by Monica Brown
Chapter Three
San Martín Elementary School
Dear Diario,
Tomorrow I’m going to a Peruvian elementary school with my aunt Lola. I can’t believe she’s the principal, because she’s nothing like the principal of my school at home. Principal Blot is serious, and Tía Lola is always smiling. Principal Blot gets mad at me sometimes, and Tía Lola never does. But Principal Blot is a lot nicer when I go over to her house to play with her son, my super best friend Josh. Mom says that Tía Lola is one of the youngest principals ever, but she is so amazing that they put her in charge of the school!
Shalom,
Lola Levine
We have to wake up very early to get ready for school because it is on the other side of the city. Tía Lola makes café con leche different from Mom. Mom uses fresh milk, but Tía Lola uses evaporated milk, sugar, boiling water, and a teaspoon of instant coffee. After we eat an egg over rice and some delicious Peruvian mangos, Ben and I get into Tía Lola’s bright red van and drive to la Escuela San Martín de Porres. Tía Lola drives super fast! But it seems like everyone else in Peru does, too.
“There are so many people!” Ben says, looking out the window.
“We have almost ten million people living in the city,” says Tía Lola, honking at a car that cuts in front of her.
“How many zeros are in ten million?” asks Ben.
“Seven,” I say.
“That’s right,” says Tía Lola.
“Know-it-all,” Ben says from the backseat. “But I bet you don’t know who San Martín is, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” I say, and give Ben a glare.
“He’s a saint! He helped the sick and the poor,” Ben says. “Tía Lola told me!”
“I guess I’m not the only know-it-all,” I tell Ben, and he smiles.
When we finally get to the school, I’m a little surprised, because there isn’t a big playground with grass. The school is set up sort of like a square, and in the middle of the square there’s a big dirt field.
Tía Lola must be reading my mind because she says, “This isn’t a rich school, and we only have running water for a half hour twice a day. We spend money on books, not grass. Don’t worry, though. The kids play soccer out here at recess.”
I think about my school with the big playground and the green field where we play soccer and tag. I want San Martín Elementary to have those things, too.
We walk into the building, and everyone says, “Buenos días, Directora Valdez.” Directora means “principal” in Spanish. It always surprises me to remember that Tía Lola is Dolores Valdez. Valdez was my mom’s last name before she married my dad. I once asked her if I had to change my name when I got married, and she smiled and said, “Only if you want to.”
Tía Lola takes me into the second grade classroom and introduces me to the teacher, Mr. Sánchez.
“Welcome to class, Lola,” he says in Spanish. “I’m Mr. Sánchez.” He then waves me to come forward and introduces me to the rest of the class.
“This is Lola Levine. She is Directora Valdez’s niece. Let’s all welcome our new friend to San Martín,” Mr. Sánchez tells the class. I’m surprised when the students start clapping and smiling at me.
One of the students says, “Hola, Lola!” and then everyone starts saying it. I like the way it sounds. One of the things that I notice is that a lot of the students are wearing bright green sweat suits. They almost look like soccer warm-up suits. Others have on green sweaters.
“Why do they match?” I ask Tía Lola quietly.
“The students all wear uniforms at our school—they have formal uniforms and sweat suits,” Tía Lola whispers. “And if students can’t afford to buy them, we provide the uniforms for free. This way, everyone looks the same and nobody worries about what they wear.” I think about the times I’ve been teased by Alyssa Goldstein and Makayla Miller for being different or weird, and I think uniforms might be okay, especially if they look like soccer warm-ups!
“Have a seat here between Lucia and Lucas,” Mr. Sánchez says. I say good-bye to Tía Lola and walk over to the chair.
“Have a good morning!” Tía Lola says. “I’ll see you at lunch.” Then she takes Ben’s hand and says, “Ready to meet the kindergartners?” He looks a little scared and doesn’t say a word until Tía Lola winks at him and says, “Can you give me a super-strong Ben-style high five?” And that’s exactly what he does.
I sit down, and it seems like the whole class is looking at me.
“Where are you from?” a girl asks in Spanish.
“The United States,” I reply.
“I’m Lucas,” the boy on the other side of me says. “That is my sister, Lucia.” They look a lot alike.
“Hi!” Lucia says. “We’re twins.”
“Wow, it must be fun to have a twin,” I say.
“Most of the time,” Lucia says. “Do you like soccer?”
“Do I like soccer?” I repeat, laughing. “I think it is the best game in the whole wide world.”
Then both Lucas and Lucia say, “You can be on my team!” at the exact same time.
Mr. Sánchez calls the class to attention and starts talking about the math lesson. Mr. Sánchez talks really fast! I’m glad we are doing math first because numbers translate across languages—and schools—very well.
“Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooal!” Lucas yells as our team scores. I’m on Lucas’s team because they needed a goalie. Everyone is running and yelling and going for the ball, and it’s super fun. We kick up dirt and dust in the middle of the square and nobody cares. Not everyone is playing soccer. Some kids are standing in a circle playing a hand clapping game and others are just running around yelling. At first I don’t see Ben anywhere, but then I realize he’s in one of the run-around-yelling groups. That’s my brother.
Lucia takes a shot, but I stop the ball.
“Good try,” I say.
“Not good enough,” she says, and two minutes later, she scores against me. I don’t think I’ve ever met a player as competitive as me. I wonder if she likes to write, too? After a while, Tía Lola finds us in the square and takes us to her office for lunch. I don’t really want to leave my new friends, but I do want to see my tía Lola.
We are hot and dusty when we walk into the main office, and it’s nice to feel a gust of cool air. There is an air-conditioning unit in the office, but nowhere else in the school. It wasn’t too hot in the morning, but now that the sun is out, I wonder how hot the classrooms will be.
“Well, what do you think of our school?” Tía Lola asks us.
“It’s amazing!” says Ben. “Listen! I can say my ABCs in Spanish now, after only one morning. Except it’s called the abecedario here.” Ben starts singing. He doesn’t seem to want to stop, so Tía Lola and I start eating.
Lola Levine
Ms. Garcia’s class
Report #2
Fútbol/Soccer
Fútbol (the Spanish word for “soccer”) is the most popular sport in Peru and South America. The Peruvian national team is called la Blanquirroja, “the white and red,” the colors of the Peruvian flag. The 1930s and the 1970s were the golden ages of Peruvian soccer because the team won a lot, but I hope there is another golden age in the future. I want them to score lots of gooooooooooooooooooooals!
Chapter Four
Llamas and Lúcuma
Dear Diario,
Today was my third day at la Escuela San Martín. I’m having so much fun! I made two super-cool friends named Lucia and Lucas, and we promised to become pen pals after I leave. Lucia doesn’t like to write as much as I do, but Lucas does and he promises they will write notes that Tía Lola can include with her letters. At San Martín, history is my hardest subject. There is so much I don’t know about Peru, even though it’s the place my mother was born. I’m not even gone yet and I already want to come back.
Shalom,
Lola Levine
A few days later, Tía Lola takes an afternoon off and announces that we are all going to visit the artisan markets in the Miraflores neighborhood of Lima. We leave San Martín right after lunch.
“What’s an artisan?” Ben asks.
“An artisan makes art and crafts by hand. Most of the crafts you will see today are made by indigenous people from the Andes Mountains.”
“Who buys them?” I ask.
“We do,” says Tía Lola, “and tourists do, too. They are very beautiful, as you will see.”
We visit a place called the Mercado Indio, the Indian Market. I can’t believe my eyes. It seems like there are hundreds of booths filled with treasures. I’ve never seen so many beautiful blankets, rugs, dolls, mirrors, dresses, bags, ceramics, jewelry, baskets, and paintings. I don’t know if I have words for all the colors I see—royal blue, hot pink, gold, turquoise, red, and bright purple. There are stuffed llamas like the one I have at home and beautiful dolls. I also see chullos, which are hats made of wool that have flaps around the ears. I have one that Tía Lola sent me and wear it whenever it’s cold.
“These are the colors of Peru,” Mom says.
“I like the colors of Peru,” I say.
“Me too!” says Ben, and then he’s off and running. Mom and Dad follow him, but I stay with Tía Lola. We hold hands and walk through the market.
“I like the people of Peru, too,” I say, squeezing her hand.
We walk through a maze of booths, and each one is cooler than the next. I think about my dad and his paintings. I’m glad there are so many different kinds of artists in the world.
We walk and look, and pretty soon we run into Mom, Dad, and Ben, who says, “Lola! Look! I got a stuffed llama! One for me and one for Mira! It’s made of real llama wool!” Mira Goldstein is Ben’s best friend. She’s very nice, even though her sister, Alyssa, is not as nice, in my opinion.
“Let’s get a gift for Ms. Garcia,” Mom says. “Maybe we can get something for the classroom.”
“Great idea,” says Dad.
“Can I get gifts for Josh and Bella, too?” I ask.
“Of course,” says Mom. I pick out some earrings for Bella, a Peru national soccer team shirt for Josh, and a little painting of a llama for Ms. Garcia.
Mom buys a big rug that she says she will hang on the wall.
“But, Mom,” Ben says, “rugs go on the floor!”
“Not this one,” says Mom. “It’s too beautiful. I want to look at it, not walk on it.”
“I’m hungry,” Ben says.
“Me too,” says Tía Lola. “Let’s get a lúcuma ice cream!”
“Ice cream before dinner?” Ben asks.
“Why not?” says Tía Lola.
“I bet Mom and Dad won’t let us,” says Ben.
“I think we should follow Tía Lola’s rules while we are in Peru,” Mom says, laughing. “Besides, it’s vacation!”
“No rules on vacation!” Ben says, jumping up and down.
“Well, maybe some,” Dad says, looking a little worried. We walk until we find an ice-cream stand, and a few minutes later I’m licking a bright orange ice-cream cone. Lúcuma is a green fruit that grows on trees. It’s yellow-orange on the inside, with a great big dark pit. I’ve never tried an actual lúcuma, only the ice cream, and I love it.
“Knock, knock,” Ben says.
“Who’s there?” Tía Lola asks.
“I scream!” Ben yells.
“I scream who?” Tía Lola shouts back.
“I scream for lúcuma ice cream!” says Ben.
When we finish our ice cream, Tía Lola takes us to Plaza Mayor, the main square in the center of Lima.
“It looks like we are surrounded by castles!” I say.
“We are.” Tía Lola laughs, and she points out the Government Palace, the Archbishop’s Palace, and the City Palace, which is painted bright yellow. There are flowers and fountains everywhere. I’ve never seen such beautiful buildings.
“These were built by the Spanish,” Tía Lola says. “On Saturday, we are taking you to see buildings a lot older than this, which were built by the first peoples of Peru.”
“I can’t wait,” I say, and then notice that Ben is trying to climb into a fountain.
“Ben!” I say. “That’s not allowed.”
“But I’m so hot,” he says, and before I know it, he’s in the water.
“Mom! Dad!” I yell, and reach over to try to grab his hands.
“Ben!” Dad says.
“Stop, Lola!” Mom says. “We’ll get him!”
But I’ve already got Ben’s two hands. I pull, but Ben pulls harder.
Splash! I fall into the fountain. Now tourists are taking pictures of Ben and me. By the time we get out of the water, Mom and Dad aren’t too happy with us.
“I was trying to help!” I say.
“Aren’t I strong?” Ben says. “I pulled Lola in!”
“Well, at least everyone’s cooled off!” Tía Lola says cheerfully. “I think it’s time to go home and get dry.”
And that’s exactly what we do. It’s funny to think that this week, “home” is Tía Lola’s house. And Mom’s house, too.
The next day, at San Martín Elementary, Tía Lola packs me a lunch so I can eat on the playground with Lucia and Lucas. I have chicken with rice, leftovers from our dinner the night before. It’s so yummy.
“Guess what?” I tell them. “We are going to Pachacamac this weekend to see the ruins.” “Pachacamac” is a very fun word to say. It sounds like pa-cha-ka-mack.
“That’s great! We went there on a field trip last year,” says Lucia.
“They have llamas that walk around the museum,” says Lucas.
“I thought llamas lived in the mountains,” I say.
“They do! My dad’s family had them growing up,” Lucas explains. “When he moved to Lima, he couldn’t bring them. The tourists like to take pictures of llamas, though, so you can find them in some places.”
“I’m not a tourist,” I say. At least I don’t think I am. “My mom was born here—just like my tía Lola, I mean Directora Valdez.”
“So you are Peruvian and American?” Lucia says.
“Yep,” I say, and we both smile.
“Soccer?” asks Lucas.
“Definitely!” I say, and off we go.
Lola Levine
Ms. Garcia’s class
Report #3
Llamas
Llamas are amazing! They live with people in the Andes Mountains. They are very social and like to live in herds. They are in the camel family of animals and are vegetarians. They are very friendly, unless you make them mad. Then they will kick and spit. Llama hair can be used to make rugs, ropes, and clothes. Llamas are also very useful. They help carry heavy loads and guard sheep. Peruvians love and celebrate llamas, and I do, too!
Chapter Five
Pachacamac
Dear Diario,
Guess what? It’s almost midnight! I don’t think I’ve ever been awake this late. Ben and I got to stay up late because Tía Lola and Mom were telling stories from when they were little. I guess Tía Lola got in trouble sometimes, just like me. Today was my last day at San Martín. Lucia, Lucas, and I had the best soccer game ever! It was hard to say good-bye to them and all the other kids, but I promised my new friends that I would be back. I sure hope that’s true. Tomorrow, Tía Lola is taking us to the ruins at Pachacamac. I’m going to sleep now so I have energy to climb pyramids tomorrow.
Shalom,
Lola Levine
We wake up and drive to Pachacamac. Ben brings his stuffed llama, of course. Since he got it, he hasn’t put it down once. He even brings the llama into the bathroom with him.
The ride seems to take forever, but that’s just because I’m so excited. When we finally arrive, we go to the entrance to buy our tickets.
We walk through the gates, and Tía Lola says, “Before we walk to the ruins, we are going to meet the llamas.” She takes us into a big yard wi
th lots of green grass and plants near the museum. Then I see them.
“Llamas!” I say. They are beautiful. They have lots and lots of fluffy fur—white, brown, and beige.
“They spend a lot of time around people,” a museum worker tells us.
“Are they happy?” I ask.
“These llamas are healthy and happy. They are very special to us. Would you like to pet one?”
“Yes,” I say, and he brings a llama over to me.
“I’d like you to meet Lorenzo.”
“Hi, Lorenzo the llama,” says Ben.
“Nice to meet you!” I say, and I pet him. The fur feels soft and rough at the same time. Lorenzo is much taller than me and has brown and white fur.
“I want to pet the llama, too!” Ben says. “He looks like my llama but a lot bigger!”
“But remember, he’s real, so be gentle,” Dad says, and surprisingly, Ben is.
“I think it’s time to say good-bye to the llamas,” Mom says after a while. “There is so much more to see.”
“Good-bye, llamas!” I say.
“I’m going to name my llama Lorenzo, too!” Ben says. “Say good-bye to Lorenzo… Lorenzo.”
We walk toward the ruins of buildings and courtyards and pyramids that look like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Everything is the color of sand, maybe because we are near the ocean. There are so many places to see.
“Can you imagine our indigenous ancestors living here?” Tía Lola says.
“When did our ancestors stop living here?” I ask.
“Yeah, why don’t people live here now?” Ben asks. “I think it’s cool! There are so many places to climb and hide.”