship at a mental health hospital, where my food and housing was covered, and when that ended I focused solely on my studies and delivering mental health courses for free to charity staff through the local government. Consequently the following summer I was still penniless, and managed to escape my dissertation for a week to travel around Spain with my mum and grandfather when he came to Europe for the first time. The following autumn I returned to India for my final exams and viva, and spent an extra week after graduation travelling around North India. When I returned, I started an internship in social services administration where all of my pay went on travel fees for my daily commute from Coventry to London: the following summer I took a few days off work to collapse on a beach in Spain before returning to the job I loved but tired me out. When that ended, after a fruitless jobsearch in UK I was offered a job as an English language assistant at a primary school in Madrid, which I started in January this year. For the first time I was earning a salary that allowed me to save a little after rent and food, and with school summer holidays free from work, the first thing I did when I received my first month's pay was to finally book my plane ticket to Lima.
And now, the plane was here in front of me. When I walked off it 12 hours later, I'd at long last be in Peru. Still with mixed emotions, and bearing in mind my mum's sound advice when I shared with her my worries to "Stop philosophising and enjoy myself, and remember that life is a tapestry made up of my own and others' experiences," I began the final leg of my journey to my home away from home.
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