"Doing" Cultural Anthropology, Round 2

I feel like crying. The point of cultural anthropology is to better understand other cultures, right? I mean, howsoever we define "other cultures." Well, getting Limeños to participate in my study is freaking hard. They are from another culture, one that does not like to participate in other people's doctoral dissertations, nor sign ethical waivers.

I feel like crying. Did I mention that? Sure could use some suggestions. Contacts. Whatnot.

Roommate S says I should hand out fliers. I think that might be a nice idea, but it appears that a meaningful face-to-face interaction and eye contact improves my meager chances at success. Hell, then again, it might work.

Acclimated friend C says to hang a nice flier in public places. Pues ... another nice idea, but ... would a Peruvian respond to it? I guess it worked for my predecessors in the UCLA study. Sort of. They were working with inherently exhibitionist Angelenos who enjoy being on stage, or putting other people on stage. (Joni Mitchell said it best of her free Angeleno man in Paris who was indeed free until he returned to his job "stoking the starmaker machinery behind the popular song." That free man was David Geffen, by the way - THANKS, DNA.) Anyway, Angelenos dig that shit: publicity. Limeños don't.

In order to seduce them, I have ... spent time at grocery stores, asking women how to cook strange squashes. Then I segue into my project pitch, which I believe is eloquent. 

I have ... gone to design/furniture stores, museums, toy stores, anywhere "middle class" people with kids hang out and/or buy stuff for the interiors of their homes.

Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat. 

I say that this is very important work that will eventually turn into a book.

People seem intrigued. 

They say they will participate and then they don't return my calls. 

My new tactic: make them sign up for a time that I am available, with their address, so that I can appear at their house. 

I never wanted to go into sales. It is not my calling. I have known this for years, since I had my first (and last) retail position at a pet store, during which I "accidentally" set free several cockatiels into the non-conducive environment of my hometown.

            Prescott, AZ

I don't regret it. I like birds.

Aver, urban anthropology presents challenges of its own, for sure. People never smile in Lima, except the (male) security guards in front of (extremely pricey) restaurants and stores. They say, "buenos tardes" or "día," as the case may be, and I think they think norteamericanos are nice, which they are, compared to rich Limeños, and I apologize for the stereotype, but goddamn it's true. 

I get jealous sometimes of my peers working in small villages where residents are curious and eventually approach THEM, instead of me feeling like a damned cookie-selling Girl Scout (another painful flashback).

I'd rather just put up pictures of the Gloria cows. 

 

There are only 80 Gloria cows. I know, because I asked the man on the right as he was putting it up in Miraflores, and he said this was the 80th and final one.