The Right Thing

Poor little Flor.  She is our neighbor, ten years old, and her house collapsed a few weeks ago due to the torrential rains that fell this year.   She's a third grader and she hasn't missed a day of school since the incident that could have easily taken her life and those of her entire family.  Luckily no one was in the house when it fell.  She and her family have squeezed into a neighbor's spare bedroom in the interim.

Flor goes to school every day, and then as soon as she gets home she changes into a traditional outfit from her father's hometown of Lares.  She grabs her pet alpaca, Oso, and pulling him by his lead races down to the central plaza to ask any tourist she sees to take a photo of her for a Sol (30 cents).  She's a sweet girl with a bright smile and a robust work ethic. She has been over to play with Sophia and Isabel a few times and has shared dinner with us and gotten help from us on her homework.

Right after the accident we bought the family some pots and pans since theirs were buried under many feet of mud and debris.  We gave Flor and her little sister clothing that we didn't need and bought some extra food to drop off at their door whenever we went to the grocery store.  Today, I made good on my promise to Flor to buy her some new pants.  Only one pair survived the collapse of her house.  I went down to El Molino to pick some out, and found a nice collection of jeans at one of the stalls.  The owner of the stall quoted the price at 45 soles a pair.  I explained why I was buying them and without batting an eye she chopped her price in half.  She told me I would be blessed by God and kissed me on my cheek.  The vast majority of Peruvians have been affected in some way by the disastrous rains that fell this year, so I presume they have a heightened sense of empathy and generosity for their countrymen.

As the sky continues to brighten each day,  the muddy sidewalks are transforming into dusty ones.  The stomachache of worry that came with each soaking rain is now a memory and the scorching sun makes us squint our eyes and walk on the shady side of the street.  Things here in Cusco are looking up lately, and everyone is breathing a sigh of relief.

Back to Reality (by Lawrs)

Fresh Papaya -- it's in season.

Well, well, well.  It's Sunday night and we are steeling ourselves for another big week which will begin in --let me check my watch -- 11 hours.  Sophia, Krista and Isabel are in a cab on their way to school every weekday morning by 7:30, and I am out the door by 7:00.  Our days, all of a sudden, are regimented and full.  It sounds like a rough transition from the months of free-form living (for all but Krista, who has been working hard since we lighted upon this continent...), but to be honest we are all enjoying some form of a schedule.  And since our life in Peru has begun to resemble our life in Maine, we have finally submitted to our primal urges and allowed ourselves some trite, yet important creature comforts.

I came home one evening to find, ta da!  A microwave oven.



The next day I found, ta da!  A toaster.  Our housekeeper/babysitter Rosalia who was raised in a remote Andean village called Paru Paru had never seen one.  "What," she asked, "is this for?" 

Small items, but they make a big difference.  We also put the thumbscrews to our landlords and withheld rent in order to have the unfinished repairs completed.  We now have wood flooring throughout our bedroom and all the leaks have been located and fixed.  The result is a nice looking room with an odor no longer reminiscent of a Parisian urinal.  

Our handyman, Francisco, ferrying batches of molten tar up to the third floor  in an improvised pot made of a tin can and pair of vice grips.  The tar, whose odor still linger days later, is used to glue down the hardwood floor.

The interior door that separates our house from the landlord's was also falling off its hinges thanks to the months of rain.  It's made of iron and glass and by the time it was hanging from just one hinge we were starting to worry about it falling on one of our children.   We mentioned something to our Cusquenan friends Hugo and Heather over glasses of wine Friday night, and the next morning he came knocking on the door with a welder.  It's nice to have friends who are locals.  It probably would have taken us seven months to find someone to do it. 

I went down to El Molino today after staring at backpacks on the sierratradingpost website for a while.  I came down to Peru with an old and slightly broken  pack that I intended to leave for a local friend when we  departed.  Well, I began to think, why don't I just go down to Molino and see how much it will cost to fix this one.  The answer: $2.50 for everything.  This pack that I bought in 1990 for around $70 has been revived for a pittance.  

I think I will say goodnight before I fall asleep on the keyboard.  As a parting gift I offer you two photos taken on my way to the supermarket one evening.  

 

Fun at the Butcher's Shop.

 

Cusco Nocturne

Whirlwind

Standing in the warm, turquoise water of the Pacific Ocean next to my dad, we both faced out to the west, scanning the horizon for the next big set of waves to show itself.  Growing up in Rockaway, New York, my dad spent a lot of time on the beach, and in an era before jet skis or even surfboards, he became somewhat of a self-taught body surfing master.  He doesn't do anything fancy, but he can catch any wave he lays his eyes on and ride it all the way to the beach on one breath.  On a number of occasions we both took off on the same wave only to find ourselves washing up on the sandy shore clasping each others' hand.  Cosmic.  The two of us, linked by forces deeper and stronger than we can imagine, riding a wave through that vast ocean, only to end up hand-in-hand at the end of the journey.  

Ernie and Rhonda arrived in Cusco on February 18th and were just as excited to see us as we were to see them.  They arrived laden with all manner of American goodies:  Ghirardelli Chocolate Chips, Keens, Magazines in English, Gummy vitamins, ballet supplies, and cameras for Krista's research.  Once all the gifts had been delivered it was time to see the sites and with Machu Picchu remaining closed, they got a more detailed taste of Cusco than they otherwise would have.

We hired our friend Juan Pedro as a guide and his extensive knowledge of the ruins coupled with his excellent English made each outing terrific.  He is such a sweet, gentle guy -- the moment Sophia began to whine about being bored or tired he would rush to hold her hand, changing the subject to something fun or interesting.  Juan led us through an infamous tunnel that travels 100 meters as it passes underneath the ruins.  We all held hands and traveled "nose-to-butt" as we used to say in Outward Bound courses, until after a very long 60 seconds, we could see light from ahead.  He also took us to Chinchero, a settlement on the rim of the Sacred Valley and then on to Ollantaytambo.  

Sophia demonstrating the scale of both the gargantuan stones of Saqsaywaman and the antechamber of the weensy tunnel we scuttled through.

 

The sacrificial cave at Qh'enko

The day in the sacred valley was wonderful with a few unexpected surprises.  In Chinchero we happened upon another fiesta with the "Tree Full of Gifts."  There were teenagers fifty feet off the deck reaching out precariously to hang brightly colored plastic colanders and pitchers from the branches of the eucalyptus tree, recently interred just for the revelers to chop it down that night.

Terraces at Chinchero

In Ollanta Sophia was able to have a play-date with  her friend Nina who lives in town.  Juan took Ernie and Rhonda to a Chicharia for a taste of the local home brew, and then we went to tour the ruins.  We happened upon a bullfight (!) that was taking place in a ring five hundred feet below the ruins.  We hustled Isabel away before any blood was spilled and continued our tour.  The stonework is so fine, so detailed, that some people think it is the work of extraterrestrials.  My dad half jokingly quipped that the aliens were probably the ones who sent the Spaniards to put the Inca in their place.  The Inca were getting too talented for the space people's comfort level, so they hired mercenaries to rough them up and remind them that they were human after all.

We could see ominously dark clouds as we began to approach the long climb to Cusco out of the valley.  Krista, still in Cusco to finish up some work, called to make sure we were OK because there had been a violent hail storm in the city.  As luck would have it we missed the storm, but were nearly crippled by the ensuing fog.  The driver could not count night-vision as one of his strengths, and nearly drove off the road twice before Juan spoke up and screamed "right" or "left"to guide the driver as he attempted to navigate the mist ensconced roadway by brail.

We wrapped up our Cusco week with some great meals and frenzied souvenir shopping before jumping on a plane to Lima, and then another to Piura, eventually arriving at the beach of Punta Sal after a three hour van ride.

The Peruvian Pacific is quite delicious as it turns out.  The water was just below 80˚ and the air vacillated  between 80˚ and 95˚.  Our bungalow was a stone's throw from the surf and was the beneficiary of shade produced by coconut palms lining it's front yard.   


Krista persuaded a grounds worker to take a break from his duties to cut up some coconuts for the girls.  He wielded his machete with the greatest of ease and served up two coconuts complete with straws for some relaxed, tropical sipping.


The beach was ideal for digging once the sand temperature dipped below nuclear...


Without question though, the pool was the favorite locale for Sophia and Isabel.  It was huge, shallow, and warm.  Sophia finally learned to dunk her head thanks to a pair of goggles and the excellent coaching of her Rockaway Beach grandfather.

We spent one evening enjoying the sunset on the beach from our perch atop horses.  It was a perfect night for an equestrian stroll with the sea breeze blowing on our faces and the glowing orb of the sun 

 sinking below the horizon.  Horses are so, well, cool.  Handsome, powerful animals whose lanky gait softens even the roughest terrain.  They are the original all terrain vehicle. 

 

We did some great ghost crab chasing and  were able to get close enough to one bold fellow to get this portrait.

I also found this moth which had me convinced it was dead.  Larger than many birds I have seen, it was amazing to feel its heft as I held it in my hand for the photo op.  To my surprise as soon as I chucked it into the woods to decompose in peace it sprang to life and buzzed by my head on its way to a perch on top of a beach umbrella.

 

The sunsets, night after night were stunning.  

 

We got to spend a day in Lima before heading back to Cusco.  Lima is a busy, bustling hub of activity.  One of our favorite sights was at land's end where the city streets give way to a thousand foot cliff dropping nearly vertically to the crashing waves below.  While surfers catch wave after perfect wave, tandem paragliders take brave tourists for rides along the perpetual updraft produced by the precipice.

 Krista won the award for most photogenic dessert and we got some quality time with Sumaq, the decidedly unphotogenic Perro Peruano.

It feels good to be back in Cusco, but for the love of Pete, it is still raining!  But more on that later.  For now do like me and bask in the afterglow of some wonderful family travels, and a recharging of the batteries during a week on the beach.