Greenery and Rodent Meals (by Lawrs)

The weather has calmed a bit here in Cusco, but that hasn't stopped us from witnessing some stunning meteorological phenomena.  One night while I was headed to the supermarket during Isabel's ballet class, the sun dipped below the ceiling of cumulus clouds and bathed the entire city in this ethereal glow.

 

 

The sun and clouds weren't the only source of interesting light.  I walked through a pedestrian neighborhood (of which there are many in Cusco) on the way to the supermarket and happened upon some cool views.  The diffused light of the yellow flowers softened the harsh exterior of the concrete apartment buildings along the walk.  And then there was the neon word-art of the bingo parlor.  Who doesn't love a bingo parlor?

In addition to beautiful light shows, the moist weather has upped the green-factor considerably.  We went to visit friends in Ollantaytambo over the weekend, and the fields on the plateau between Cusco and the Sacred Valley were positively pumping with chlorophyll.  Amidst all the despair and destruction resulting from the floods, it was comforting to see a place with robust crops as far as the eye could see.    

Ollantaytambo was one of the last strongholds of the Inca after the arrival of the Spanish, and it remains a relatively intact Inca city today.  The streets  are laid out in a grid pattern across the flood plain of the valley floor and there are still functioning irrigation channels built into the sidewalks.  

The tranquility of the town's center is offset by the towering peaks vaulting up to the heavens on all sides.  Venturing out of town in all but one direction involves drastic changes in elevation.  On our first day I headed up a valley toward a ridge line that was visible from town.  Ridges are convenient routes through mountainous terrain and I was certain I would find a trail along the spine of this one.  Indeed, there was a clear trail that went straight up the ridge and I climbed it until the sun was nearly down at 6:00.  The view down the valley toward town and the ruins was dramatic.

On day two, Isabel and I headed up for a short hike on the side of the valley opposite the ruins.  On this steep face the Inca built narrow grain storage houses, perched over the streets of the city, at the base of a set of improbably steep agricultural terraces.  The "trail" was kind of scary, really.  I spotted Isabel at the tough spots and encouraged us both to breathe deeply and step carefully.

In spots like this one, tripping was not an option.  We stopped just above here for some water and while Isabel rested I climbed up a bit higher along a thin trail to investigate.  At the base of a 100 foot cliff I discovered a cave with two braids of human hair lying at the entrance.  Creepy...  Intriguing...  I clambered into the cave and found that it snaked 100 feet or so into the heart of the stone.  There were coals still smoldering from a recent fire near its end.  What happened here?  Witchcraft?  Shamanic healing?  Hair styling?    

 

Once back down in town for lunch we discovered a line of what looked like a hundred parked trucks blocking entry to the city.  While none of the Inca bridges washed out in the recent floods, the Spanish-built bridge across the middle of town did meet its demise.  As satisfying as this circumstance was for the primarily indigenous population, it did nonetheless hamper travel plans.  The military plopped a pre-fab metal bridge in its place, but it only lasted a week.  I watched for a few minutes as attempts were made to fortify the ailing, temporary bridge.

 

Meanwhile, back in our neighborhood it was party central last week.  The festival of San Blas (namesake of our barrio and its cathedral) was raucous by any standards, and was a pretty fun spectacle to witness.  The normally empty streets were filled with stalls selling beer, roasted cuy, pork rinds, and soup.  A tree was placed (not really planted) in front of the church and on the last day of the fiesta revelers danced around it with an axe, taking one swing at a time in the hopes of felling it.  The tree was laden with gifts and trinkets and whoever swung the final blow would get the prizes, but they would also have to buy all the supplies for next year's tree.  A bitter-sweet victory.

The city is very quiet these days with Machu Picchu still closed.  We sometimes feel like the last gringos standing.  But selfishly perhaps, I am not minding the tranquility at all.

What's Left (by Lawrs)

We had heard a lot about the damage caused by last week's flooding, but it seemed all we could do to help was bring bags of non-perishable food down to the collection site in the central plaza.  I asked a few agencies about going out to the villages to help on the ground, but nobody was interested.

Our friend Amy Tai, a Boston ex-pat who has lived here for ten years, had the idea to do some grassroots flood relief.  She would use the van belonging to her water deliveryman to carry supplies herself to those most in need.  I asked if we could join her last Monday and it was a date.  Amy had heard that what people needed the most were blankets and water, so we loaded 40 20-liter bottles and 85 blankets into the back of her friend's cargo van and headed downstream from Cusco.  

The Sacred Valley is definitely on the hit list of any foreign traveler visiting the Cusco region, but the area we were headed too is further upstream and is not in the guidebooks or in the consciousness 

of most travelers.  The towns of Lucre and Huacarpay don't have fancy vacation homes owned by Lima socialites or hotels offering facials and reflexology.  These are agricultural communities where people live off the land and depend more on each other for their livelihood than on visits from tourists.  Amy figured that if anyone was going to be forgotten in this disaster it was likely going to be the residents of this area.

Our first stop was at a large tent camp and there was a crowd waiting for us as we pulled in.  Some people clamored for more water, more blankets, but Amy calmly explained that we were non an agency, but individuals who bought these things with our own money to give to them.  After this first stop, we all became a bit more discriminating in our decision as  to who would get what.  Amy and our driver had some heart to heart talks as we drove by tent villages trying to assess the needs of the people.  If they looked like they were doing OK, we moved on.

It was eye opening and really moving for all of us to see what these folks had lost, and how well they were coping with the situation.  They were tremendously gracious and even took the time to ask about us.  Where were we from?  How did we like Peru?  Pleasantries from people whose lives had just been washed down the river.

I  am really grateful to Amy for organizing this effort.  It was an amazing experience for us and I know we helped some people who really needed it.