Compilation of diary notes, etc. on Jujuy

"You're going to Jujuy?" Marcos asked me. "You know that's the second best province in Argentina?"

"Oh yeah? What's the first?" I asked. "Buenos Aires?"

"First is Salta, you salt-a, and then you say Jujuy!" (Obviously better translated in Spanish, but I enjoyed the pun. Saltar means "to jump", and Jujuy is pronounced as "hoo-hoo-ey". Sort of like "Wee!")

Roadtrip to Jujuy: Sitting next to two boys who truly do not know the meaning of enough. At least they are small and I had much more space to sleep compared to the trip to Chaco. (But honestly, not so bad being next to them. They're still growing, and brothers fight. That's life.)

Saw it on the way back, too. Bazinga.

Riding with a family also means stopping. Stopping to make our initials in the salt plains; stopping for a 2 hour lunch with an old acquaintance; almost stopping to see a momma pig and her chanchitas on the side of the road.

Thoughts on Jujuy: I have a strange sense of calm here. My dreams are tranquil and vivid. When we drove down the main street I kept thinking about how much it reminds me of Krasnodar, Russia. Why don't more main streets have a central walking zone? And of course, a seasoning of 1960s Sanz Peña with every Warhol-color-palette inspired store sign.

The ministry is volunteer-based. I came to share my life with those I meet, and to serve Raúl and Andrea with whatever they might lack. I call this old school missionary time. Look for the needs of the church and put your hands to the wheel. Sometimes you need a plan, sometimes you bring just enough money to get you where you're going then start praying to God to get you (safely) back.

Have I mentioned that I gave all I had brought with me to help pay for gas?

Moments from Saturday: Antonio (momentary father figure for the weekend) made toast for me and even brought out goat cheese, from a family friend's farm, to share.

I have been asked on more than 7 occasions whether or not I am the daughter of Andrea. She makes it clear with everyone that it's because I look so young and not that she looks so old. hehe.

Right after the morning worship my name was called twice. Once, by Luis, who comically would call me "Semilla" (means "seed") when he didn't feel like saying my name correctly. The next, by Jor, who was playing "In the Light" and wanted to make sure that he got the English words correct. This was followed by "Cuan Grande es Dios" which we sang together--I in English, he in Spanish until the final chorus sung in Spanish. Pretty cool. Then he played another song which I recognized but could not remember until the very end. Everyone by this time was singing along and that's when it clicked: "Because He lives... I can face tomorrow..."

Who wouldn't love hanging out with this kid?

Instead of utilizing my only free time to nap, I taught Daniel the basics of "Heart and Soul" on the old house piano. How he made me laugh as he would talk so rapidly to gain the courage to continue. Praying to the Lord, even leaving his place from the piano to fall to his knees and raise his arms, "Dios. Por favor! Ayudanos a hacer tres veces. Sólo tres veces te pido!" We had a routine to touch a small cross, touch a heart and swan decor sitting atop the piano. I kept thinking about how beautiful was this shared moment that I could have missed.

The nights have been what I've always imagined for revivals. We perform short evangelical dramas followed by Raúl's sermonettes. An invitation calls up a small group forward and they pray. A line forms to receive blessings from the pastor; people share their hearts with the rest of us.

I was surprised by a small attack of pre-adolescents when I entered the nightly meeting. They all wanted to sit with me and give me their jewelry. "Now you have to remember me," said Priscilla. They make me smile on the inside as well--knowing how I can just be a servant to them during the youth group meeting during the early afternoon--then set an example of listening to the good news in the evening.

Then comes Sunday: LOCRO!!!!! Locro is a typical South American dish made especially for the winter months. It's a corn soup with meat. And well, Lent is over, so let the carne begin!!! hehe. Actually, the meat is what got me into trouble. We had an all-church Easter lunch (as seen to the left) of locro, and my plate lacked meat. I asked for a little more, but specified that I just wanted la carne. Instead, she plopped another bowlful into my already overflowing bowl. When I couldn't eat it all, everyone looked at me, jokingly, "You know, a good missionary will eat all the food in front of her." So I joked back and switched plates with someone else.

That evening was one in which I was overwhelmed with joy. The music was just the right mix: Te Pertenezco, Al Rey Hosanna and From the Inside Out (of course in Spanish), that I had a great urge to dance. So I got my ahem.. posse.. to join me in some basic moves while we sang. They all laughed at goofy me, but I didn't mind.

We enjoyed more locro for dinner. Regrouping at the church to say our goodbyes and praise God for a great three evenings. I was blessed to walk with Quuime and we sang all the way: Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna in the highest... It was fun to hear her accent, she did not necessarily know the words, but the sounds the words make.

Back home: I enjoyed Jujuy because of the people. One evening in the plaza with Marisel. All the days with the Iriartes enjoying conversation. Plenty of laughter during the drama rehearsals. An afternoon with around 50 preteens playing crazy games.

Los Iriartes

Then again, I also thoroughly enjoyed the landscape.
Seeing the mountains every day (and not just in certain parts of town) brought back the Colorado views I loved most. The town is small enough to see the stars at night too--something I utilized during an evening run.

To the right is a typical road trip picture with the Huertas. You've got your bag of criollos, your very necessary yerba for on-the-road mate, and a buena vista. Tropical covered mountains. Mmm.. I look forward to coming back, Lord willing!

Chau.