Coming Home

August 24, 2011 at 9:00 am, my family eyed the uncommonly shiny, new taxi waiting for us in the parking lot just down the hill from our Pisac hospedaje. A long seven months ago, on February 8, 2011, we piled into a larger, rougher-looking taxi at the Cusco airport – our first non-air transportation in our new temporary home of Peru. So much had happened in the interim, but in such small increments that we could hardly describe the metamorphosis we all had undergone. We noticed the new car, a rarity in this part of Peru, that was for sure. Our understanding of what is common and what is not had grown more comprehensive each day that passed in the small community of 3,000.

As we started loading our bags into it, I noted that, as opposed to our first taxi ride, this time we had more stuff and less taxi.

The driver managed to squeeze the hatchback closed and the four of us clambered into the available seats, holding the smaller of the bags and satchels on our laps. After more than half a year in this foreign place, we were almost ready to leave – leave Pisac, leave Cusco, leave Peru. The taxi took us down the hill about 6 blocks to a restaurant on the main carretera. The bright orange sign showed a Lambayequan god in a large, ornate headdress, poling his canoe into the sun, his name blazoned over his head: “Naylamp”. We had one more family member to pick up.

We spotted the grey-haired Otorongo, his grizzled face softened by the now-smudged, blue tattoo of a nautical star between his eyes, and his young, pregnant wife Diana sitting outside the entrance. Their boys, Prem and Sebastian, moved about on the sidewalk outside the restaurant like impatient farm animals waiting to be fed. The restaurant owners, Mama Nelly and her partner Angel, were there, but one person was noticeably missing: the namesake of the restaurant, our new godson and soon-to-be exchange student in the United States, 15 year old Naylamp. He was not in the restaurant, but his bags were.

I heaved one of his backpacks into the already-stuffed station wagon, remembering how, upon our arrival, I was not allowed to lift anything over 10 pounds. I had had major abdominal surgery 2 weeks prior to our departure from Portland and wasn’t allowed to do a lot of things, but going to Peru was not one of them! Lucky for me, my husband had been ever-accommodating: he carried two of his own backpacks, plus mine, from Portland to Los Angeles to Lima to Cusco to Pisac. This time, strengthened by months of high-altitude living, lots of walking and simply time passing, I could do my fair share.

Naylamp’s family passed around hugs and kisses and we chatted in limited Spanish as we awaited his descent from his grandma’s living space above the restaurant. All of a sudden, he appeared, racing towards us, wet from a shower, smiling as usual, and looking a little bit frantic. Of course he was frazzled. He was about to embark on an 11-month journey, far from his family and friends, to a strange place, a strange house, a strange family.

The taxi-driver had an appointment to pick someone up at the Cusco airport after he dropped us off, so he was in a hurry. He goaded Naylamp and his family into gathering the loose items that hadn’t made it into the backpack – the poncho, the chullo, two sets of Andean pipes – and herded our newly-enlarged family of five back towards the car.

More kisses and hugs all around, more bags wedged between knees, under feet and above heads. We waved goodbye and blew kisses from our squashed positions within. The doors slammed shut. Through what little window-glass was still unobstructed by luggage, I saw Naylamp’s grandma Nelly, standing in the entrance of her restaurant, wiping her eyes. She is Mama Nelly to Naylamp, having raised him since he was small. With no time for sentiment, the driver stepped on the gas, and we were off! I couldn’t see into the back seat to gauge my new dependent’s expression. How did he feel leaving everything he knew? Who were these strange Americans who would presume to be his parents for the next year? Was he scared? Excited? We were all too crammed together to feel much other than the sharp pang of knitting needles and toothbrushes stabbing us through our carry-ons.

The next three days did not impress me. We spent them in Lima, not the star tourist attraction of South America. Dirty, busy and dangerous, it left no impression in my already richly-filled visitor’s brain other than that of expensive taxis, bad food and noise. It was like drinking powdered skim milk after seven months of fresh buttercream straight from the cow’s udder.

The highlight in Lima was meeting and saying goodbye to more of Naylamp’s extended family. Other activities included visiting a military museum that offensively celebrated the very weapons used to subdue indigenous Peruvians and bring their race close to extinction; and walking through a famous shopping mall, famous for no other reason than it is ridiculous for people who earn so little to spend so much on stuff they so don’t need. We hailed cabs, packed into rapid transit busses at rush hour and generally spent most of our time getting to and fro within the gigantic maze that is the typical urban setting in developing countries.

Matt and the girls flew to the US on August 28th. Naylamp and I followed on the 29th. Getting away from Lima was a blessing, in more ways than one. Escaping the city itself was a relief. But moreso, it felt good to eliminate the ambiguity caused by being the responsible ‘parent’ for Naylamp, which started when we left Pisac, while his real family was also present. I felt like I could finally be the authority and the responsible adult without guilt. And then there was immigration. We were a bit nervous as we approached the border-crossing immigration officer stationed just before our boarding area. He looked unkindly at Naylamp’s long hair and paperwork. He silently noted my skin color and my American passport.

“Where are your parents?” he asked Naylamp in Spanish.

Naylamp explained that his mother was outside in the airport right now, having just seen us off, and that his father was in Pisac.

“Who is this notary?” the man asked, pointing at the notarized form authorizing a minor to travel. It was an Asian last name.

“He is in Supe.” Naylamp responded, “Outside of Lima.”

The officer went away to check with someone else about the notary and the documents. The two of us stood there, apprehensively waiting to see if Peru’s infamous make-them-up-as-you-go rules would come into play here. The man returned. He silently stamped Naylamp’s passport. He folded up the original Authorization to Travel and put it away in a drawer, then waved us on our way without another word.

As we rounded a corner, we both let out the breaths that we had been holding. We could finally breath easy. From that point on, we could let down our guard knowing that we had cleared the biggest hurdles. All that remained was US immigration once we landed in LAX. I had heard that, even there, they could decide to send you back if they didn’t like your attitude. But I thought that was pretty unlikely. So we enjoyed the long airplane ride, the raunchy movie selection and the two and a half meals served during our 9 hour flight. Naylamp asked two fellow passengers to take photos out the window for him (we were in the center seats). We made it to the US pleasantly and uneventfully.

Landing in LAX, passing through immigration bleary-eyed at 10 pm, dealing with a small-potatoes hotel chain and their aggravatingly limited shuttle service, even eating at the diner close to our hotel – it was all a blur. We went to bed at midnight and awoke less than 4 hours later to catch our final flight, destined for Portland.

By 8:00 am on August 30th, we had made it home. Matt and the girls had already dived in to the long lost of things necessary to jumpstart our old life in the house. Over the next few days, the five of us visited doctors, filled out paperwork, registered for classes, organized our stuff, cleaned, cooked, visited… It was real. We were back home. As surreal and as jolting as it was, it was shockingly easy and familiar. I once again understood people – truly understood them – when they gave me directions. I knew how much a loaf of bread should cost. I didn’t worry about getting ripped off, or getting lost, or hurting someone’s feelings inadvertently. I didn’t have to look around at others to know where to stand, where to sit, how long to wait, which side of the street to walk on.

I felt empowered, like a long-estranged master of my surroundings. Every traffic movement, every social interaction, every simple custom bowed to my command. The things I took for granted before our travels, when we were completely familiar with the culture and the language, had reappeared, magically fat on the vine for the picking. The frustrations of being less than fluent, idiomatically and socially, fully dissolved the moment I set foot on that loud, American carpet of red and blue at the Portland International Airport.

How easy life can be, how at-rest my mind, securely running on auto-pilot as the complex rituals of time and place once again become background noise. But I never would have known how much I know, how competent we all truly are in our own cultural setting, had I not flung my poor flailing brain into the equally complex culture of others. As I now rest my overworked brain, Naylamp’s is the one swimming in that confusing vat of foreignness. We should be patient with him.

Back Home

After seven months in Peru and elsewhere in South America, our family has returned home to Portland, Oregon.  It was quite a trip and I can't speak for the whole family about all of our overall feelings about it.  But I think we all found it at different times rewarding, challenging, fascinating,beautiful, trying and certainly significantly different from our life here in the US.  Hopefully, we've all come back with a different perspective both on life in Peru and on life here in North America. 

We've now been back about a week and are still adjusting to some degree to the culture shock of returning.  Just being in my own house has a bit of a surreal feel to me at times.  And not only are we adjusting to a return to school for kids and work for Cathy and I, but we are also getting used to having a new family member here.  As many of you who have followed our blog or communicated with us recently know, we brought a Peruvian exchange student back with us.  Bruno Naylamp Adananque moved into Katie's room last week (she'll live in the attic while he is with us) and began his sophomore year at Cleveland High School this week.  Living and going to school in the US will be a serious change for Naylamp but he is a smart, outgoing and resilient kid and we're confident he'll make the best of it.  And having a teenage boy in the house is big change for us but also a great opportunity and we're really looking forward to the coming year.

I'm not sure how many new blog posts you will see in the near future and we may eventually leave this blog in a state of suspended animation.  However, at least in the coming weeks, we will continue to add more pictures from our travels and possibly some of our thoughts on our trip and experiences as we reflect back on them.  As always, thanks to everyone who has supported us in this adventure.

Matt

Changing Lives, for Better and Worse

Worrying seems to have been my volunteer 'project' here in Peru.  For the past 3 1/2 months (has it been that long?!), my primary worry was one thing or another regarding the details of a study abroad program I got involved with.  I had been named an official Peruvian representative for ISE, an international student exchange program, and spent countless hours finding documentation and filling out forms for one student in Pisac, Peru who wanted to study in the US. 

The first stressor was turning in the application to ISE.  We had gotten started late, and the deadline had already passed, so time was of the essence.  We gathered documents, got vaccinations, paid fees, administered tests, searched for records and finally turned in the application, 6 weeks later than the normal deadline.  But, I like to think due to our hard work, the student was accepted instantly!  We also lucked out with a very special exception to a Portland School District rule and they held a spot for the student at Cleveland High, 1/2 mile from our house.  The hard part was now over... or so I thought. 

At the tail end of that major accomplishment, what I thought was simply highly sensitive parents expressing their disappointment that their kids couldn´t go abroad too, turned into an all-out war of words between some of the leaders in the student's school and supporters of the exchange program idea.  The student took the brunt of the pain.  Important adults in his life acted childishly and irresponsibly.  It was a sad and difficult time.  Friendships were broken.

The next stressor was raising money to pay for the program.  You all have probably heard about that part enough already!  I learned how to create my own website expresssly for fundraising.  I made connections with people I have never met before.  I found that people can be amazing!  From the $9 donated by a Peruvian neighbor, to the $900 donated by an anonymous gentleman from Michigan, I managed to raise the funds in record time with one or two days to spare!

Next was the US non-immigrant visa.  I thought we had it pegged.  After all, it was for an internatonal exchange program sanctioned by Hillary Clinton and the State Department.  It should be a simple "Yes", right?  Slowly, I learned that the US Embassy in Lima is like a colonial fortress, prepared for enemy attack at all times, where even US citizens have to pay to gain access, with blood, sweat, tears, and of course, money.  I tried to ask questions to clarify conflicting information on the government websites.  I was rebuffed:  there are procedures for asking questions.  I followed the procedures: the responses either never came or were meted out as though every word cost a hundred dollars.

Finally, I figured I had squeezed as much information out of the rock as possible.  I made checklists and gave my student assignments to prepare for his interview.  He arrived at the intimidating, razor-wire gates with every shred of paperwork we were told he might need, and...his application was rejected!

We were shocked and dismayed.  But I hustled.  I made more lists and gave more assignments.  I rushed to Lima and scheduled an appointment to see the citizen services branch of the embassy (where I learned nothing).  I got another load of documentation ready for a second try.  To make a long, stressful story short, he returned to the embassy two days ago and was granted his visa.

Immediately, my life changed.  No longer did I feel the typical fretfulness about the exchange program.  (Had I done the absolute best a person could do?)  No longer did I feel the overwhelming crush of possibly letting down this student and his family, who had risked so much for this chance.  I slept well.  I felt...calm.

I had practically forced through the success of this project.  When someone told me it was impossible, I ignored them.  When someone said it couldn't be done, I went ahead anyway.  Yes, I was pushy.  Yes, it consumed too much of my emotional energy.  But with the visa granted, it was finally for real.  I could happily say that we had won the battle.

That day, I was less grouchy.  I was able to look around me at the wonderful things I was expereinceing on my travels, at my wonderful family, at the amazing good fortune I have as a person who can do what we are now doing.  Such a heavy burden those worries have been. 

And now comes the good part.  The student will travel with us to Portland in August and his dream of studying abroad will become a reality.  It will be a life-changing experience for him as he learns more about a different culture and becomes fluent in English.  He will return to Peru in 2012 wiser to the world.  Equally important, he will have four more people who love him and consider him family, because that is how we already feel.  The time we have spent preparing for this adventure was itself an adventure, a time for growing closer, sharing secrets, laughter and tears.  Naylamp is already a part of our family.  Our lives will be changed forever.

Cathy

Matt’s Many Mishaps

As many of you know, I am a clumsy guy.  I have a tendency to drop and spill things, trip, fall down and bump into people on a regular basis.  My clumsiness was in full force during our travels and to help share the pain (and hopefully laughter) I’ll recount a few of the more memorable mishaps.

-               Falling in the creek.  I have crossed many creeks in Peru, often with no incident.  But not this time.  My friend and co-worker Sandy and I were on our way into the village of Chaipa early one morning and it was quite cold (probably just a few degrees above freezing).  After trekking down a steep hill (where I miraculously didn’t fall), we had to cross a creek on a series of stepping stones.  Sandy, being smarter and more agile than me, crossed it without incident.  While I find that it is generally better to cross stepping stones quickly and confidently, I didn’t do that in this case.  I took the slow, tentative approach.  And sure enough, halfway across, I slipped on a rock, lost my balance and landed with both feet and my backside in the creek.  On the bright side, I did manage to keep my hands and the bucket of tools I was carrying out of the water.  And I provided some good entertainment for Sandy and for the two guys sitting on a rock about 30 feet away.

-     Don’t kneel there.  Towards the end of our recent travels, we visited the city of Valparaiso, Chile.  I think it is one of the most photogenic cities I’ve ever seen and I took a lot of pictures there.  For one photo, I was trying to capture a tall church steeple and needed to kneel down to get an unobstructed  view of the steeple.  I was very intent on my photo and didn’t hear my wife as she yelled the words “stop!” and “poop!”  The words “Matt, don’t do it” (or something to that effect) did finally penetrate my brain, but too late.  At that point, I was rising from my kneeling position and wondering if a car was bearing down on me or if the two guys moving church pews down the street were going to run into me.  But no, instead I discovered that I had just kneeled in a small pile of dog poop.

-     Bustin’ up the furniture.  This is a twofer, one for an incident that happened in the Pisac market and the other in Santiago, Chile.  The Pisac mishap occurred on Sunday market day as I was having lunch with Georgia and Katie at one of the lunch tables set up in the crowded market. I was sitting on a small plastic stool.  As I tried to shift my weight and the position of the small plastic stool on which I sat, the thing completely collapsed, landing me in the street, to the great amusement of everyone around me.  The Santiago incident had fewer witnesses.  In this case, as I sat down on Georgia’s bed, the mattress and wood slats holding it up collapsed.  At least this time it was a soft landing and I didn’t do any permanent damage to the bed.

-               Nice view.  As you may know from other blogs, one of my volunteer activities was to install concrete biosand filters in nearby local Peruvian communities.  This occasionally involved carrying these very heavy filters (180-200 pounds) up steep, narrow trails.  This required frequently setting the filters down to rest.  As Sandy and I set a filter down one day in the town of Totora, the sharp edge of the filter caught the front of my baggie pants and ripped a large L-shaped hole in the front of them.  The hole afforded a prime view of my leg and smiley-faced boxer shorts.  Since this happened early in the morning and we had a long day ahead of us, many people got to see my pants in this state of disrepair.  Our travels that day took us not only through Tortora but also past a nearby road construction site (a couple of miles long) and through the town plazas and main streets of the towns of Calca and Lamay, as well as on a bus full of people traveling between those two places.  Needless to say, I got lots of interesting looks along the way.  It is also worth noting that both Sandy and my daughter Georgia also suffered significant pant seam failures during our trip so at least I was not alone in this mishap.

-     Wheelbarrow incident.  I spent a lot of time in Peru moving things around in wheelbarrows – usually some combination of sand, gravel, concrete, tools and/or water filters.  One day I was helping Sandy and his neighbor move a load of recently washed sand and gravel up a trail between his home/workshop and another house.  At the end of the path, I needed to turn the wheelbarrow almost all the way around to face the path to the other house.  For some reason I thought I could do this without stopping first – just keep up my momentum and make the turn on the run.  Unfortunately I was wrong.  As I attempted to make the turn, the slope of the trail and weight of the wheelbarrow pushed me backwards and I slid right off the trail as I watched the wheelbarrow overturn.  I ended up sort of clinging to the slope, with just my hands and head above the trail.  Fortunately I escaped with only minor injuries and laughed about this one for days every time I thought about it.

-                Surprise on the bus.  I regularly rode the local bus from Pisac to Lamay and back for my volunteer work.  Most days on the return trip, the bus was very crowded and I had to stand.  On one such day, an older woman urged me to take her seat.  Having had a long day at my volunteer job, I accepted.  However, it soon became apparent that the woman needed the seat more than I did.  She seemed quite unstable on her feet as the bus swayed up the road.  I urged her to take her seat back several times but she refused, mumbling about getting off at the next town and I’m not sure what else.  As we neared her stop and the bus slowed quickly, she fell backwards into the aisle.  As nobody else made a move to help her up, I got up and lifted her to her feet.  A couple of minutes later, she got off the bus.  By this time it was apparent that she probably had been doing quite a lot of drinking before boarding the bus.  As I started to sit back down, a man behind me told me not to sit in the same seat, pointing out that it was quite wet – something I had somehow failed to notice earlier.  But now I discovered that the back of my pants were indeed quite damp. Bummer!  It seems the woman had had a bit of an accident before I sat in that seat.

I think these are the most notable of my various mishaps here but by no means the only ones.  Hopefully you’ve enjoyed the retelling.

Matt

Hastie Travels – Breaking it Down

We arrived safely back in Pisac yesterday after about five and a half weeks of travel in Peru, Ecuador and Chile.  We were fortunate enough to visit many amazing places, some of which I’ve described briefly in a couple of previous travel update blogs.  For this blog, because I’m kind of obsessed with numbers, I’m going to provide some quick statistics for our trip.  Here goes.

-          Days of travel: 37

-          Places visited: 3 countries, 5 islands, 27 cities and 33 museums, ruins and other archeological sites

-          Different lodgings: 18 hotels, hospedajes or hostals, plus two nights on buses/planes

-          Hotel reservations before leaving Pisac: 1

-          Bus travel: About 2,000 miles with 13 different bus companies, plus various combis, cars and taxis

-          Air travel: About 10,000 miles on seven planes

-          Hours spent on  buses, planes, combis and/or waiting in bus stations and airports: 160

-          Days with no travel (i.e., no long bus, combi or plane ride): 16

-          Illnesses: 2

-          Times tear-gassed: 2 (both in Chile)

-          Attempted robberies: 1

-          Items stolen: 0

-          Lost or confiscated items: 3 (book, camera and swiss army knife)

-          Ice cream consumed: 51 ice cream scoops, bars and/or popsicles

-          Fistfights: 0

-          Arguments, disagreements and debates: Too many to count

Of course, this pales in comparison to some of the other people who we have met recently and who are in the midst of around-the-world tours and/or even more extensive travels in South America (like our friends the Vances who did something similar to us but for 6 months!).  Look for photos of our recent travels in the  blog sidebar in the next few days and possibly more information in future blogs.  In just 10 days we’ll be back home in Portland and look forward to seeing many of you soon.

Matt

Another Travel Update

Time for another quick travel update - whatever I can do in the next 15 minutes.  Since our last update, we have spent most of our time in 3 places - Los Organos on the northern Peruvian Coast, the city of Cuenca, Ecuadar, and currently the Galapagos Islands.  Here are a few quick highlights:

- Los Organos.  This is a fun little beach town in northern Peru, south of the much busier surf mecca of Mancora.  We rented part of a house which fronted a beautiful beach.  It was a great place to relax and do a bit of swimming and body-surfing, plus eat some great seafood.

- Cuenca.  This is purported to be one of the prettiest towns in Ecuador and we really enjoyed it, from the laid-back and relatively tranquil atmosphere, to some great museums, beautiful plazas and colonial architecture, and a fun place to stay (Hostal El Barranco).  Georgia used some of her dishwashing allowance money to buy a Panama hat (misnamed since these types of hats actually originated in Cuenca).

- Galapagos.  Tough to know where to start here but we have seen some amazing wildlife and sights.  The highlight so far was probably snorkeling and swimming/playing with a young sea lion yesterday.  We have also seen penguins, blue-footed boobies, sharks, manta rays, giant land tortoises, sea turtles and lots and lots of lizards.  Activities here have included boat trips, hikes, bike riding, snorkeling, horseback riding and kayaking.  This is our last day here and then it is on to Chile tomorrow.

That is all I have time for now and unfortunately my connection is too slow to upload any more photos.

Matt

Travel Update

It´s time for a little travel update from the Hasties.  We´ve been traveling for about 12 days now.  That means lots of miles; lots and lots of buses, combis and taxis; many sights; and even more photos.   Here´s a quick summary of a few of the highlights:

- Arequipa.  We stayed there for three nights.  Highlights included the Santa Catalina monastery - a beautiful monastery in use since the 1500s; great food (particularly liked La Capitana where we got a smorgasbord of local dishes); lovely plazas; and some beautiful residential neighborhoods.

- Colca Canyon.  We did three days of hiking and spent two nights here in the second deepest canyon in the world (the deepest being the nearby Cotohuasi).  Unlike places like the Grand Canyon or Zion Canyon in the US, there are several towns in this canyon, including places to stay, which means we could pack in a minimal amount of stuff - just snacks and clothes for three days.  The place was beautiful and tranquil and the girls were awesome hikers.  On the last day, we hiked out of canyon - a climb of over 3,000 feet which we finished by 8 a.m., including a moonlit start.  In nearby Cabanaconde, as part of the local festival of the Virgen de Carmen we were also treated to one of the best fireworks displays we´ve ever seen.

- Paracas Reserve and the Ballestas Islands.  Both of these places feature outstanding marine life.  The Ballestas in particular are home to thousands upon thousands of gulls, cormorants, penguins and other birds, as well and sea lions and other sea life.  The sheer number of birds was astounding.  The Paracas National Reserve is a seemingly barren but beautiful landscape that still contains an abundance of marine life.

- Moche Pyramids and Chan Chan.  Today we visited some fabulous ruins from the Moche period (the Huaca de Luna) and Chimu period (Huacas de Esmerelda and Arco Iris and Chan Chan).  Below is a picture of carvings at the Huaca de la Luna.  This square shaped pyramid has five levels.  Every 70-100 years, the Mochicas built a new level over the top of and around the previous one, covering all the artwork, sculptures, tombs, etc. from the previous incarnation - fascinating.  The associated museum was one of the best we´ve seen in Peru showcasing an impressive collection of fantastic pottery from teh site.

That´s enough for now.  In the next few days we´ll see more of the northern coast of Peru, including stops in Lambayeque and Los Organos for more museums and hopefully a bit of relaxing on the beach.  Then it´s on to Ecuador and the town of Cuenca followed by a trip to the Galapagos Islands.  We´ll try to do another post somewhere in there.

Matt

The Long and the Short of It

Two days from now, our family will switch gears dramatically.  Wednesday marks the end of our ‘stay in one place‘  phase, and we turn towards a very different way of life that will carry us all over Peru for five weeks of travel.  This change, I predict, will bring with it a new perspective, different standards, and certainly a different flavor of adventure.    

For the past four and a half months, I have been trying to blend into our small-town, Peruvian habitat as we have set up residence in Pisac.  I don’t wear shorts or short skirts.  I cover my skin.  I don’t buy fancy food or clothes or tourist goods.  I eat the daily specials at the local restaurants for $1.25 instead of made-to-order meals at the better restaurants for $8.  I shower when I smell bad, not when my hair is out of place (that means about once a week).  I don’t sit on terraces, drinking martinis and looking over the working populace of the town on market days.  I don’t talk loud.  I don’t wear jewelry or expensive-looking clothes.   In fact, I wear the same, plain clothes most days – one of two pairs of pants and one of three or four blank shirts (no “I heart New York” tees!).  I try to stick to a routine that resembles that of the people around me, except with moderation – they get up at 4 am to start setting up their stalls and merchandise; I get up at 6:30.

I don’t know if anyone even notices or cares about how I act or what I do, but it makes me feel like I am living in closer alignment with the people around me when I don’t draw too much attention (admittedly  difficult at 5’ 10 ½” with two curly haired, rubian daughters...).  My neighbors wear all sorts of crazy American tee shirts (one 15-year old girl wore a shirt that read “Pussy” – I know she wouldn’t have worn it if she knew what it meant!), and traditional skirts that show calves and ankles.  But I try to fly under the radar with my neutral appearance.  I just don’t want to be mistaken for a tourist. 

My Spanish may be marginal, my job requires next to no manual labor, and I don’t have to count my pennies like they do, but people tend to treat me as an equal, saying ‘buenas dias’ and ‘buenas tardes’ politely.  We are charged the same prices as our neighbors (most of the time).  The vendors in the market don’t try to sell to us anymore.  Pisacians seem to recognize us as, if not locals, then a different kind of gringo.

This Wednesday, however, we will heft onto our backs large, fancy traveling backpacks, and somewhat self-consciously parade ourselves down the main pedestrian path towards the bus stop.  This typical tourist indicator - the backpack - may sound a warning bell among the vendors we see daily but who don’t know us by name.  The image of four heavily laden Americans marching away from their town may very well demote us from our special status of ‘gringos who stay’ back to just another group out of the millions of ‘gringos who pass through.’  And rightly so.  Because that is what we are doing.  We are going away.

We will board a bus, embarking on what in the eyes of Pisacians is an extravagant five-week vacation.  We will leave behind us the beginnings of membership in this community:  knowing where to get the best hot bread first thing in the morning; walking just so, without breaking stride, to avoid dog poop in the street; greeting familiar, smiling faces as we cross the square.  Step by step, as our neighbors watch our backpacks grow smaller and smaller, we will transform back into tourists, slipping silently away through the hubbub of the oceanic marketplace, leaving only a minute ripple in our wake.  The ripple will soon be subsumed by the reverberations of ten or twenty other travelers – some who stay and some who don’t - and then it will disappear almost entirely. 

Fitting in is a high priority for me in Pisac.  But it won’t be as we pass through the twenty-odd cities we have mapped out for ourselves over the next month.  We are going to do blatantly touristy activities, eat touristy food and pay touristy prices.  Our ripples will be so small that they will be inconsequential.  On one level this may seem sad – we will have less understanding, less participation.  Relationships will be short and shallow; experiences likewise.  But it also grants a kind of freedom – no more small-town responsibilities, no more soap operas or politics.  No more trying to fit in.   And the breadth of our experience will be dramatically increased.  Peru isn’t Pisac.  It is so much more.  And soon, we will get a glimpse of that truth, day by day, city by city, stepping back and seeing a much bigger picture. 

Our time in Pisac will be imprinted upon our brains like the deep, intense flavor of a rich wine, concentrated at the root of our tongues to be savored and remembered.  This next phase of our adventure will swirl and spin through all of our senses, briefly touching a chord here, causing a shiver there, like a cold splash of water on a hot day.  The long and the short, the deep and the shallow, the near and the far:  we will discover Peru both ways.

Cathy

Upcoming Travels

One phase of our journey is winding down and another is about to begin.  Our stay in Pisac is almost at an end (though we will return for a few days in late August).  Matt has finished his work for DESEA.  Cathy taught her last English class last week and also wrapped up a stint of volunteering with a team of US doctors here.  And Katie and Georgia had their last day of school at Kusi Kawsay on Friday.  Life in Pisac has been both challenging and enriching for us all and leaving will be bittersweet. 

This Wednesday we will begin the next part of our trip – about five and a half weeks of travel in South America, visiting other parts of Peru, as well as Ecuador and Chile.  This will include stops in Arequipa, Colca Canyon, and multiple cities, archeological sites, museums (and beaches) on the coast of Peru.  It also will include travels to Cuenca, Guayaquil and the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador, plus visits to Santiago and Easter Island in Chile.  We will be traveling between July 13 and August 19 and will have only sporadic access to e-mail during this time.  Our Peruvian cell phones will still work while in Peru (until about Aug 1) but we may or may not use them in Ecuador and Chile. 

We will arrive back in Pisac on August 19 to say our farewells to all our friends here and spend a few last days in our temporary home at the Hospedaje Beho.  On August 25, we head to Lima for a couple of days, before returning to the Portland on August 29/30.  If anyone needs to reach us during that time, e-mail will probably be most effective although we can’t promise a speedy reply.  As always, thank you to all our friends and family for your thoughts and support!

Matt

The Pisac Market

In Pisac, where we live, there’s a big craft market. Every family has their own stall made out of wooden tables, sticks and big white tarps. Most people have to change locations  every day, so they have to set it up and take it down every day. They have to get up really early at four? five o’ clock am and aren’t done taking it down until about six thirty pm. Most people bring all their things home on big tricycles. Others pack it all up in big bags and carry it on their backs. It’s hard work! Some women who have less money have to just set tarps on the ground. But I would recommend buying from them because they actually make their own things.

            Sometimes on Sundays I help my friend Durga at her stall. She sells jewelry. I help translate with English or help model.  The way  I find out how much it costs is I weigh it. Depending on what it is made of , I multiply the weight by a number. For the pure silver I times it by twelve and for the ones with color I multiply it by ten.

But in the market they don’t just sell jewelry (of course!). I have bought or received: a necklace, earrings, a stuffed animal llama, a stuffed animal guinea pig, guinea pig slippers, a water bottle holder, a bird whistle that you put water in, a hat, a scarf, a sweater, a shoulder bag with a llama on the front and lots of friendship bracelets. They also sell rugs, gloves, ponchos for men and women, socks, wall hangings, placemats, coasters, ceramics, stone figures, music CDs, musical instruments (like pan flutes, flute/recorders, drums and little guitars), how-to-play-music books, tablecloths, really weird (at least to me) pants, yarn, rocks, dream catchers, paintings and probably more that I can’t think of right now.

            On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays there’s a food market. Daddy shops there every Sunday because it’s biggest then. Sometimes Katie and I come with him. He gives us money to buy fruits for snacks and he buys  groceries for our meals. Each stand has a specific food group that they sell. The biggest stands are for fruits. Some people just sell veggies and some herbs, like cilantro, oregano, ginger or flowers. Some only sell potatoes and others, spices in little bags. At the chicken and fish places they use big cleavers to cut up the meat and, even better, at the beef and pork places, axes.

I  like to buy slices of watermelon for fifty centimos. I think some fruits here are way better than in Portland, but for some fruits, it’s the other way around. For example,  the watermelons and some of the oranges are nice and juicy and sweet, but other oranges are green and the strawberries are squooshed.

There are also stands for household items, but just on Sundays. They sell just about anything you could need, from laundry detergent to rubber bands. On Sundays for lunch, we go to the food stands. You just sit down wherever there’s room on the benches and tell the lady what you want. I figure out what there is by looking at other people’s plates. My favorite lunch stand is an old woman’s where she sells chicken, fish, really yummy green rice, potato salad and noodle salad. But I like the other ones, too. One woman sells chicken, fried or plain rice, lentils and french fries and yet another sells chicken and noodles. At some places you can pay one more sol to get a stuffed pepper. They’re green or red peppers with potatoes, carrots and beans inside and a batter on the bottom. I think they’re too spicy, but Daddy likes them. They all use big pans with really hot oil and card board around them so that nothing flies into the pan. They don’t even use gloves when they reach in to pull out the frying food!

            Every day there are people in the square selling corn with cheese, cake and fresh orange juice. The people with the corn have big pots with corn on the cob and large hunks of cheese. They give it to you in corn husks. The orange juice ladies have a table with an orange peeler and a squeezer. Sometimes they sell cake, too. They peel the orange, cut it in half and put it in the orange squeezer. Then they push the lever and out comes the orange juice. It usually takes about three orange halves to make a small cup of pure orange juice. They ask if you want sugar, but I like mine without.

            When my aunt and grandma visited, they went crazy at the market. Many do. I don’t blame them. Everything is so cheap! One Sunday, Katie went around the market with them, translating and helping bargain. They came to Durga’s stall and bought maybe four or five things each. When they finally had to leave, they had eight bags instead of five, plus a huge alpaca rug. They had to buy  two extra duffle bags for all their purchases from the market. That was very good business for Durga and her husband.

Durga isn’t, but some people can be very pushy. If they even catch you looking at their stuff, they start saying “Oh, is alpaca and I have especial price for you! Dey are natural colors!” and keep trying to make you buy it until you’re so tired of saying no, you just buy it. And if you don’t buy it, they get a sad look on their face and you feel sorry you didn’t buy it.

            Some friends of mine – Abel, Magdalena and Monica walk around selling bracelets, bird whistles and things that women here put in their braids and tie them at the end. My aunt and grandma got some and used them for their glasses. Other kids put on traditional Peruvian costumes  and hold lambs. They ask tourists to take their pictures for one sol.

Me and my friend Ana Miley

            When we first came, everyone was trying to sell us stuff, but since we have to walk through the market every day, they’ve recognized us and stopped. I like it that way. Even though the market has some flaws, if you ever come to Peru, I recommend coming to Pisac to see the market.

 Georgia

The Jungle

We left for the Amazon jungle on a Friday evening, going first from Pisac to Cusco, then taking a Palomino night bus from Cusco to Puerto Maldonado, a city on the edge of the rain forest, next to the Madre de Dios (Mother of God) River.  Luckily, we got full-bed seats on the first story of the bus, so I slept pretty well.  The next morning the rest of the family were discussing a mummy movie that I had no memory of.

“What movie?!” I asked. I had fallen asleep before it even started.

We were even served dinner, something unusual for local transportation.  We were the only tourists on the vehicle and shared the first floor with just one other woman.

We arrived in the riverside city Saturday morning.  We exited the bus, stretching and yawning, and took a little moto-taxi into town.  It was astounding that we all squeezed in there!  When our bumpy ride ended at the Plaza de Armas, we went hunting for a local restaurant open for breakfast.  We found the ideal place, a little hole in the wall with chicharones (deep fired pork), and got those and caldo de pata (paw broth) for breakfast, maybe an odd choice in some people’s opinions. 

We walked around town some more, eventually catching another moto-taxi to our jungle lodge’s Puerto Maldonando office, where we got to just sit back, relax, and drink a nice cold cup of fruit juice.

We saw our first animals of the trip in that office, a group of bats hanging from the ceiling, high above us.  As soon as the tourists who were sharing a boat with us got there, we took a bus to a serpentario, or snake place.  There we saw turtles, monkeys, snakes, frogs, fish, a going-blind ocelot and an eel, all in separate enclosures or cages.  After the guides informed us about each type of animal, we got back in the bus and drove to a second river called the Tambopata River, which flows into the Madre de Dios River.  On the way, my mom thought that she saw three monkeys in the trees, but as we later learned, they might have just been big tree-termites’ nests.  There were also massive vultures circling above the trees.  The number and size of them were remarkable.

After our 45-minute bus ride, we took a boat up the Tambopata River.  We saw various turtles with crowds of male butterflies fluttering around their heads.  The male butterflies lick the salt from the turtles’ faces to attract females.  Since side-neck turtles – the kind we were seeing – can’t pull their heads into their shells, there are always countless butterflies around them.  We were also lucky enough to see four groups of capybaras, the biggest rodents in the world.  This is not an exaggeration nor a guess, but an actual fact.  To me, they looked like a mix between cute warthogs without tusks and giant guinea pigs.  After 45 minutes or so on the boat, we dropped off people going to a closer lodge, Posada Amazonas, and continued on to a checkpoint, where we got our passports stamped and saw an ‘88’ butterfly.  After these two stops, most of the rest of the boat ride was uneventful.  Only one of the four groups of capybaras was spotted after dropping off the other tourists, but when we were almost to our lodge, Refugio Amazonas, our guide saw a yellow caiman, an animal similar to an alligator or crocodile.  We got extremely close to it before it jumped into the water and went under.  We could still see its eyes above the surface of the river as we sped away.  At some point in the boat ride, we also saw two or three macaws high in the sky and there were always many other birds.  Macaws have the same mate their entire lives.

When our boat ride came to an end, we walked to the lodge, enjoyed more juice, found our rooms (the beds all had mosquito-net canopies and were really fun to hang out in), and went upstairs to the relaxation area to hang out and read in the hammocks.  We saw some monkeys from the balcony, playing in the trees.  There could have been three or four, swinging, jumping and climbing about.  I watched them until they disappeared.

Our guide finished with another group soon before dinner and talked with my mom and dad about what we wanted to do.  We then went downstairs for the meal (meatballs – my favorite!).  When we finished eating, Georgia and my mom went straight to bed, exhausted from the night bus on Friday.  My dad and I decided to stay up a bit later, having gotten more sleep than them.  I wrote in my journal and we went on a night hike with our guide, borrowing boots from the lodge.  The guide wanted to take us through some water, but I was afraid that my boots wouldn’t be tall enough, so we took a drier route.  We saw a small frog, a colossal wolf spider and some other giant bugs, but that was it.  We might have had more luck going the first way.

On Sunday, we got up while it was still dark outside and hiked through the trees to Refugio Amazonas’ 105-foot tall observation platform just in time to see the sunrise. Although we didn’t spy many animals, the sight of the mist-covered treetops with light from the early sun spilling across them was glorious and captivating.  At around 5:30 a.m., another group came up, their mere footfalls making an astonishing amount of noise and rocking the tower.  As soon as they finished ascending, we had to head back for breakfast.  Going down the skinny metal tower stairs terrified me even more than going up. 

After we ate, our guide led us to an oxbow lake near the lodge, and on the way pointed out a tree-termites’ nest.  When we reached the lake, we rowed to the other side to see some gigantic trees.  They start out as vines, setting roots and winding around a larger tree again and again before starting to grow out.  The new growth eventually kills the older plant.  We got to go inside one of the trees to where the original tree used to be.  We also got to climb one of the vines on the first tree.  My dad got really high and said that he could have gone farther, but he thought he better not.  While we were walking back to the lake, the guide showed us an herb with a purplish-reddish juice and painted my face with the natural dye.  When we were back on the water, the guide threw breadcrumbs for the piranhas and sardines that live in the lake.  Immediately the tiny fish attacked the bread, flitting about just under the surface and one or two maybe even semi-jumping.  Luckily, none went after my fingers when I absentmindedly trailed them in the water later in the canoe ride, for which I am grateful.  Next, our guide took us to an uprooted tree or bent log sticking out of the water, with a bunch of miniature bats hanging from it.  He splashed water at them and they flew into the air, scattering, but most returned to the log.  We also saw three macaws flying through the sky and on the path back to the lodge, there were two monkeys.  However, I only saw one of them, swinging and jumping from tree to tree.

Both before and after lunch, we had some time to rest before going to a mammal clay lick.  As many butterflies gathered on the wooden walkway to our room as had alighted on the side-neck turtles’ faces.  A few landed on me.  We also saw dozens of half-green, half-brown lizards in the grass and leaves; a tiny mud-colored lizard on the walkway; a capybara (or maybe an aguti, a giant squirrel-like rodent but without a squirrel’s fluffy tail); and a laughing frog or toad in our bathroom.

I was taking every chance I could to write in my journal on this trip so that I wouldn’t forget anything, but eventually my dad and I got bored.  To pass the time, we went for a short walk down a seldom-used path with good views of the Tambopata River, which also led to an equipment building and a pulley for bringing carts of goods up a steep hill from the river.  We also passed a woman sitting on a bench and practicing the violin, an odd thing to see and hear in the Peruvian jungle.  Near the pulley, my dad saw an animal run across the path, possibly a monkey, but more likely a Peruvian jungle raccoon or some other large ground animal.  Unfortunately, I was keeping an eye to the jungle floor so that I wouldn’t trip and didn’t see it as clearly.  Then we took another side trail to an immense tree that people can climb if they’re willing to pay extra.

At 3:30 p.m., shortly after our quick hike, our guide Jose’ Luis took us to a mammal clay lick, where large animals sometimes gather.  My dad spotted a falcon as we walked, and an unseen monkey growled at us from the bushes for at least five minutes of the trek, maybe even ten.  After arriving at the viewing building and seeing nothing for a while, Jose’ Luis left to try to locate some animals for us.  He found a huge elegant white harpy eagle perched high in a towering tree.  It took me a while to spot the bird, but was definitely worth the time once I could see it.  It was a marvelous creature.  Eventually, we also noticed the mating bats in the dark building, hanging upside-down from the ceiling right above our heads.  Soon after, we returned to the lodge for dinner, my mom not wanting to walk back in the dark.

Right after dinner, we headed to the river for a caiman search.  We were supposed to have gone the night before, but the river had been too high and dangerous.  We saw five caiman plus another huge group of five to ten.  Unfortunately, the big group was in water that was too shallow for the boat, so we couldn’t get very close and I didn’t see any of them.  However, I saw the other five very clearly.  The first was tiny and looked dead, lying on its side halfway in the water with its mouth wide open.  Even when it slipped into the river, it kept its jaws gaping.  Another was so massive that it looked like a log until it started crawling towards the bank.  The rest were all more normal-sized with closed mouths, but pale and ghost-like, just like the others.  On our walk back to the lodge from the river, we saw some giant scorpions without tails that looked like spiders, as well as some glowworms.

Monday morning, we got up around 7 a.m. to pack and eat breakfast.  A woman who came to Refugio with us spotted an aguti next to one of the lodge’s walkways before we left.  We went back to Puerto Maldonado with the same people with whom we had come to Refugio.  During the boat ride back with them, we saw two macaws and some turtles and butterflies, but nothing else.  However, back at the Puerto Maldonado office, we saw three spider monkeys right above our heads, cavorting in the trees.  The two bravest black monkeys came right down to us and one touched my hand, tugging lightly on my bracelet.  One of them almost went into the bathroom (it tried to climb over the wall).  I got to touch the monkeys twice.  The white monkey was shyer and stayed up in the trees, watching us from above.  That was one of my favorite parts of our visit to the Amazon jungle.

After we pulled ourselves away from the monkeys, the Amazonas bus drove us to another bus terminal and we bought some tickets for a night bus back to Cusco.  We found some lunch and ice cream as we strolled to the plaza, where Georgia and my mom stopped to rest.  My dad and I went on towards the Madre de Dios River, only a block or two further.  There we saw a huge bridge being built, the last step in a road from Cusco to Brazil.  We also encountered a nice shady area to hang out in, with hammocks, dogs, chickens, a swing set, a parrot and a nice view of the river and bridge.  We brought Georgia and my mom there and played with the puppies and swung in the hammocks.  The parrot was chewing on a plastic cup but dropped it.  Whenever I tried to give it back to him, he threw it up in the air!  He was a funny bird.  He screeched at his reflection, tried to bite his owner’s fingers and ate messily.  He knew how to say “hola” (hello) and supposedly could say other words too, but we didn’t get to hear them.

After spending an hour or hour and a half in the shady yard, we walked back to the plaza, got some snacks for the bus and some drinks, and went to the bus station to catch our night bus.  In a less comfortable normal seat, I definitely got less sleep on the ride back to Cusco than on the way to Puerto Maldonado.  We arrived in the city early Tuesday morning (about 5 a.m.) and took a local bus back to Pisac, catching another hour or so of sleep before school started.  Our trip to the jungle had come to an end.

-Katie Hastie

Peruvian Snowstorm

Cathy and I headed off to the town of Lares this past weekend for a little rest and relaxation.  Lares is well known locally for its hot springs (which are still hot, unlike many other advertised “hot” springs nearby).  It also has a nice hostal on the grounds of the hot springs for quick and easy access to the soaking tubs.  We left the girls behind at the home of our friends Sandy and Sandra and their kids Niall and Tarn and looked forward to some good long soaks, some alone time, a leisurely hike or two, and the chance to see another part of Peru.

However, things got off to a rocky start from the get-go.  Even before our alarm went off (set for 4 a.m.), we were awakened to the sound of fireworks at about 3:45 in the morning, followed by the nearby church bells clanging away just before 4.  We also walked out of our room to find a steady rain falling (an unusual event for the dry season).  Why such an early alarm, you might ask?  Well, the road to Lares is under construction and only open between 6 p.m. and 7 a.m.  Like many other roads in this area, the road winds up a steep valley, climbing several thousand feet before topping a mountain pass and then descending several more thousand feet to Lares.  To ensure that buses are on the road before it closes for the day, boarding time is 5:30 a.m. in Calca, about a 30 minute drive from our current hometown of Pisac.

So after a quick breakfast of cold leftovers and warm coffee, we walked to the Pisac bus stop, arriving at about 4:30 a.m.  Several high schoolers were already waiting for a bus.  While I haven’t had much luck catching a bus out of Pisac before 5:30, the kids at the bus stop assured us that the first buses arrive before 5.  About 10 minutes after getting to the bus stop, all the lights in town suddenly went out, leaving all of us in the pitch black, rainy morning where we waited until almost 5 before finally seeing a bus approach.  We stuck out our arms to flag the bus, the standard Peruvian custom, especially since we were a block or so away from the official bus stop (which has no shelter).  However, for reasons we couldn’t fathom, the bus barely slowed and didn’t stop for us.  Maybe it didn’t see us in the near-pitch black of the lightless road.  We chased it for a block or so to no avail.  Now we started to worry that we would miss our bus from Calca to Lares and after all the ominous signs, almost headed back home to bed.  But I had paid for the bus tickets the day before and not wanting to lose our precious 14 soles (about $5), we waited for another vehicle to shuttle us to Calca.  

Our patience was rewarded when a collective taxi showed up about 10 minutes later on its way to Calca.  We gratefully hopped in, happy to pay the extra two soles for a faster ride.  As we headed down the road, we discovered that power was out all through the Sacred Valley and each town we passed was surreally dark.  We arrived at the darkened bus terminal at 5:30 where we climbed aboard waited on our bus for about 30 minutes before it departed.  Our first stop was the Calca market where the bus typically takes on more passengers before heading to Lares.  Women selling food also board the bus at this point, giving us a chance to buy some much needed warm tamales.

Finally, the main part of the journey began.  Although the construction project on the road to Lares is a massive one, we saw relatively few workers along the road.  In fact, our taxi driver had told us that the rain had caused most of them to have the day off.  As we ascended I started to see a sprinkling of snow on the upper slopes of the mountains we would need to cross, an unusual sight for this part of Peru in the dry season.  As we passed the town of Totora at about 3,600 meters (12,000 feet) we could see snow falling through the air and a sprinkling of it on the ground.  As we continued to climb, the snow became heavier and we saw more and more accumulating on the road.  Knowing we had close to 2,000 more feet to climb before the pass, we started to worry a bit about our ability to get to Lares.  By the time we passed above the town of Chaipa just above 4,000 meters (over 13,000 feet), we could see at least 6-8 inches of snow on the ground and the pace of the vehicles began to slow, not a bad thing itself on a snow-covered gravel road with precipitous drop-offs everywhere you looked. 

View from the bus window

However, we soon actually stopped, discovering that one of the cars ahead was stuck.  We waited for several minutes while the driver and passengers dug the vehicle out enough to continue, but we found this was just the first of several such stops.  Eventually we got to a point where multiple vehicles ahead of us were stuck.  Several people from our bus got out to help, while others stepped off the bus to collect snowball souvenirs.  One woman put a snowball on her head (under her hat), maybe as some kind of good luck charm.  At this point things looked fairly bleak.  At least two vans and one bus ahead of us were stuck.  Collectively, they had only one shovel among them to dig with.  We were boxed in both in front and behind by other vehicles.  The road was so narrow that there was no place for us or anyone else to turn around.  We still had several hundred feet to climb to reach the pass and plenty of miles of snowy road on the other side to negotiate even if we made it that far.  Visibility was near zero and the snow seemed to falling even harder, with 8-10 inches already on the road.   And we were in a place where people rarely have to deal with snow and generally aren’t equipped to handle that much of it. 

As the wait dragged on, Cathy and I started talking about leaving the bus and hiking back to Calca.  Although we weren't all that excited about a long trek in the snow, we also didn’t relish more waiting in the bus and we strongly suspected that the bus would never make it over the pass.  And even if we did make it to Lares, we worried that we could be stranded there (with our kids back in Pisac) for several days if the weather and road conditions didn’t improve.  We knew that heading back on foot was a bit risky and would be a long walk.  However, we also knew there were houses and villages along the way and plenty of places to take refuge if needed.  And we knew the area since it’s one of the places I’ve been working to install water filters.  Finally, after about 1 ½ hours of waiting in the bus, we decided to head out and take our chances.  We gave a couple of people on the bus our names and contact info just in case someone needed to look for us or call our friends or kids at some point if we didn’t arrive back on schedule.

Heading down the road on foot

We walked and jogged about 1 ½ miles down the snow covered road to the last road junction.  There we were greeted with our first bit of good luck of the day – a truckload of highway workers getting ready to head back down towards Calca.  There was also a van that serves as a local taxi or mini-bus there.  But since the workers were offering us a free ride, we hopped in the back of their pickup.  They also graciously offered us long raincoats to keep as dry as we could as we bumped down the road.  The snow covered hills and valleys we passed were quite beautiful and probably a once-in-a-lifetime sight for us in this part of Peru.

Herding llamas and alpacas in the snow

As the truck descended, the workers stopped frequently to take pictures of snow-covered machinery something they might never see again in their lives.  One of the workers told us they don’t see a snowstorm like this more than once a year, if that.  We also had to stop occasionally to go around shepherds and their herds of llama and/or sheep.  The shepherds were typically wearing hard hats, plastic ponchos and sandals (the only kind of footwear I’ve ever seen people who live in these remote villages wearing).  As we arrived at one more snow-covered equipment spot, one of the workers said something about a “muñeca” (or doll) and the workers began to build a snow-man.  They were like little kids in the first snowfall of the year in the US and I happily joined in the construction project while Cathy took pictures.  Soon another truckload of workers approached, saw what we were doing and stopped to join in the fun.  Ultimately, the workers created one of the best snow-men I’ve seen.  Actually they turned this one into a snow woman, complete with hard hat, walkie-talkie, whistle and scarf.  Cameras emerged from several pockets and everyone went into picture-taking mode, punctuated by the occasional snowball skirmish.  Each time we thought they were done taking pictures, someone shouted “un otra posa” (another pose) and a whole other series began. 

Building the "muñeca"

The proud creators with their finished snow-woman

Eventually we all climbed back into our respective trucks and continued the descent.  By the time we reached Calca, we were pretty wet and cold (one and a half hours driving through the snow and rain in the back of a pickup will do that).  However, we were also incredibly grateful to the workers and quite happy to be back in the valley.  Had we not run into them, we could have been faced with a 10-15 mile walk, much of it in the snow.  We thanked the driver and other workers profusely, returned the raincoats and walked the rest of the way into town.  Once there we splurged for a nicer lunch than we would normally get, including hot soup, chicharones (fried pork) and extra mate (tea).  While not the most comfortable of events, this was quite an unforgettable experience for us and we felt like it easily made up for our aborted trip to the hot springs.  

Matt