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.

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.