The mere-exposure effect is a psychological phenomenon which we are all familiar with. It states that we prefer things more as our exposure to them increases. Its effectiveness depends on the subject, however. While people are attracted to faces and persons with whom we are more familiar, we may actually be more attracted to novel destinations.
This explains the contradictory feelings that travelers experience; the excitement from the search for novelty competes with the missing of everything familiar back home. The second feeling grows as our time away gets longer.
Also contradictory is that travelers miss pleasures that they don’t even enjoy at home. I’ve been to McDonald’s in other countries more than in the USA in the past decade, literally feeding a feeling of nostalgia.
Fighting off the Mere-Exposure Effect
The creaky buses to Yauyos, the ones Peace Corps advised us against taking, provided my first memorable experience with the mere exposure effect. I always found myself putting in earplugs and jacking up the volume. This was to drown out the sometimes screeching Huayno, the folk music of choice in the Peruvian Andes. My mind just wanted something of my own to cling to as we crawled through the curving roads in Lima department.
It was my first time out of my country. We were on a double-laned dirt road, kicking up plumes of dust at max 35 mph. Evening had come and the full moon brightened the imposing and otherwise boring, dry foothills. They reminded me of the dirt hills we played on as kids but a 1,000 times bigger. I scrolled the iPod to a favorite Neil Young composition. It fit the moment perfectly.
Eventually my brain wondered at the mountains outside and was prodded by idealistic lyrics. What would the village be like? Would it be cold at night? And the general thoughts of a naive man who had no idea what was awaiting but had lots of time to ponder. At around midnight I heard the unmistakable sound of a Diesel engine turning off. We were stopped. I fell asleep.
Impromptu Bus Stop
Surprise hikes can be quite fun. The bus had stopped a few hours into our journey because several large boulders were blocking the road. Apparently a village was protesting something, and they decided to pause transportation for a few days to bring attention to their cause. So we had to walk to another town, which was some hours’ walk away (the exact number was nebulous), to find a taxi to our new homes.
I took off my sweater and put it in my bag. I closed the bag, and the air that escaped smelled of home. Home didn’t have random hikes because roads were shut down. But home also didn’t have dirt roads navigating the Andean foothills, which still covered the morning sun and kept us in the shade.
Our first steps were over a wooden bridge which had been partially burned during the protest. It was still smoldering, slightly. Instead of the chances the weakened wood may fail under our weight, my thoughts were on breakfast and how glad I was to have worn my boots. This was already an adventure.
The road inland towards Yauyos hugged the Cañete River. Within the hour the sun hit down on us. Soon after, sweat beaded on my forehead. A bit after that, my baseball cap was soaked. But there was still water.
Doubt Sets In
I realized nobody knew where we were; there was no cell phone service and the bus company hadn’t even known about the protest. What if someone was waiting for us? What if we couldn’t get back to Lima? My Spanish was not good enough to get much information from anyone. Getting comfortable with being unconformable was one thing; this felt like we were lost.
It would be easy to rob someone in our situation. All of our valuables were obviously with us, and there was no way for us to get help. Losing my passport would be a nuisance; losing my music would be a personal travesty.
I’m not sure how long I dwelled on these thoughts. Probably not as long as it seemed at the time. They dissipated with the sight of a town of roughly 25 painted adobe structures adjacent to the river. We were told there was a restaurant, and we ordered food and waited.
It really was best to sit back and just let this adventure happen. Our guides weren’t worried, so why should I be?
An All-American Refreshment Break in Yauyos
Just as we entered town, a man in a small brown fedora (they’re quite popular there) approached my friend Jared and me. He asked if we were Americans, and we told him yes. Then off he bounded, and not a minute later the familiar hiss of carbon dioxide emitted from a soda bottle. The man offered to share the bottle of Coca-cola.
I don’t know what color Coke is. It seems black in the bottle, but as you pour it, it takes on a brownish color. I know it has more sugar than one person should have in a day. And that sugar isn’t black or dark brown.
Nutritionists say Coke provides no major nutrients. But that was the best beverage I had ever drank. Maybe it’s the “Mexican coke” effect, or that my body just craved ANY calories at the moment. But I think it was that no matter how crazy a trip gets, or how many anxious questions pop into your head, you can escape into something familiar and reset.
The funny thing about our familiarities is how quickly they change. In just 2 years the old highway we took to Yauyos was not longer recognizable. It became one lane and paved, much faster and at first, dangerous, because drivers weren’t used to driving at high speeds. There were also guardrails put in, although far too few.
My bag still smelled of a familiar place, but of the dry Peruvian mountain air. There have even been times when I’ve listened to Huayno to remember the village. I had been exposed to the genre enough for a certain psychological phenomenon to take effect, despite my very best efforts.
And the kicker is, I don’t even like Coca-cola.
This is great! So Peace Corps, so Peru. The buses, the unpredictability and vulnerability. And even the Coke. I find the sweetness of Coke gaggy in the US but welcomed it on hot and anxious days in Peru.