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.
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