Hike to Lamay

A couple of weekends ago, Katie and I went on a very cool hike with my friend Sandy (who I’m volunteering for), his daughter Tarn (who goes to school with Katie) and Sandy’s brother Bill (visiting from Canada).  Katie and I got off to an early start, catching a bus out of Pisac at 5:30 a.m. to the town of Lamay where Sandy lives and where we needed to catch a ride to the start of the hike.  After grabbing some bread at the local community “horno” (oven/bakery) which was just opening its doors, we met Sandy, Tarn and Bill at their house, then all headed down to the town square to catch our ride.  We had expected to be riding in a large truck that travels up to a number of small villages in the mountains above Lamay each Saturday morning at 6:30 a.m.  Typically, quite a few people are packed into the back of these large open air trucks.  However, we were fortunate to ride instead in a warmer “combi” – a large van that generally holds about 12-15 passengers.  I ended up in one of the fold out seats in the back of the “aisle.” The aisle seats have seat backs that are only about 12 inches high.  I also ended up with an extra passenger in the back row sitting about halfway on my lap.  She was an older woman who insisted on taking an “empty” seat in the back even though it was being reserved for a friend of the guy sitting next to me.  Once the friend showed up, we were pretty cramped back there.  All of this, combined with a very bumpy hour-long ride on a fairly rough dirt road, and the fact that I had neglected to go to the bathroom just before leaving, made for a less than ideal ride.  Lesson #1: Never pass up a chance to go to the bathroom before a trip.

We hopped out of the combi at approximately the high point on the road (about 14,000 feet elevation) sort of in the middle of nowhere between two small villages and about a mile from the nearest home.  Sandy’s plan was to hike over an adjacent mountain pass or saddle, then down into the next valley which he had not previously explored.  There we expected to find a large trail that would eventually take us to another trail, then to a road in the valley we started from, and eventually leading back to Sandy’s house in Lamay.  Depending on our energy level and time, we would either walk or hitch a ride the rest of the way back to Sandy’s place.

So off we went towards our intended pass.  We reached it without much problem as we were well above the tree line and it was easy to see.  We did get our feet soaked a bit, treading through some unavoidable marshy areas.  We stopped at the pass to quickly climb a higher point on the ridge (at about 15,000 feet elevation) and have a snack.  We had views down into both the valley we’d come from and the one we would drop into, amid swirling mist from clouds blowing over the ridge-top and temporarily enveloping us.  We then headed down towards the next valley and also in search of a lake shown on our map.  The footing was a bit rough as we hiked down a steep slope through tall “bunch grass” intermixed with mossy rocks and the occasional hole. 

At the highest place I've ever been (so far)  - 15,000 feet

After a while we spotted a narrow trail (probably used mostly by shepherds and their flocks of sheep and alpaca) that traversed the hillside.  This ultimately led us to the lake we had been seeking.  As we headed down towards the lake, we surprised a flock of sheep which was climbing the hillside towards us.  Unfortunately for their shepherd (a boy of about 10 or 11), the sheep quickly turned around and headed back the other way.  Although we were pretty sure he wasn’t too happy with us, the shepherd didn’t show it and helped point us towards a safe path down the somewhat “cliffy” slope (as Sandy put it) towards the lake.  We had joked about taking a swim there but the weather was definitely not cooperating and we couldn’t convince Katie to do some cliff diving from the 20-foot tall rocks on the far side of the lake.

Katie at a mountain lake (with llama grazing on the other side)

As we quickly descended a particularly slippery section of slope, my feet slide out from under me and I took a nice, muddy fall onto my backside.  Lesson #2: Take it easy on the steep slippery sections.  After dropping the rest of the way into the base of the valley, we stopped for another food break and to take refuge from a steadily falling rain.  We hunkered down in small shelter under a large rock, probably dug out by a local shepherd to also avoid bad weather.  We then connected with the trail we had been looking for which took us down valley past large potato fields and scattered homes, passing only one or two people walking up the valley towards other homes or villages.  After awhile we were overtaken by a young guy who was also headed towards Lamay and had been hiking since dawn.  He suggested we continue on our path (a very nice wide dirt road or track) into the town of Huama where he assured us there would be taxis able to take us to Lamay.  While a bit out of the way, this sounded like a good plan.  By this time, the sun had started to emerge as well and it promised to be a lovely, warm afternoon.

Just before reaching Lamay we passed a pre-Incan site with ancient stone walls and building foundations and on an adjacent hillside, burial tombs.  We didn’t have time to check out the tombs but did stop at the old foundations to look for pottery shards and were rewarded with finding several small pieces, some with geometric designs and all probably several hundred or even thousands of years old.  We also passed some women tending livestock who pointed us in the direction of the best path down to Huama (and we hoped a waiting taxi).  As we started to walk in the wrong direction, one of the women called out to Sandy in Quechua (the local indigenous language) something to the effect of “hey old man, you’re going the wrong way.”  We all got a good laugh out of this once Tarn translated for us.

Heading down into Huama

After one of two more wrong turns, we finally found the most direct path towards the center of town.  As we wound down this path between potato and wheat fields, we spotted a group of about 20 or 30 farmworkers sitting in the field for their communal lunch break.  We gave them a wave and they in turn waved us over to join them.  Since it is bad form to turn down local hospitality in Peru, we ambled over to join them, being careful not to trod on any potato plants along the way.

A few of the workers spoke Spanish and did most of the talking for the group as many of the others spoke primarily Quechua, with maybe just a few words of Spanish.  They urged us to sit down and share their meal with them, expecting nothing in return.  The food included piles of cooked potatoes and corn on a cloth and a plate of rice and potato stew which they gave to us to share.  Of course it also included the local corn beer, chicha (see my earlier post about “communing with the stone workers” for more info about this very interesting beverage).  Again, not wanting to offend their hospitality and somewhat making up for Bill’s apparent aversion to chicha (he only had one cup), I felt compelled to drink about three glasses before we left.  Though we could have lingered for quite some time (or at least until the lunch break was over), we eventually explained that we were late for a lunch being prepared by my wife Cathy (who was actually expecting us at any minute) and we bade the group farewell and much thanks.  The warmth and hospitality of the group is typical of what I have experienced from the people of this country and probably what stuck with me most after the hike.

Our next job was to find a taxi, which we did after a bit more walking.  Unfortunately, the owner was nowhere to be seen and a passing boy told us he was probably out working his field (maybe we had just shared lunch with him).  Lesson #3: Don’t count your Peruvian taxis before you’re in them.  So we continued through town and down the road towards the valley of Lamay.  Eventually we spied a taxi heading up towards Huama and eventually that same taxi came back down the road to pick us up.  We finally arrived back at Sandy’s place in Lamay at about 3:45 (only an hour or so later than planned) where my wife Cathy had prepared a wonderful lunch for us.  She, Georgia and Sandy’s son Nial had held off eating until just before we walked in the door (probably wondering if we would ever show up).  The lunch was a great way to finish a very fun and eventful little adventure.

Back at Sandy's house in Lamay

Matt

Machu Picchu: Why Do We Travel?

Why do we travel?  To see interesting places and have new experiences outside of our normal routine.  The great waterfalls and mountaintops, the luscious jungles and pleasant, sunny beaches titillate our senses and remind us how big, how diverse and how amazing our natural world is. 

But even more captivating than the sights and sounds of exotic plants and animals are those of the people who live and travel in these foreign places.  However intriguing a hairy llama, or a rabbit-like rodent peering at us from atop a crumbling rock wall, the llama’s owner, dressed in colorful garb to attract the attention of camera-loving tourists, or the ancient indentured builder who created those now half-fallen walls, draw us in on a deeper level.  While it may be the natural features that attract our attention in the first place, it is the human element in each new environment that links us to it and makes it meaningful.  The majesty of the Manchu Picchu site, surrounded by towering rocks that jut vertically on every side, is awe-inspiring and beautiful in and of itself.  Add the amazing ancient development, human-conceived and human-built, and the scary switch backs of the modern road that brings us to it, and our minds reach for more than just a simple appreciation of the greenery amongst the impressive rocks.  It is the people, past and present that make traveling to this place special. 

During both the planning of our trip and our visit to Manchu Picchu, we interacted with a wide variety of people.  The professional tour guide, who sold us the expensive tickets for both the train ride and entrance to the site, works in Cusco, the largest city in the region.  She wears what we would call business casual, sitting behind a desk on the main tourist drag in the main tourist city.  She speaks English and seems every bit the modern city woman, with neat, shiny, black hair that hangs down to her shoulders and rosy, polished nails.

Some of our fellow hostel dwellers, new age hippie types, wear patterned, gauzy harem pants with the inseam hanging down below knee level.  They look as if they have come straight from smoking a hookah at a middle eastern bazaar.  Others wear patchwork pants and unapologetic, multi-patterned clothes that hide stains easily:  the traveling garb of professional wanderers.  These people speak in eloquent terms of the healing power and the spiritual aura of Manchu Picchu.  They come to commune with other like-minded searchers in an ancient and powerful place full of historic profundity.  They burn incense in their rooms and leave their dirty dishes forgotten in the community kitchen.

Along the way to the famous archeological site, we moved through the now familiar Castellano hustle and bustle of taxi drivers and food hawkers in the modern cities of Urubamba and Ollantaytambo.  But, as we stepped onto the only means of transport to Manchu Picchu, the tourist train, it was like falling into a suburban American outpost, hidden within the narrow walls of the sterile, light-infused train compartment.  English was spoken – loud and clear.  People all of a sudden were three shades lighter and thirty pounds heavier.  Seating was assigned, but it seemed the ticketing agents used a random selection method for every group.  A game of musical chairs ensued until families were seated together and friends sat near friends.  Almost as soon as we had all settled and the train jerked into motion, the family across the aisle from us whipped out a grocery bag full of junk food and spread it across their table.  Among the delicacies that we didn’t know you could purchase in Peru were Ritz crackers, cookies, an aluminum squeeze container of mixed peanut butter and jelly, fruit, soda pop and other typical, big city foodstuff.  

Upon arrival at Aguas Caliente - the city that serves Machu Picchu’s tourist needs, such as $5 hostel beds and $5 pizzas - we witnessed an architectural style reminiscent of the Mercado (the open air market).  Buildings squeezed up against one another in a very busy, cacophonous, vertical design.  Restaurant owners stood outside their establishments vocally advertising their specials (all of the specials are the same in Aguas Caliente – competition for tourist dollars is strong).  The town rises up steeply from a muddy, raging river within the confines of a small footprint of buildable space.  The main road winds up about 5 city blocks to the top of the town.  There is situated the famous hot springs for which the town is named.  You know you are drawing near when the vendors’ capitalistic mating call changes from “pizza – 25 soles” to “towels for rent – 5 soles”.

The people here hawk hard.  There seems to be a quiet desperation beneath their calm and sunny faces.  The entire town of Aguas Caliente depends solely on tourist dollars.  There are no bakeries or butcher shops here; no services for the residents themselves.  This town exists only for us – the rich Americans coming to see one of the world’s most famous archeological sites.  There is a rumor that UNESCO, the governing body of funding for special sites like Machu Picchu, wants to close it to tourism to halt the heavy toll of so much human use.  If the rumor becomes a reality, entire segments of Peru’s population would become unemployed overnight.  Aguas Caliente would cease to exist.  Peru itself would fall into an economic depression unheard of since the drying up of jungle resources in the last century.  Desperation would rise exponentially.

Our family spent the night in a flea-bag hostel (literally – I have the bites to prove it) with windows in the rooms that looked into the interior corridor.  They did not lock and walls smelled of moldy plaster.  Sleeping was a moist, noisy and uncomfortable affair.  We got up early the next morning and took a bus up a long, winding road, listening along the way to a variety of Japanese, French, Spanish and English tour guides educating their clients.

When we finally reached the ancient Machu Picchu, the fog shrouded it all so thickly that we could barely see 20 feet in front of us.  But the day improved with time.  By 10 am, we had covered the entire site from within our veil of moist mist (we had arrived quite early).  Matt and the girls decided to hike up an amazing pinnacle of rock connected to Machu Picchu by a thin saddle of land, called Huayna Picchu.  They set off in the fog and were rewarded at the top with a sudden reversal of weather.  Sunny skies blessed them with the best view of Machu Picchu and the Urubamba river that surrounds it like a snake encircling its prey.

The rest of the day was hot and sunny.  We retraced our steps and re-visited the entire site again, touching the huge rocks carved with 32 angles to fit perfectly within the walls of an important religious building, and wondering at the Intihuatana, an erect stylus of stone believed to have been used to measure time and track celestial patterns.  Katie, Georgia and I added on a trip to the perilous Incan Bridge.  The bridge itself is only a few large planks of wood laid across a gap in the path – thus forming a rudimentary bridge.  However, the real majesty of the site is the path itself, carved literally out of the face of a sheer granite cliff.  This path was the most impressive part of Manchu Picchu that I witnessed, both in its engineering and its apparent lack of concern for loss of life of the workers who built it.  Obviously, the indentured workers took great risks to create it.  The vertical drop from where they carved out the width of the path - barely as wide as my shoulders – was thousands of feet, straight down the majestic, smooth cliff.

The people who made this amazing place were amazing themselves, kings and commoners alike.  They built in a remote and jaw-dropping location, barely accessible and truly astounding in its natural and topographical beauty, not because it was close to resources – it wasn’t – but because these people thrilled at the sense of doing amazing things, living close to god in amazing places and doing the impossible.  Andean people to this day seek out high points for a sense of accomplishment and celebration, running impossibly straight up to the top of the highest hill in long lines of dancing revelers during important ceremonies. 

Andean people built Machu Picchu because they could.  And that is what makes traveling to this incredible historic site more than just a photographer’s dream.  It truly makes the visitor stop and consider why he himself exists, what she hopes to do with her life.  Although our legacies won’t be 5-miles wide and built from stone, this site reminds us that we can set our sites higher; we can do the impossible.  We should do it; because we can.

Cathy

My Birthday

I know that my birthday was a few weeks ago, March 27th, but I haven't gotten around to updating the blog until today.

We eventually decided to invite five families: the family that lives here, and four friends' families. Georgia and I spent all week making the piñata, which we modeled after the face of the hospedaje dog, Luca. The day of the party, which was also the day that we got back from Machu Picchu, I spent the morning making streamers, and the rest of the day decorating with them and setting up in various other ways.

The hospedaje family got here first, of course, because they live here. Next to arrive were the Canadians that my family is working with--Tarn, the daughter, is in my class. Tika, another girl in my class, and her family were next to arrive, and finally Urpi got there, right before we were about to start the piñata. Before that we mostly ate and talked a little. My final guest, a girl in my class that always asks me if I want to play with her at recess, never showed up.

A little way into the second round of piñata-whacking, the piñata fell, cracked but still mostly intact, and I got to finish bashing it open. Everyone dived for the candy, as with every piñata, and one boy from the hospedaje seized half of the broken dog head to put his booty in.

After everyone gathered and ate candy for a few minutes, we had cake and presents. My mom had baked the cake at the colonial oven, where everyone takes their food to be baked, because many people don't have ovens of their own, including us. It was chocolate with chocolate frosting and delicious. I saved the presents to open later and we organized a game of tag.

Although everyone had arrived late, they all left on time. When they were gone, we cleaned up and went out for dinner. After we got home, I opened the presents in my parents room and the next day, I wrote thank-you notes and passed them out. From my friends I got a pencil pouch, two little change purses, a friendship bracelet, a stone frog on a lily pad, a necklace, a hat, a metal bracelet, some big wooden crayons, and a soft, floppy doll. From my family, I received a small shoulder bag, a stuffed animal llama, a soft, gray sweater/shirt, a picture of the mountain that we see from the hospedaje balcony every day, and brown, fuzzy slippers.

Overall, it was a pretty good party, even though I wasn't looking forward to having my birthday in Peru.

By Katie

School at Kusi Kawsay

      Kusi Kawsay (pronounced like Koosy Cow-sigh) is the school that Katie and I are going to during our stay in Peru. It's a good school, but their way of doing things is very different than in the States. Everyone have to arrive at 8:20. Then at 8:30 they ring the bell and all the kids line up at the door.  Before entering the classroom, one by one, everyone says good morning to the teacher. When you get to your seats, you sit down and the teacher says: "very good mornig dear students." and you answer back: "very good morning dear teacher."

      For classes, they have the same scheduale every week. One class for two hours (which changes every month), then a half an hour recess, then a one hour class, then a twenty minute recess and finally another one hour class. For example, on Mondays I have art and lecture, Tuesdays reading and painting, Wednesdays math and Quechua, Thursdays gym and art and Fridays communication and english. This month my two hour class is fractions.  Last month my two-hour class was local history. I learned about the celebrations of Pisac and the rural communities up in the mountains. I also learned about constalations.

     The classrooms are seprate buildings that you enter from an outside walkway. The playground is a small field with a couple of boulders in the middle. The main game that people play at recess is tag.  Here is a picture of the school from near the entrance gate.

    Before leaving at the end of the day, one by one the kids say to the teacher: "see you tomorrow" and then the teacher says it.

    So, that's basically what this school is like.


       Georgia

Blog Updates

We know we haven't done much posting lately but are trying to remedy that.  I've added some links to a couple of great organizations we're affiliated with here - read more in the sidebar to the right and check out the links there.  Georgia and Katie will be posting articles soon (within the next week or so).  And we continue to add photos from our journeys (also on the sidebar to the right).  A few other quick updates:

- School continues to go well for the girls (even though Katie reported having the worst school day of the year earlier this week) and both Katie and Georgia are constantly improving their spanish speaking skills (frequently correcting Cathy and I when needed).

- Cathy was bitten by a dog this week but after multiple visits to the doctor and the dog's owner (who claims it was some other dog that bit Cathy), we think everything is going to be fine.  Cathy finishes teaching her ceramics class this week but has also started teaching English at the girls' school and is giving lessons to several residents of Pisac in her spare time.

- I continue my work helping to build biosand water filters - mostly pouring concrete filter containers, helping refine the design for a new PVC biosand filter and exercising my math skills to do calculations for the new filter, and going on the occasional field trip to the communities where DESEA will be providing filters later this year.

- Our next family trip will be to the town of Puno and Lake Titicaca in southern Peru.  From everything we've heard, we can expect a beautiful and fascinating trip, including visits to several islands within the lake and an overnight stay with a family on one of those islands.

That's all for now.  More to come soon from Katie and Georgia.

Matt