9/11 Outsider

Now that it’s been 10 years, it seems like everyone wants to know “where were you on 9/11?” Well, here’s my story:

On September 11, 2001, I was in Peru. I spent that day on a boat in Lake Titicaca, to be exact, which has a hilarious name and is the lake with the highest elevation in the world. It was a gloriously sunny day, but not hot, and I fell asleep and got really sunburned.

On the drive back into Puno, we saw brightly-colored Peruvian newspapers with pictures of burning buildings and large lettering indicating that there had been a plane crash in New York, and and some hours later we learned that the U.S. had been attacked – what?? It did not seem possible that something so terrible had happened back home. Shouldn’t my spidey sense have told me something was wrong? It all seemed very unreal, and it was only after exchanging e-mails with friends and family that I believed it. The events of that day did not even mess up our return flight – we were not scheduled to go home until 9/20, and by that time the flights were back to normal.

A close friend saved newspapers and a videotape of the events that day, so I could watch it when I got home. I hadn’t even seen the attacks all the way through at that point, and didn’t really understand the sequence of events. I watched the tape, and tried to imagine being in Seattle on that day, rather than 5500 miles away. I pictured hearing about the airplanes on NPR when my alarm woke me up, and going to turn on the TV. I imagine that I would have grabbed a phone to call my loved ones, and curled up on the couch with a blanket to watch in disbelief.

I will never be a part of the collective 9/11 experience. I will never feel the initial uncertainty of not knowing if it was a mistake or an attack or even a hoax. Maybe because I didn’t see it live, and I wasn’t around for 9 days following to watch the 24-hour news coverage, I was somewhat distanced from the panic and fear that has led to so many changes in our lives – some small (like NFL players wearing flags on their helmets) and some large (like the erosion to civil liberties). Intellectually, I understand all of the issues, but my emotions are less acute then they otherwise might be.

I ache for those who have lost loved ones, both on September 11 and in the years following, as a result of the wars or terrorism or illness caused by being a First Responder. I am grateful not to have been a witness to the events 10 years ago, but I also feel like I missed out on something. I am a bit of an outsider.

Peruvian food

I love Peruvian food. Mostly. There is a pot-roast-type dish called “seco de cordero” or “seco de res” with cilantro, that is divine, and potatoes in cheese sauce called “papas a la huancaina.” Spice is generally mild, potatoes and quinoa are common, soups are delightful and salads are rare.

Unfortunately, guinea pig (cuy) is also a delicacy. So much so that there is a painting in Cusco’s La Catedral (the Main Cathedral) of the Last Supper featuring cuy:

Anyway, I managed to avoid it until I was invited to a 15th birthday celebration for Alejandra, the daughter of the housekeeper/cook who worked for my landlord (during my first 6-month stint in Peru I rented a room from one of the administrators of the school where I worked). The party consisted of the two parents, four kids, and me in their one-room home on the outskirts of town. I should have known when I saw the guinea pigs running around on the dirt kitchen floor, but I was too naïve.

When dinner was served, there was a lovely stuffed green pepper and an entire guinea pig on my plate. Head and everything. Staring up at me, its scrawny little roasted paws sticking up. Oh, dear, I thought, since I immediately knew I was at serious risk of insulting them horribly if I didn’t eat it. As the only guest, I was the only one with a whole animal, too – the kids each only had half a guinea pig. I would be insulting them AND wasting their valuable food. I have to tell you though, I couldn’t. I took a couple of bites and washed them down with Inca Kola (a very unique beverage – kind of a bubblegum-flavored soda), but it was tough and stringy and gamey. I finally figured that not eating it was better than throwing up. When I left for home, there was some talk about “we’ll have to have you over again” but the Señora kindly added “next time, we’ll have chicken.” 🙂 They were SO gracious with my gringaness.

Two of Alejandra’s siblings

The birthday girl and her parents