The thing about bus rides… Friday and Saturday 2/17-2/18/12

I turns out that when you take a bus, the estimated duration of your trip is just that. An estimation.

For me, that meant that my twenty-one hour bus ride quickly (or slowly…) became a twenty-six and a half hour one because of rockslides that blocked the road. It’s a good thing the bus was as interesting as it was.

As whole it was a pretty surreal experience.

Laura and I boarded the bus at night to find neatly folded fleece blankets embroidered with the bus company’s logo, Cruz del Sur, and pillows in our front row reclining seats on the second story of the bus. Once the bus started moving, we were served hot tea and played a bus wide game of bingo (Still a little unclear on the rules… but we might have almost won?). We went to sleep in the cold rainy Andes, woke up on roads sandwiched between vertical slopes and GIANT rivers and again in snowy fields. Then we drove through vineyards, the Nazca lines, and ended up in a desert by the ocean to arrive in Lima. A simultaneously nausea and awe inducing experience.
Also during the bus ride: talked to a cool Argentinian couple sitting close by, almost got left at a bathroom in Ica (little city on the way), made a surprise stop at this confusing restaurant because we were so late (also in Ica), and watched tons of movies. Why a bus company would ever choose to play “The Lovely Bones” right before the bus’s arrival in a giant city is beyond me.

After arriving and navigating the bus station with our unwieldy luggage, we hailed a taxi and headed to our hotel in the beautiful Miraflores district.

There we were reunited with another friend, Ivana, who arrived in Peru early to visit old family friends. Over lemonade, valentine chocolate, and lúcuma (a weirdly enticing sweet potato like fruit that is super typical of Peru), we played round after round of cards and rehashed our weeks while waiting for the arrival of the rest of the Davidson group, until we gave up and collapsed into clean sheets and still beds before midnight.

Quechua, Coca, and Futból

Today I had my last Quechua class and banana milk for breakfast. Josie and I explored San Blas a bit and the Square behind Plaza de Armas (in Quechua, it’s name is the equivalent of “place to be happy”). For any Winston-Salem readers, San Blas reminds me of the West End in that its buildings are historic, there are hills everywhere, and it is within walking distance of the center of the city. Instead of the occasional fig or mulberry tree, there is an orange fruit that appears unexpectedly. Unlike Winston-Salem however, these streets are vertical, and instead of 19th century farmhouses, here there are 17th century Spanish buildings built atop ancient Incas walls. Also, there is a lot less English.

The combination of Spanish and Inca is very present and very interesting. For example, one street is called Kiskapata, which means “spine street” in Quechua (named after the cactus that presumably once grew there), and a street only blocks away is Calle Siete Angelitos, Seven Angels Street, a Spanish name which references Catholicism. Within San Blas, there can be a Spanish church within a square of shops bearing Inca names. I think one of the most interesting things about Cusco that I have found, is that the city doesn’t seem to find any contradiction in its dual espousalof these two cultural inheritances.

After a giant lunch of soup, lentils, rice, salsa, and juice, some chocolate, reading, and a nap I returned to San Blas. This time, the coca museum! Coca is one of the most sacred and important crops around here, and as Mark Adams explains in this great book Turn Right At Machu Picchu the Andes has been running on coca for centuries. They serve as mild narcotic, appetite suppressant, and treatment for altitude sickness. Historically farmers would rise with the sun and chew on coca leaves while tending their crops until they could go home and eat the afternoon. They are sometimesused as offerings in religious rituals. When I arrived in Cusco, I had cups and cups of Coca de mate tea so I would not fell sick (it does not have a very strong taste, but after so many mystery cups of tea at the eco-house, I drink pretty much any kind of tea without much questioning) and had my first experience with the leaves at Pisac on Sunday. It might have helped? You are supposed to chew on the leaves until they turn to pulp forming pockets of coca in the cheeks of your mouth. Many of the statues at the coca museum featured sculptures of people with cheeks full of coca. If you keep it on one side of you mouth, it can make your mouth tingle. Eventually, you spit it out and DON’T SWALLOW. I found that out a bit too late but was thankfully spared of possible consequences (apparently coca can also be a diuretic). Today I also learned Coca’s creation myth.

In the time of the Incas there was a beautiful women with green skin, even darker green skin, and almond shaped eyes, and wherever she went men fell in love with her. As the museum worded it, “she gave freely of her love” but would not settle down. So she left a string of broken hearts and problems wherever she went. Finally she was captured and brought before the Inca. Although he too was instantly smitten, he had her killed and her body separated and buried around the empire. Then in the place where she lay buried a mysterious plant grew. It was brought to the Inca, who had become depressed after the beautiful woman’s death. When he saw the plant, he instinctually began to chew on its leaves, and his sadness was alleviated. When he asked the plant’s names, the people said “Coca”.
The museum also featured a replica of and excavated child’s corpse, the child apparently calmed with alcohol and Coca had dies of hypothermia as a sacrifice. They of course featured Evo Morales, a controversial (and the first indigenous) president of Bolivia often accused by outsiders of protecting cocaleros (or coca growers).
I learned about the development of cocaine from coca. Did you know Freud was an early advocate for the drug as a panacea for many illnesses? The process of making cocaine is also pretty involved and requires 5 or 6 steps. There was cocaine in Coca-Cola until the early 1900s, and even now there is a coca flavoring in it. Its processing plant in New Jersey is apparently the only place in the US authorized to import coca.

The creepiest part of the museum was a tiny room crying the dangers of cocaine use. This full size human model lay, supposedly dead from a cocaine overdose on a smell bed with a needle by his side. In that room there were posted photos of celebrities who had suffered from cocaine addictions. The two I’d heard of were Amy Winehouse and Whitney Houston.

Apparently Cocaine use is problem in Cusco. Sometimes people mix cocaine with what I think is translated as plaster, and tourists stupidly try it and make themselves really ill.

After my educational exploration of Coca, I met Laura and her friends from school for pizza in the centro. It was great! (There is no sauce on the pizza here). And then al partido del futból! (To the soccer game!) This was a scrimmage of Cusco versus La Paz, in preparation for the big game this weekend. The Cusco team has been very good in the past, in 2003 they become the only Peruvian team to win a South American title (I’m fuzzy on the details), but have not been so good lately. Still los scientifos as they are called are fun to watch. Often fans wear red ponchos (because it often, like it did today, rains) or other garb (red is the team’s color), so the stands are often masses of the team’s color. There are groups of people in the stands who light firecrackers, or something similar, when exciting things happens, and for most of the time we were there, there were two clashing spirit bands on opposite ends of the stadium. Also memorable, moche, carincha, and anticucho! While there we sampled moche, this hot sweet beverage, carincha, popcorn, and anticuho, beef hearts on stick with potato. The anticucho was delicious, and Laura liked the moche…nobody else was a fan. A vendor there insisted on giving me an opened packet of smurf shaped gummies.

Now I’m back at Zaguán del Cielo under my covers in my hat, wool socks, and sweater. What a time.

Valentines in Cusco Tuesday, 2/14/2012

Lots of Quechua today. Today I learned past tense (pasado simple y imperfecto) and more words. Jesus, the director of Amigos Spanish school, invited me to come see the local students that the Amigos supports with him. Also I went to the market with Josie. Had lunch around 1:30 (so hungry) of soup, rice with potato, chicken, and pepper, and peppers and corn. It was good, but I think after this semester, I won’t be able to look at another potato for a while. At lunch I pulled out the conversations hearts my mom convinced me to bring, and we read the phrases out loud while I translated. How do you translate “Shake it?” to a Peruvian grandmother? Overall I think they were a hit. Raul copied a piece of Quechua down for me. He’s a gem.

This afternoon I ate chocolate and napped until meeting Laura at 4:30 pm. While waiting, I met a kid Kevin who called himself Pablo Picasso and tried to sell me his artwork. Talk about panache. I told him when I was rich and old, then I would buy his cards. Soon enough Laura arrived and we wandered around San Blas a bit. San Blas is artsy historic district, a neighborhood with practically vertical streets close to plaza de armas. It has a cool central square and, like the rest of Cusco, many dogs. We looked for the San Cristobal Church but didn’t find it on this trip but did discover what is apparently one of Peru’s famed gay and lesbian nightclubs and a pre-Colombian art museum. I hope Josie and I will be able to wander around there for a bit tomorrow.

Then we headed to cooking class at Fairplay. We “made” (we actually only snapped peas and peeled potatoes) papas rellenas or stuffed potatoes. The whole process took about two and a half hours. The class attracts quiet a crowd: students form fairplay, but also friends and guests of students who have heard about the program. Margaux brought in a giant cake that we shared. Tomorrow is the soccer match (turns out it is actually a scrimmage…the real match is Saturday).

Market, Pachahutec, and Dance Monday, 2/13/12

Another big day. A brief itinerary follows:
• Breakfast of bread and tea.
• Class. Briefly talked to friends and family, watched a bit of Peruvian TV, had class, went to Mercado San Pedro with Josie, and made it home without getting lost! Also kind of helped Jesus translate something for his business: “Function as a Eurocentre in all but name”
• Lunch with tons of people at home: Valeria and Augusto (nietos), sus padres (Raul y pareja), Patricia (I think), Dina, Raul, and Marcela. Lunch was sopa, arroz con papa y carne, choclo con queso, y jugo
• Exploring with Laura: museum and site of Qorikancha (the most dimly lit museum with the most confusing English I have ever been in…they tried to explain Incan cosmology), the bus station, the Pachahutec monument, the juice shop (frupasion and a pineapple, spinach, tomato, and cheese sandwich), and the folk music and dances (dance of bulls, two about birds, a two person dance called the mariner apparently popular all over Peruthough this one was from the north, etc.)
• RAIN! Taxi home


Today’s Lessons:
• Carry a copy of your passport
• Carry small bills and change
• Say “De nada” instead of “con gusto” for you are welcome

More:
Quechua is still beautiful and foreign. Today I learned about verbs. And some other new things too: alco is dog, michi is cat, and there is no word for horse in Quechua so the Spanish “caballo” becomes “cawallo”.

Today I sampled tuna (the fruit of the cactus) and bought some fruit from the market. The market is a very diverse place. It looks like a giant warehouse with aisles and aisles of goods fro sale. We started with artisan goods like sweaters ad hats reading “Cusco” and moved across to food and flowers. The market includes massive juice aisles (when you walk down them women call to you to buy their juice). There is another area full of these pizza-sized rounds of bread, all from the same town. The economic skeptic within me is amazed that they can all make a living with so little diversification. I saw dried potatoes (and later had them in my soup at lunch), fish eggs, and dried sheep and llama (these wide strips of cracked white meat hanging in stalls). Then there is the rest of the meat section. I am glad to have seen it, but cow mouths and pig carcasses (or their smell) can’t hold much intrigue for me now. I am excited to try the fruit I bought as well: cherimoya, Durazno, y …(una fruta parecida al melón)

The Pachahutec monument is cool. Laura likened it earlier to the statue of liberty, and I think it is an apt description. Imagine a twenty golden sculpture of an Inca staff in hand and cloak streaming behind him on top of circular building (like a nine story non-leaning tower of Pisa). He is big enough that all of our photos from the top only show parts of him. Inside of the Pisa tower, there is museum on the Inca Empire and Pachahutec. It talked a lot about the mystical legend of the Incas conquering another group, rivers, and Pachahutec. The monument’s most interesting characteristic for me is its total adoration for Pachahutec and the Inca Empire. The Spanish are referred to exclusively as invaders (which is accurate), but the Inca’s conquest is portrayed as a clear-cut good, a noble and powerful act. I don’t think it is that simple, but I admire the monument’s assurance of its mission. One wall discusses Inca legacy with spotlights on people with the last name Pachahutec. It also seems to feel connected to that legacy of mystical events of Inca history. It reported that when the monument was found lightening struck the building giving and three jubilant eagles appeared above. Maybe it did happen that way. More likely it seems to express a view of history as if through a blurry lens, as a mystical cycle full of signs, beauty, and contradictions.

Pisac! Sunday 2/12/2012

Today was a fun day. Today Elin, another studen (from Iceland) living with my host family left for the sacred valley for a week. Before she did we went to the Starbucks in the plaza de armas so she could use the computer and I could wait for Laura, a Davidson friend also in Cusco. After an hour of sipping coffee and learning more about Elin’s life and Iceland (for example Elin LOVES dogs. Her favorites include a mutt with an under bitewho lives of her Spanish school here and her brother’s pit-bull, Tarde. But she is now considering cats as a possible pet too, because in Iceland she was living in a friend’s storage room at the street level, and cats keep climbing into her bedroom from outside. So she would wake up with a cat on her pillow and liked it. Also in Iceland, it take a long time for money to transfer from one currency to the other, because the government fears financial collapse if many citizens give up on kronos and save their money in other currencies. She has some very cool life philosophies, and really has helped me take advantage of my time in Cusco. One lesson from her that I think will be good to adopt is “your day ends every day at midnight, and you never get it back, so use your days with that knowledge”), I spotted Laura from across the street and we met wahoooo!

It was so great to see a friend! We went to her house, picked up two of her friends from school, Steen from Belgium and Margaux from Holland (and dual citizenship in the US) and headed to Pisac! Pisac is a little village about 45 minutes away from Cusco. And what a trip. Today we saw an overturned bus on the way. Apparently there are many accidents on the public buseshere, because they are so olds. I’ve stopped looking for seatbelts on Taxis. Once in Pisac we wandered around the market and happened upon some cool things. We went to a mass (ok, 5 minutes of) in Quechua (the only word I recognized was alleluia…decidedly not Quechua) and found beautiful cemetery.Very cool. The centrality of the family in life here shows itself here I think in that there are fresh flowers everywhere. People cut off the tops of soda bottle and use them as vases. There was even a grave with lit candle son it and another with a beer left on it like an offering. That last addition is less weird than it may seem. In ancient times (1500s and before?), beverages and food were daily offered to the mummified Incas and ritually burned. There is also a lot of pride in La Cerveza Cusqueña, the local beer (brewed in a factory right next to my house. It’s HUGE. There are stacks of crates 20 feet high just of beer).

We then hit up a local bakery for lunch of empanadas and choclo con queso. Choclo is a kind of corn very popular here; it’s kernels are larger than what is normal in the states, and the cheese is good too…kind of goaty and semi-hard?The restaurant itself is cool. In the center back wall of the place there is a giant wood fired oven where the empanadas are cooked and to the left, is a raised pen of guinea pigs, or cuy, a Peruvian menu staple. We passed this item on the cuy, but before I leave I think I want to eat one. They are cooked hole and come served whole with mouth open as in mid scream. When in Rome… right? The toilet door did not shut, there was no toilet paper or seat, but it did flush!


We walked back through the market, y finalmente, I tasted fruit! We had what after a long discussion with my host mom Dina is granadilla (maybe passion fruit in English?) and Cherimoya. Granadilla is a small orange fruit with a hard rind that you can more or less crack open. Inside the fruit looks a lot like fish eggs in that it is filled with many whitish sacks of pulp with tiny back seeds in the middle. Cherimoya is green with juicy white pulp filled and large black seeds inside.
Then we took a taxi to the top and began walking! Margaux does not do well with heights and returned to Pisac, where we met her later. Styn, Laura, and I after some vacillating decided to hire a guide to show us around. A good choice. This place was rally cool. Here is the stream of consciousness resuscitation of all that we learned.
• Pisac was primarily used for agriculture. Much of the land is made up of terrazas or terraces which helped farming. Many of the m follows the contours of the mountain. Up until five years most of the land was still used to grow Quinos, maiz, and other things, but is noy lying fallow so that it can become fertile again.
• Inca Society was divided into three groups: the Inca (the ruler), the nobles, and the pueblo (or towns). Society wasfurtherbisected among the pueblo between th short people, called La Morena, and the tall people, hatunsomething ,hatun means big in Quechua). People were most isolated in that they lived on family vincas or farm, and because of the landscape and societal divisions, it was hard to travel from one place to another.
• There were several purifications baths, ehich are very important in Inca cultures. These baths are from sources up the mountain and froma lake farther away in the dry season. From the same sources are drains that fed/feed the terrazas and the towns close by. According to our guide Julio there was detailed in their knowledge that made each drain the right size for the appropriate amount of water to flow to the village.
• Much of the architecture for Incas is inspired by animals. For example, Cusco is in the shape of the puma, and we saw atown shaped like the pisaca, a small birdsimlar to the chicken.
• Incan buildings are often building so that leans lsight inward, and often the stone sare cut so that they interlace. Bith of these design choices makes the buildings tronger in earthquakes
• We saw also where the virgens of the sun (they were nto sacrifices, but were women, real virgins, who dressed especially, lived individually, and wore symbolic clothings and had specials role in Inca ceremonies) and the hitching post of the sun. Laura read that on another rplace and it makes sense here too, people ceremonially tied up the sun every day so that it would return after the night. That are was laos used to make scalendarpredicitons.
• And much much more that my tired brain can get now

As we hike down, we were followed u by a little girl selling belts and bracelets. After trying to dissuade her and failedattempt’s at bargaining. Laura andI bought two belts from her. So many kidshere work. Styn told us we earnedour heaven for helping the little girl. It is a strange thing to see little children who you genuinely want to help but are also being used specifically because you wan to help them. I’m still working out how I feel about that. One if the most popular rackets/ businesses, depending on your attitude, is for local people to get you to hold a lamb and pay to have a picture taken with it. Thenwe found Margaux, took a coletivo back to Cusco. Colectivos are vans that hold s 10 or twelves people. They are more expensive, and in my opinion safe, than public buses, but costs less than taxis.

Margaux and Styn are hilarious. I am learning so much about Europe in Peru! There is a lot of rivalry between Holland and Belgium, and they often argue about which is better. We learned a little Dutch today. Klaus is glass, bank is bank and couch, and bodgobber (maybe?) is bedroom. Topya is top, ya is yes, and nein is no. they thought our attempts to pronounce thinks was hilarious. Styn is studying physical education in Belgium and is also studying abroad and doing volunteer work here. He plays soccer, and used to play goalie for the premier league. Margaux’s dad is from the states, and her mom is from Holland, so she has dual citizenship. She’s finished school and is taking a gap travelling. Also, turns out Laura loves Lord of The Rings; and she is right, Pisac did look like Morador.

Also, today I had my first coca leaves!!!!!
I have been drinking coca tea at least twice a day since I arrived,, but this was my first experience with the leaves. You chew them in your mouth until they disintegrate and then spit them out. The Andes historically ran on Coca. It works as a treatment for altitude sickness, mils stimulant, and hunger suppressant. Campesinos would take some withthem when they wen to work in the fields at sunrise end it would keep them going until they came home to eat in the afternoon. As great as it sounds, don’t swallow it! I did not realize this until too late, but thankfully I have not felt any terrible effects. Apparently mint also helps with altitudesickness and settles the stomach.

After parting ways with Styn and Margaux, Laura and I headed toward the center of the city. While orienteering ourselves we stumbled into la iglesia y monasterio Santa Catalina. Like most churches here itis filled with the smell of incense and many saints. Paintings and doll like statues depicting the Virgin Mary, Saint Frances, and others. Along with other paintings of Jesus, there was a glass class with a life size recreation of a suffering Jesus. Capturing the anguish of Jesus seems to be prominent n the Catholic art I ‘ve seen here so far. At the tops the arches in the church, there were painted angels. However unlike most places, the angels were depicted as children in modern clothing like jeans and t-shirts. This church with its combination of the ancient story of Jesus’s crucifixion amidst t-shirt clad angels built in the midst if the most sacred place for the Inca empire speaks to Peru’s, and specifically Cusco’s peculiar legacy of destruction, survival, and fusion of the old and new.

Once again I got lost trying to get home, but I persevered! After directions froma store man who asked me where I was from and told me I spoke great Spanish (ithas been really validating to be with other students and to be so effective in communicating in Spanish. I could translate the tour and ask for directions etc), two confusing old men, and a woman who invited me to come to her house and walked me part of the way (I said no…but part of me wished I hadn’t. Ilda (I think) is her name. She was born in raised in Cusco which she is very proud of, and was very excited to know and American), I got home! Marcela served me bread, rice, eggs, and tea, and we chatted or a bit. Also, had a wonderful conversation with Dina when she and Raul arrived about where I should go the billeteturistico, local fruits, and about books. Before I left my godmother made me a beautiful journal that I showed to Dina. I need to see if I can send her more information on bookmaking and also find a recipe for strawberry rhubarb pie. They grow rhubarb in the front yard, and Dina usually only uses it for jam.

So, a busy day full of departures and reunions, new friends, beautiful places, and so much learning. A dormir.

¡Que dia! It’s already feeling weird to write an English.

I arrived in Lima around midnight Thursday. The airport has an interesting layout you arrive on one side and go through customs, then after wading through a barrage of people waiting for relatives and entrepreneurs offering to take you places or find you a hotel you cross into another section solo paraviajeros (only for travelers) where airlines have all their desks. Upstairs there are lots of shops, a big alcove where travelers often sleep, and entrances to all the gates.

When I came in, I wondered around a bit trying to look like I was moving purposefully and asked around about where I could find Taca, the airline that would take me to Cusco early in the morning. After a little misdirection and exploration of the airport the mystery was solved! Taca closes for a few hours at night but reopens at 1:30 am. So after loitering at the second floor Starbucks for a bit , I checked in with Taca checked my bags, and headed bacl upstairs the rest of the slumbering travelrrs. After about two hours, I got up and headed for the security checkpoint and the gate. The wait was pretty uneventful , except that a couple there asked me if I was from Buenos Aires. They thought I was from Argentina! Which was great considering how conspicuous I feel most of the time here as a tall whit enorteamericana with accented Spanish. Then Cusco!! I went to sleep almost immediately, but when I woke up, I saw the Andes. Talk about a way to rise. I have never seen mountains like these. Many of them rose above the cloud layer and wer capped with snow, this made them look more like volcanic archipelago in an ocean of clouds than mountains.
When I exited the airport I was met with a man with a sign that said my name, my host dad! Raul. He has been wonderful. I felt immediately safe around him, a feeling that has persisted. We went home and met his wife, Dina, and a girl who works for them more on my family later … a lot to say.

the first one:

Yowza. It is time to go. I’m sitting here at concourse 3A in the Charlotte airport, and
I just discovered Internet. I wasn’t expecting to get internet the first spot I tried nor expecting to write my first post from an airport terminal, but I think these surprises are good lessons for the rest of this trip: predictions are often inaccurate.

Also, expect little and sometimes you get surprised!

To access it, I had to watch this aol promo ad toting (maybe begging for) the continued relevance of aol. It had this inspirational background music over all of these t.v. snippets. Now the screen is covered in pictures of all of these iconic figures including Santa, Kristen Chenoweth, storm troopers, the workout guy with the fro and short shorts (name?), and Paula Deen. Super bizarre and super American. Half of me thinks it’s ridiculous, but I’m pretty sure I secretly love it.

So here I am soaking up the free aol sponsored internet at 3A.

The people on either side of me are on their cell phones: The man to the left sounds like the adults on Charlie Brown (waa waa waa waaa), and I’m not sure what language he is speaking, maybe Portuguese with a sinus infection. He keeps gesturing with an upside down plastic fork; maybe he is emphasizing what he’s saying. Maybe? Phone lady on the right is now quiet and investigating something on the phone from her leopard print bag. My other neighbors include a middle-aged man with headphones tapping his foot (I wonder what he’s listening to?), a mac user with an enormous ring, a smooth twenty something kid with unlaced leather boots and ball cap, a glowing couple sharing lunch, and a school group with matching sweaters. What people watching.

My parents and I drove from Winston to Charlotte this morning, and they were mostly very good. My dad bought bagels from the best bagel place in the world (or at least the city) and shined my shoes, and my mom gave me lots of travel tips. Many thanks to both of them. I’m really grateful that they have encourage my brother and me to global citizens and seekers of interesting experiences, even when it means their children move to Peru and Ethiopia. (Also, thanks Matt.)

Also a big thank you to Davidson: to the institution for making pre and post semester travel possible, to faculty and staff who have been supportive, and to my wonderful friends who are such a beautiful blessings to know.

So that is the sappiest part. Time is running short, and I want to record my schedule. So: I leave for Atlanta shortly then fly to Lima and arrive around midnight. After an exciting night at the airport I go to Cuzco and arrive at 7:05 am! There, my host family, Sra. Dina, will pick me up! Until next Thursday, I will be there exploring the city, getting to know my family, and learning Quechua (the indigenous language of Peru). Hopefully, I will soon rendezvous with Laura, a friend who is also on the Davidson program and is in Cuzco, Next Thursday we will start the 20+hour bus ride to return to Lima and meet the rest of the group.

Got to run! I board in ten. Please excuse the probably typos…will proofread later. Thanks for reading!

Much love,

Cate