Peruvian Ponderings

NEW BLOG

2008-10-30T12:59:00.000-07:00

Eeks...I feel like a cheater...

Dear blogspot: I am sorry blogger, you have been really great to me all these months, but I feel like I need to grow and you just cant give me the space I need anymore....

hahahah, I have switched over to wordpress because it lets me make more than one page on my blog and this is exciting. So now my words of the day, my random peru thoughts and my posts have enough space to play...and am still working out the details of this new system and trying to figure out a cool way to present my photos...but all the posts you see here are also present there. Hooray to change and growth and new beginnings!

PLEASE FOLLOW ME HERE: www.jaimeinperu.wordpress.com

Thanks!

Representin'

2008-10-30T07:05:00.000-07:00

Rachel came across this BBC clip this morning of Peruvian shamen performing a ceremony to encourage the success of their desired US Presidential candidate. Its interesting...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/us_elections_2008/7699066.stm

A good weekend...

2008-10-27T13:47:00.001-07:00

At the risk of producing a post that borders on the diary genre, I thought I’d provide a quick recap of my last couple of days, since my weekend was so enjoyable and since it’s been a while since I provided a peak into my current daily life.
This weekend began with a trip to my favorite restaurant in San Isidro with some of my very favorite people in Lima, Clara, Jaime (Hi-may), Mariane, and Henry. At this little soiree, where we enjoyed delicious food and drink, I was finally properly introduced to the French owner, Philippe, who coincidentally happens to be a friend of Jaime’s (coincidence abounds with my friend Jaime…unless we are talking aceitunas or beaches, about which we have opposite opinions). Aided by a pisco and copa de vino tinto, I proudly told Philippe in Spanish that his restaurant is my favorite in all of Lima and promised to be more explicit in my mention of his restaurant on my blog. So here it is:

Owned by frenchie Philippe and his gorgeous Peruvian wife, Chez Philippe is a fine Limeño restaurant proudly offering a wide array of European beers, wines from South America and Europe, crepes, salads, carne, fish, pizzas, flammenkutche, and more to satisfy and stimulate the palate. This cozy restaurant, which is equally affordable and adorable, is located at Avenida 2 de Mayo 748, in San Isidro, Lima, Peru. Their web address is: www.chez-philippe.net. If you come here, go there. And so ends my pitch. (Maybe it will earn me a free pisco???)

Back to my weekend… After this wonderful evening, I woke Saturday and taught another kettlebell session. This was my first class facing four athletic men, some exceptionally and anomalously tall, each of which looked at me with curiosity as if thinking, “What is this strange little white chick going to offer me by way of fitness?” I did my damndest to kick their butts (whilst invariably kicking my own :). There is something satisfying and empowering about awing, engrossing, and inspiring people through kettlebells. Jaime, who owns the gym, always tells me how proud he is of me when I teach and how excited my students get about my classes. This makes me proud and delighted indeed. I know I will look back fondly on my bizarre happenstance of teaching here. Perhaps it will even open up some opportunities in the future and I will pursue the (expensive) certification necessary to teach in the US.

After resting up a bit from this big morning of work, my new friend Carlyn arrived into town. Carlyn is headed on a month’s adventure in Cusco, where she’s going to live with a family and study Spanish. Becoming acquainted through a friend in San Diego (thanks Heather!), Carlyn and I got on well from the start (she rocks!). We took a great stroll on a sunny afternoon by the cliffs and, after what turned out to be quite a long walk (anyone who knows me should not be surprised in the least that the first thing I did with my new friend was take her on a long walk, haha), we settled into another of my very favorite restaurants in Lima (I promise I do more than eat here!).

Alfrescos is one of the tastiest spots to grab some fancy seafood, which, for the quality and presentation, can be enjoyed at about a third of the cost of any similar restaurant in the US. Anyhow, I mention this not only because it is another tasty recommendation for the comida- inclined visitors and residents of Peru, but also because I finally tried CEVICHE! Yes, it took me four whole months to gutz up enough to try this raw seafood delicacy. It was deliciously spicy and didn’t make me hurl! Hooray! Great success! I think I will be having it again soon. Now I understand what all these Limeños are on about! I am so thankful that I live in the purported culinary capital of South America.

All food fascinations aside, I also spent much of the weekend walking (said food off ;). At about noon on Sunday, after chatting with my parents and Luke (who arrives in one week, I am so excited!), the sun burned away the grey and bathed everything in warm spring air. I had to get myself outside. I took a wander over to Barranco, the nearby coastal neighborhood known for its Bohemian eccentricities and its night clubs. I had such a joyous day just exploring. The sun made the ocean glow, the parks were green and teeming with blossoming flowers of every color, it was relatively quiet along the Malecon, and it was just a beautiful day to be alive. I could feel my heart expanding beyond the sometimes constricted state in which I find myself when I get overwhelmed by the daily travails of big city life. It made me smile.

I am grateful for these nourishing moments.

Pumpkin Carving in Peru

2008-10-21T15:38:00.000-07:00

In honor of a cultural holiday enjoyed by both Peruvians and estados unidensians (thats US folks in a strange jaime version of spanish), Rachel, Evan, Clara and I carved pumpkins last weekend. It was a joyous event indeed. Here are some photos.

hahahahahahah...

Belated Birthday Pic

2008-10-20T13:40:00.000-07:00

I figured I should post at least one...
This is my new pal Toño, who was passing through town to visit Rachel during a blitz of South America, yours truly, and Rachel after a tower of beer and a strong pisco but before the dancing commenced....

Truncated Time In Lima

2008-10-20T08:01:00.000-07:00

After many ruminations on life and my experience here in Lima, I have decided to truncate my time here and not return to Lima following the December holidays. After having made this decision and set my plans in motion, I feel I have made a wise decision for myself and am very much looking forward to the coming months. I have about a month left at my bizarrely questionable job, but in this time I am taking two trips within Peru: another trip back to Machu Picchu (but this time via a proper trek through the Sacred Valley) and a 3-day hiking trip in the Andes.

In December, I am heading on a 3-week trip through Buenos Aires (Argentina), Iguazzu Falls (at 9,000 feet wide, this is one of the top ten biggest falls in the world), a number of little cities in Uruguay (who would have thought this trip would take me to Bolivia and Uruguay?), and into Brazil to a couple of incredible beaches including those in Rio. I will finally see the sun! Unbelievably excited I am.
And equally excited I am to reunite with all my friends and family upon my return. This Christmas is going to be the best yet.

As for the future…well it is unclear. If it were up to me, I would travel for another 6 months. I pine for travel more than I do any person, possession, or purpose in life right now. It’s all I want to do in the coming months (much to the dismay and displeasure of my parents, who wish for me to grow roots immediately). And though I fear sounding like a spoiled brat with all these jaunts about, I assure any suspicious reader that I am working my little butt off here just trying to make this happen.

I am hoping to land enough freelance gigs to make continued travel a reality. My fingers are crossed and my ears are open. I recognize how blessed I am to be able to pursue my passions like this. I don't think I'll ever be the kind of person that, upon looking back at life, will ever say “I wish I would have…” or “If only...” Life is far too short to put off what you love (or who you love, for that matter) for some far off day. I am grateful and blessed. That’s about all I can say about that.

Sweet

2008-10-16T15:55:00.001-07:00

I just booked a ticket to PARADISE. More to follow....

A banal little update

2008-10-15T15:35:00.000-07:00

I haven't written lately because there is not much to report on from this little spot on the globe. But I am tired of the Palin rant living at the top of my blog so I had to write something. haha
Plans are in the works (which are subject to change hourly it seems) and travel will recommence in November with a proper trek to Machu Picchu, a hiking trip in Huaraz (over the crazy world summit weekend in Lima), and then...something bigger. Update to follow.
My Spanish lessons are going great. My teacher warms my heart with his kindness and funny stories. He makes me feel confident and excited about learning Spanish. Hooray for good teachers!
I have been working like a mad little lady recently, 3 jobs 7 days a week. But it is worth it for the travels to come. I am thankful I have 3 jobs when some people have 0 and am grateful that I away from the sad state of the US economy and accompanying national panic, though it is strange to be disconnected and I worry for my family and friends. (that was a long sentence, forgive me I am sleepy and a bit sick right now). I hope that everyone is doing okay despite this domestic turmoil. A woman in the elevator the other day asked where I was from and when I told her, she replied with a look of pity-shock and said "Oh muchas problemas, lo siento" Yowswers.
Well that is all for now. I will try to go on some crazy adventure soon and report back with something more exciting.

An American Moment: VP Debate

2008-10-03T10:26:00.000-07:00

2 October 2008

VP Viewing in a Peruvian Bar
Tonight, after 9 hours of work (during which I wrestled with how to account for 25 centuries of Roman history in a few easy-to-read web pages about art) and nearly two hours of Spanish lessons, I hustled over to a local bar where my friends and I discovered the US Vice Presidential Debates were airing. This being the first and only time Palin and Biden would meet face to face to debate on matters of the utmost importance to the future of United States politics (and, really, so much more), I knew that it was an important night to witness.

Entering the local sports bar, I found the place packed to capacity. Every TV was ready to air the debate. As most bars are, this place was crowded and noisy. But, phenomenally, the entire place hushed as the debate began. I can’t remember ever being in a bar so hushed by something on TV. Not even the Superbowl. People gathered here with the sole purpose of listening to this debate. It is something powerful and telling to witness this here. I take this as evidence of just how important people feel this particular election is to the fate of our nation.

So the debate began.

Not a single person that I saw in that bar seemed to be in favor of Palin. In fact, people were there from the Obama camp, signing ex-pats up on mailing lists and getting them emergency ballots and voting information. The entire crowd of people was virtually silent throughout the entire event, save for bursts of applause in response to Biden's poignant remarks. In response to Palin's meaningless jumble, I saw looks of horror spread across the faces of some people, while others were busy taking shots everytime Palin said something stupid. They had trouble even stumbling out of the bar by the end of the debate.

I can't help but think this experience in Peru is evidence of something really important happening in the US. This bar was filled with backpackers and expats, people who might have easily forgone this debate for a travel adventure or perhaps not found it worth the trouble to seek out a place where the debates would be aired live. It would be easy to forget, being so far from home, what was going on in US politics. But all of these people made a point to remember and made a point to watch it. Not only that but they truly watched and listened intently to the debate. In a bar, where people's attention spans usually dont last as long as their cocktails. People were truly engaged. From a nation so historically apathetic when it comes to politics, this unlikely meeting of passionate Americans indicates to me that we are in the midst of serious change in our country.

One can only hope that this change is for the good, and the torch is not passed to another team that will only continue to burn the fine institution of America to the ground.

Kettlebells Continues

2008-09-29T07:59:00.002-07:00

I continue to teach kettlebells here in Peru. My friend Jaime just opened his official gym here, called CrossFit Peru. I admire his enthusiasm, drive, and determination in following his passion of getting this gym started and spreading functional fitness to Peru. I am proud to be able to be a part of it! Here is a link to his write up about my work at the gym. Oh, and "Yeimi" is the phonetic spelling of my name according to Peruvians!

http://crossfitperu.com/2008/09/28/yeimi-dio-una-clase-de-kettlebells-en-crossfit-peru/

Mold Mayhem and Malaria Meds

2008-09-29T07:59:00.001-07:00

PREFACE: I wrote this a few weeks ago and it was meant to be a personal venting I didnt plan to share here. But I think I would be doing a disservice to myself and my readers to only sugar coat my experiences here and pretend that everything is always perfect. As expected, this trip has presented its challenges, which are often manageable but at times gets a bit overwhelming. What follows flowed forth during an overwhelming moment. So it goes. This place will make me stronger.

9/20/08

Aptly, one line from an Eminem song keeps swimming through my head this afternoon: “and when your run is over just admit when its at its end.” On more challenging days like this, I can’t help but think that maybe my strange affair with Lima is reaching its end.

This place is bad for my health. My lungs burn from the pounds of pollution hurled at me over the past few months. They ache with attempted rejection of the mold that has opportunistically claimed my bedroom. My legs are restless from sitting in one place for 10 hours a day. I can’t help but worry that this place is adding years to my looks while taking a few off my life.

My stuff is ruined. The fungus triumphs. The brown strap of my nicest dress looks mottled from mold. My cute black ballet shoes are green with fungus. My handmade bag, adorned with patches from all the places I’ve been in Europe, was barely recognizable when I pulled it reluctantly from the closet today. All the furniture in my room is covered in mold, including my bed, where I’ve had fits of night sweats and spent restless hours trying to sleep in damp danky darkness. Last week I had to throw out a moldy pillow I slept on for weeks before realizing its condition. My ceiling is covered in some sordid spawning species. I can’t live like this.

This is made worse by the side effects of my malaria medicine, which I have been on now for almost a month. It has done a number on my stomach and my lips, strangely enough. Yikes!

This city is dirty, damp, dangerous and donkey grey. I feel assaulted each day as I wade through black clouds of smoke and try to ignore the multitude of blaring horns. I can taste poison on my lips as I make my way home each night cursing these streets. On some days, my friends wouldn’t recognize me if they saw me walking down the streets because they’ve likely never seen this look of disgust-stress-sadness and tension on my face.

Furthermore, I am also learning that I am just not a city girl (or at least not this city). I am so so much more at peace in a smaller town. Or in a forest. Or really any place where I can connect with nature and have a moment of peace. Here, I feel like a rat in a cage, one of way too many clawing towards the top to get a gasp of air. It stresses me out to be here. It de-centers me. It makes a negative person out of someone who is not negative by nature. It wears me out.

But all of this is tempered (and complicated) by the good that I am experiencing. I am slowly but surely learning a new language, one that may open many doors for me in the future. I am meeting awesome people at every turn. I am witnessing life and everything is fresh (except the air, haha). I am by no means stagnant in my outlook on life. I am learning more about myself each day. I am pursuing my bliss to the best of my ability. I am taking chances and wander out of my comfort zone at every chance I get. My times of travel—the whole reason for this crazy adventure—are amazing and rejuvenating. They are the reason I came here and the reason I am still here.

But the times in between are trying, as I am just not built for this kind of city life. So I am torn between upholding a commitment and high tailing it out of here to pursue that which I know is better for me.

Whilst in the rainforest area of Puerto Maldonado this last week, I felt extremely creative and generative, new ideas springing up daily. I want to write. I am feeling more dedicated to it than ever. I want to write this book about my travels. I want to spend a year in Spanish-speaking countries (I have expanded my travel dreams to include a few months in Argentina and a few in Spain) and write a book called Spanish Lessons.

I want to write a children’s book about the animals of the rainforest. A zoological/conservation tale in which the poor animals I saw kept in horrid conditions in Puerto Maldonado are set free by their own ingenuity. Because I can’t set them free in real life and the only way I can justify going to see what I saw is to write about it.

Furthermore, I want to actually put some effort into becoming a published travel writer. I think I might actually have it in me. I think I might actually have something to say that others might actually want to read.

I also know that I want to go back to teaching when all of these adventures are over. I love the college learning environment and I love teaching in it. I have been thinking of my students and miss the work I used to do. I think it is the only job I’ve ever had that I have actually felt passionate about. I miss it. I love the lifestyle, I love the way it makes me feel, I love how it stimulates my creativity and passion, and I love having the ability to interact with students on an intellectual level and to get them engaged in their education. Being back in an 8 to 6 reminds me of why I left it to pursue my masters and reaffirms the reasons I wanted to be a professor.

And other ideas have been coming forth. I keep mulling over the prospect of getting some sort of travel excursion company together in California. Right now it is so expensive to travel there as a young person and virtually impossible to backpack it. I keep thinking it would be neat to set up a company that enables backpackers to travel around affordably. To share with other people the amazing places in my own home.

And I want to live in a place where blue-skied days outnumber the grey, where I can call up and walk over to see my dear friends, where I can live in a mold-free home and walk down the street without swallowing smog, where I can be mellow and healthy. And travel. As far as living in a big dirty city and sitting in front of a computer for at least 10 hours a day...well this is not so much for me. However, I greatly appreciate the opportunities this job has enabled me to have. I have been able to travel here and experience Peru in a way I never would have been able to otherwise. I am so grateful for these gifts, about which I will carry fond memories for the rest of my life. I am immensely thankful for all of these things.

Impressions of a Peruvian Rainforest

2008-09-29T07:58:00.001-07:00

The dark side of an illuminating locale....

While I was fortunate to be immersed in the sights and sounds of one of the most beautiful natural habitats on the planet, I couldn't help but note many many tragedies afoot. The local people here cannot eat from the river, on which blobs of bright orange pollution float, because of the unsafe mercury levels. Mercury is pumped into the Madre Del Dios by the opportunistic gold miners laboring along the river side.
The marvels of our first morning wander down the river were tempered by the thick smoke of a burning rainforest and the sound of chainsaws sealing the deal. While I fight to bite my tongue in responding to something I can't possibly understand fully, my visceral reaction was (and is) unstoppable. The deforestation here is jaw-dropping. The pollution is horrid. The way they treat their animals angers me, as I understand through past studies just how close so many of these species are to extinction.
Our guide told us stories of how they hunt the primates here (not to mention numerous other species). He continued with morbid details of how they must retrieve their kill. Because most primates here have prehensile tails, they cling to branches even after death. To collect them, hunters often take to cutting down the trees on which they cling. This is horrid tale is one of the saddest I've heard in a while.

Forgive my drama, I feel quite strongly about these things. A visit to the local zoo at the very end of our trip would have had me in tears if I hadn't been in total shock. Most of the animals seen in this entry live meters from their natural habitat in meager cages abutting a noisy cement block building operation. I wanted to free them. Since I can't, I have promised myself to write a book about them.

I hesitated on this trip (and still do) to jump to any conclusions about the implications of human activity on this natural, and rapidly dwindling, habitat. All I can say is the human footprint is stomping out much of what seems so vital to the preservation and continued existence of this rainforest. Seeing the difference between this place and the forests I saw in Costa Rica, this novice can see clearly the world of difference effective conservation makes. I hope (and feel compelled to help) Peru reverse this fast track to total annihilation of one of the most important resources on our planet.

Okay my rant is through.

Yes, that is a rope tightly tied to his hind legs.

Wild cotton grows all over this area. I cant help but wonder if cultivating wild cotton might be part of an effective conservation solution, providing an alternative means of income to locals who might otherwise pursue activities deleterious to the land.

-------------------------------------
Near the entrance of the Tambopata reserve, a German-based NGO has set up a little display about conservation of the rainforest. It is quite lovely and informative. I found one display board particularly beautiful. The following "letter," posted in both Spanish and English, is intended to remind visitors how nature should be appreciated.

From the post:

Dear Friend,

Pardon my confidence in speaking to you as a friend, but from the moment that you were born, you became part of my Being and I consider you as such.

Maybe you have never heard me speaking to you. The truth is, I have spent a lot of time speaking to people about how little they take care of me, that sometimes I think I do not have a voice, or only some have heard me.

Today, my heart is happy for your visit. Not only do I want you to see my, but I also want to share my secrets and reveal all the beauty and goodness that I have in myself. I understand that sometimes you can be enchanted with something that I have, but even so, I ask you not to take it. If you do that, it is as if you are killing me bit by bit and the truth is, this makes me suffer more than you can imagine.

Like you, the animals, the plants, the space, and even the air you breathe form a part of me. I offer you this with all my humility, so that they also form a part of your life experience. Respect them, as you respect yourself. Enjoy them, as one enjoys being alive. Embrace them, as one embraces loved ones. Love them, as one loves oneself.

I only want to thank you for forming part of my life and hopefully, at the end of your visit, you will be satisfied for having discovered a little more of the beauty that life offers us everyday.

With affection and offering you all of myself,

MOTHER NATURE

Departure Day from Puerto Maldonado

2008-09-29T07:57:00.002-07:00

This was one of many peaceful sights I came upon on an early morning solo hike near our lodge. While the forest is filled with the busy early morning sounds of insects and animals millions strong, it is the most quiet place you can dream of. Quiet, in the sense of fostering complete peace and tranquility in the listener. The best kind of quiet in my opinion.

A titi monkey in the tree. S/he and a buddy were the only two wild monkeys I saw on this trip. I was excited about seeing these buddies, as I had not yet seen this species before in the wild. Something about their body types reminds me of Haile (my cat). haha.

Hiking Camino Al Aguajal

2008-09-29T07:57:00.001-07:00

Early verdant views on the Camino Al Aguajal Hike. (Aguajal is the name of the palm tree seen throughout this walk)

Another early morning view on the hike.

This face-like arboreal visage is really a tumor on a giant jungle tree.

According to local legend, touching this bulbous tree adornment while pregnant can result in birth defects. Though the local women are still convinced, there is no scientific evidence that anything about this bulb would result in birth defects.

Though not its official title, this Snake Tree is called the Gringo Tree, so named because its bark resembles the peeling skin of a gringo with a sunburn. So say Freddie our guide.

One of many amazing glimpses caught on the Loboyoc Creek wander.

Parrot Clay Lick and Lake Sandoval

2008-09-29T07:53:00.000-07:00

Early morning sights from the boat as we headed to the Parrot clay lick.

Though a bit tough to capture on camera (these guys just move sooo fast!), this is a brown throated three-toed sloth.

The beginnings of a massive parrot reunion. They come by the hundreds to clay licks like this each morning. Eating clay coats their stomachs (protecting them from the toxins in their food) and provides nutritious minerals that do a parrot body good.

The beginning of our hike.

A little lizard buddy, hiding in the underbrush.

Look close, those walking cuts of leaf are being diligently transported by leaf cutter ants.

While the forest around Puerto Maldonado isn't known for its flowers, this is a beautiful image of the flora we passed on our morning trek.

A cluster of small yellow and black butterflies.

The Owl Butterfly

Quite a beauty.

I like the juxtaposition here between the brown muted tones of the forest floor and the brilliant illuminating glow of the butterfly's wings. (can you tell I am studying the ways of art lingo???)

On the first leg of our 12km hike. A gangsta looking mama and her happy daughter.

Jaime of the Jungle

A crew of turtles lined up creekside as we traversed the small creek opening onto the Lake.

Entering onto Lago Sandoval

A view from Lake Sandoval.

Look closely, and you can see a line up of bats on the tree.

This little guy is one of the many spectacular birds we saw on the shadowy banks of Sandoval.

Heading back from our paddle on the serene, though sweltering, Lago Sandoval, we were welcomed by this little sight-- a turtle showing of the latest fashion: butterfly head wear.

At the end of a long day's hiking: Laura (our friend from Arequipa, Peru), Jaime, and a tuckered but triumphant Christine (my mama).

Rainforest Arrival: Puerto Maldonado

2008-09-29T07:46:00.000-07:00

My mama on the boat crossing the Madre Del Dios River from Puerto Maldonado to the small area where resides our little hotel, the Estancia Bello Horizonte.

The rainforest driveway heading into the secluded Estancia.

View from the grass just in front of our little bungalow, taken after peaceful and much missed moments of meditation.

Little Diego heading towards his human mama at Estancia Bello. The story goes that Diego, a young red howler monkey, was orphaned and then adopted by a human mama named Sol.

Diego cuddled with Sol.

Islas Ballestas

2008-09-25T06:19:00.000-07:00

To get to the Islas Ballestas, my mom and I had to wake up when most people in Lima were just catching a nice buzz and setting sights on their amor de la noche at the local discotecas. We caught a taxi to the Cruz Del Sur bus station in San Isidro at about 3:30am to catch our 4:15 bus to the south coast. At this time of night in this particular neighborhood, I was surprised to see the streets lined with prostitutes, many of whom sported nothing but a g-string and a coy, though jaded, smile.

After barely missing the bus because I was too caught up translating to my mom a children’s book about the Humboldt Penguins we would later see, we arrived into the small seaside village of Paracas with barely a moment to spare before hopping on the boat to Islas Ballestas. In addition to the standard hour-late arrival of the bus, we also did not make contact with the guide we paid to meet. Upon arriving we were thoroughly hassled by wheelers and dealers, which is standard in most places with a tourist draw.

Fortunately, the sun was already burning off the grey marine layer and we didn’t require the heavy jackets we schlepped onto the open-air boat trip. The fully loaded vessel took us first past a geoglyph called the Candelabra, which is similar to those seen in Nazca.

Candelabra

This huge figure etched into a massive sandy hill measures 150 mters in height by 50 meters wide. No one really knows when it was made or why or by whom, but there are several theories. Our trilingual guide explained that some people have connected them to the infamous Nazca lines, though this image was unlikely made by the same peoples. Others posit that the form is not a candelabra but a tribute to the Peruvian cactus San Pedro, which is prized for its potent hallucinogenic properties. Still others believe it might have served a navigational function back in the day.

The Islands
Soon after viewing this mystery, we headed through the choppy waters for the Islas Ballestas, which is considered by some to be the “Poor Man’s Galapagos.” (Having not been to the Galapagos I am unable to verify or reject such a claim.) Arriving to these small rocky islands one is greeted with the sights, sounds and smells of literally thousands of birds including the Peruvian pelican, Peruvian booby, guanay cormorant, and—my favorite—the Humboldt Penguin (named after the current that bathes Peru’s coast with unusually cold waters).

Bird Shit

Many of these sea birds produce massive amounts of nitrogen-rich guano (i.e. bird shit) as deep as 50 meters in some places on these islands. Guano is considered a premium fertilizer and has filled many opportunists’ pockets with riches throughout the centuries. In fact, it is such a valued resource that Spain waged war in the 1800s to gain control of some nearby guano-rich islands. Quite a lot of fuss has been made for these droppings indeed.

The Wolves of the Sea

In addition to birds, the caves and arches of these islands are home to hundreds of sea lions (los lobos del mar). While some are found in small groups sunning themselves sleepily on a rocky outcrop, others in a more sociable mood can be found nearly heaped upon one another on sandy shores, fighting over mating rights, or simply having a good squabble. Though I grew up near San Francisco’s Pier 39 and have lived for many years near La Jolla’s coves (both of which are favored by masses of sea lions) I believe this was the first time I have seen so many of these creatures in one natural location.

In my opinion, the Islas Ballestas are well worth the early morning rise, 4-hour bus ride, and 1.5-hour boat ride. One additional sighting towards the end of the sea journey has, of course, solidified this perspective. As we approached an area towards the shore, we were met with a big group of dolphins at least 10 strong. Some of you might know that I jokingly call dolphins my spirit animal (because they are badass), so to meet them happily frolicking in their natural habitat was quite a treat this morning! (Better than my last run-in with the dolphins in the tiny tank of Lima’s Hotel Delphines.)

After the Main Event

So all of this excitement was wrapped up by 10:30 in the morning and our bus home wasn’t scheduled to leave until 5:30 in the evening. I wondered for a moment why I hadn’t checked our itinerary a bit more closely before shelling out the cash for said adventure. To my knowledge there is not much to do in the tiny village of Paracas. The center of town looks like the architects abandoned their professions mid-way through construction, save for about 4 little restaurants on the main drag. We sat pondering our options for a short time before a woman who arranges tours approached us with our options.

Initially, we asked this jolly stout Peruvian lady if it was possible to catch an earlier bus but were soon informed that such an arrangement would be impossible because the bus company intentionally shut down their systems for the duration of the day. Not too surprising, though it baffled some other travelers with the same idea. She suggested that we take a 4 hours bus tour around the Paracas reserve. Mom and I weren’t sure about the idea of spending over 12 hours on a bus in one day. The prospect of sitting on the empty Paracas beach drinking Piscos and sunbathing sounded much more enticing. And the jolly Peruvian woman didn’t do that much to sell the Reserve option, which she described as a trip to a cathedral and some natural landscapes. We were all but talked out of the Reserve when we discovered that the lady had gone ahead and committed us to a taxi tour of the area with a younger couple and their 2-year-old son. Ah, what the hell, the piscos could wait.

And I am so glad that we went on this little outing! In fact it was one of my favorite ventures in this whole crazy land of Peru! The natural landscapes the jolly woman described with little enthusiasm peaked our interest and dazzled our eyes with each new scene.

Reserva Nacional De Paracas

The Paracas Reserve is a vast open desert abutting the sea. This makes for some beautiful contrasts between the stark yellows and browns of the seemingly still and lifeless dunes and salt flats and the kinetic azul coastal waters bathing the beaches below stunningly sheer cliffs. We began our trip with a visit to the cathedral, which was actually a rock formation just offshore that once resembled a cathedral before an earthquake sent parts of it into the sea. After this we visited a couple of beaches, one of which had dark crimson sand that was magnificently anomalous compared to its surroundings. Our last landscape views were of a lagoon with glowing waters punctuated with tiny fishing boats. Our taxi driver told us that this area was wiped out by a huge tsunami following the last major earthquake, which brought flood waters hundreds of meters onto land after taking out several small restaurants on the shore.

Our last stop on this little private taxi tour was a small wreck of a museum, which we were told was under construction following some major earthquake damage. It was charming and worth the visit nonetheless.

I am pretty certain that our little venture via taxi was by far the better way to see the reserve compared to the tour bus option (though I think both my mom and I would have gladly hopped into a dune buggy for this excursion). While the dune buggy will have to wait for my next visit, it was an excellent afternoon exploring the beauty of Peru’s south coast.

Lunahuana

2008-09-07T12:16:00.001-07:00

This weekend Rachel and I ventured on a day trip to a lovely little town south of Lima called Lunahuana. Upon nearing Lunahuana we had the glorious experience of seeing the sun, oh how I miss it so in the grey donkey belly of Lima life! [Side note: After I remarked to a Peruvian friend that the weather here was beginning to affect my mood, he replied that this experience is common for Limenos because we live under “donkey belly heaven”…this name makes me happy.] Yes, so the sun was shining and all was right in the world.

When we arrived in the small center square of rural Lunahuana, we were greeted with sights of a small church, damaged by the recent earthquake, a row of little booths offering piscos and wine under a bougainvillea-shaded terrace, a row of little souvenir booths, and an empty fountain with a deep blue basin and a stark white little statue of a boy carrying loads of grapes.

After enjoying a pisco sour (which are delicious by the way), we headed on to a small village not far away. To get there we traveled along the beautiful river Canete, which boasts class 5 rapids certain times during the year and draws an international crowd of river rafters. When we arrived in the small village of Catapalla, we visited one of the oldest winery and pisco makers in Peru and received a short tour in Spanish. If I interpreted correctly, the pisco is made and stored in these ancient looking oblong ceramic jugs measuring maybe five feet in height. Pisco is made from Muscat grapes and, in its pure form, can be as strong as 98 proof (I am currently the proud owner of such a pisco). After the tour, we tasted some wine, which is sweeter and milder than most wines; and some homemade pisco, which is stronger than many liquors. We learned that you tell a good pisco if, after shaking the bottle, a tight tornado of bubbles swirls towards the top. Its good fun.

After the bodega (Spanish for winery), we went to another little establishment that specializes in cultivating honey and pollen. I enjoyed this part of the trip a lot 1) because honey is a magical and delicious substance and 2) because I could actually understand the woman’s entire schpeal about the health properties of honey and pollen in Spanish! I think I am at the level of being able to understand Spanish when spoken slowly, though I am still able to speak only little. And my pronunciation is horrible, why I don’t know.

After honey sampling, we walked down this little path and came to a group of horses beside the river. This little man kept following us around to see if we wanted to ride on his horses. His inoffensive persistence and toothless grin made me laugh. We crossed the Colgante Bridge where we met a poor sweet little mangy starving dog (we tried to figure out how we could sneak it on the bus to save it but settled for feeding it ice cream instead) and some children that just sort of hung around us and stared.

After this, we bought a few tejas (these delicious homemade chocolate, manjar blanco, and pecan candies) from ladies who carry big baskets of treats around all day (how could you say no?) We also stopped for lunch at this place where I had trucha (trout) but was slightly disinterested because my vegetarian self has issues with eating anything that looks like it did when it was alive. I mostly stuck to these strange papas (potatoes) hidden beneath the trucha. The Peruvian ladies across from me were not at all pleased that I didn’t finish my fish. I have been a bit nervous about food since our new Finnish friend told us of how she had to have stomach surgery after living in Lima for one week because she got some aggressive and potentially deadly type of bacterial infection. Yikes! I was cautious before… but now I think I might be a bit more so. Nonetheless, we ate and drank merrily in Lunahauna. It was an excellent day trip from Lima and I hope to get back there again! Maybe this time for a nice long hike or a river-rafting excursion.

Oh, and for anyone reading this who is interested in going to Lunahuana, might I recommend bug spray. The End.

Corriendo con el mundo: Nike 10K

2008-08-31T10:57:00.000-07:00

I win!
Haha, well not exactly first place, but I did myself proud at the Nike Human Race 10K run in Lima this morning. After waking early, I headed out to meet up with my friend Mariane to warm up and get pumped for the big race. All the major streets of Miraflores were closed to traffic (which is a god-sent) and the only people out and about were fellow red-shirted racers. About 30 minutes before the race, three big-legged women on a massive stage led the crowd in a warm-up. Um, it was hilarious. Think Richard Simmons style aerobics warm up. I had a hard time going along because it was just too funny. This was only matched in awesomeness by the after-party band who sling-shot underwear into the crowd. I love this silly city.

According to my friend, about 8,000 people participated in the Lima version of this worldwide event. Lima is one of 30 cities across the globe that hosted this 10K race today. So I was involved in something truly global! Tada!

We got off on the run at about 9:10 and I was finished by 10:00. Woohoo! I ran the whole thing and even sprinted the last 1/2k or so. I felt quite accomplished because I was nearly certain I wasn't going to be able to run the whole thing. My lungs and my legs cooperated quite well and only the heat made this run challenging (um, the sun, who has been on extended vacation, decided to stop in this morning for the mere couple of hours during the run. It has since taken off again).

But it was great. I think the run was made possible by a nice music mix I compiled last night. So thanks Shakira, Talib, The Roots, Mos Def, Outcast, and Kanye. I was also inspired because I decided to dedicate my run to my dad, who is having some health issues right now. He and the musicians gave me Nike's wings. So now I feel good and happy and hope not to be too sore tomorrow... :)

Update:
If we were counting…this is how I fared in the race. I beat the average running time of 21 out of the 26 cities that participated in the race. (The best average was in Taipei) My time was 57: 54…not bad for not really training and loading up on pizza the night before the race.
The fastest time was 29:25, which is an average mile time of 4 minutes 45 seconds. That German dude is FAST. (None of the top ten fastest runners are from the US)
According to Nike, I am the 76,611th fastest person in the WHOLE WORLD. :)
The run benefitted three charities:
The World Wildlife Fund: whose goal is to create a world where people live in harmony with nature and, by 2020, to “conserve 19 of the world's most important natural places and significantly change global markets to protect the future of nature.”
Livestrong, The Lance Armstrong Foundation (their website lacks a mission statement)
Ninemillion.org: Part of the UN Refugee Agency; the “goal of the campaign is to give more than nine million children better access to education, sport and technology by 2010.”

Lima Update

2008-08-24T12:24:00.000-07:00

Just some random mundane bits about life in Lima...

Well, it is slow going on catching up with my travel blogging...as you might notice by all of the empty entries below. I am working on it...but it is hard to find time between work and spanish lessons to sit and really write. I try to make an effort to get to the coffeeshop on Sundays to get some writing done. In the meantime, I thought I'd give a little update about life back in Lima after my travels, which concluded some weeks ago.

Life in Lima is good. It is the middle of the winter, which is pretty mild for the most part. While any Limeno will tell you it never rains in their fine city, it does get misty enough to feel like rain. The temperature hasnt gotten below the high 50s in my estimation. The sun peeked out for a few hours yesterday, but otherwise it has been nothing but Lima grey. I miss the sunshine for certain. A few more months and I will be enjoying the sunny summer in Peru.

Work has been going pretty well. I am transitioning into doing more writing for my company's art history website. I am really excited about this project because I get a chance to study and write about Art History, a subject I've always wished to know more about but never had a chance to study formally. My first artist is El Greco, a prolific painter/sculptor/architect on which volumes have been written. I am a bit nervous since have much to learn about art and how to write about it, but am excited with this new element of my job.

I also just got a new roommate, by best girl friend down here, Rachel, has moved into my place. I am stoked and look forward to cooking fun dinners with her and making our place awesome.

Admittedly, I am a bit homesick and find that some days here can be challenging because of the language and cultural barrier. One of my favorite things right now is discovering new restaurants (favorites are the San Isidro french restaurant Chez Phillippe, Magma Sushi down the street from my office, Si Senor an expensive but tasty mexican restaurant, and any place with a good pisco sour or copa de vino tinto).

My mom is coming to visit me in about three weeks, which I am extremely excited about. We have grand plans to go to the jungle, which is going to be amazing, I'm sure!

This weekend I went to the center of Lima again with my old roommate Evan and our Spanish teachers. We went to the Inquisition Museum (which would have been a much richer experience if I could understand what the guide was saying). We also went to the Congress building, which is a grand edifice where Classic Greek architecture abounds. After these little tours, we ate a nice Chifa (Chinese-Peruvian) lunch in Barrio Chino (Chinatown). I bought some DVDs (5 DVDs and 2 CDs for $5!!!!). Evan bought a guitar. The End.

Next weekend, I am running in the Nike HumanRace 10K in Lima. I should be training more than I am, but I think I am ready for this run. Perhaps more tales about my Peruvian run to follow.

That is all for now. Gonna close up the computer, grab an alfajor (a delicious Peruvian cookie), pay my coffeeshop bill, and head out to a flea market.

Hasta luego.

All about Coca...La Paz

2008-08-24T12:12:00.000-07:00

A trip to the Museo de la Coca provided some of the most interesting cultural knowledge I gained on this unexpected trip to La Paz. The history of coca—arguably one of the most controversial plants on the planet—is so fascinating that I took vigorous notes (which I am known to do when traveling) at this museum. I shall relay my findings in what follows.

A Sacred and Social Symbol

The coca plant, from which cocaine is made, is a highly valued and sacred plant to the Andean people of Peru and Bolivia. In fact, it is considered a symbol of Andean identity. Though the entire plant is outlawed in the US, it is legal to use to plant parts here for teas, chews, and other purposes.

Coca leaves have served very important spiritual and cultural purposes for the indigenous people of these regions for over 4,500 years. Coca, a quintessential symbol of the sacred, is used in ceremonies, spiritual offerings, marriages, and more. It is considered a means of connecting to pachamama, or mother earth. The museum literature aptly equates this herb’s religious function to the wine of Christian traditions.

A brief timeline of the Coca plant

While this is an abbreviated (and by no means definitive) history of the illustrious and contentious coca plant, I hope I have chosen the some of most interesting parts to recount here.

2500 BC—first traces of coca leaf use discovered in Northern Peru date back to this year

1400s— With knowledge of this plant’s analgesic effects, the Incas use the coca plant to perform brain surgery.

1500—Western Christians declare coca to be diabolical and outlaw its use. They reverse this position after discovering that coca enables indigenous slave laborers to work longer hours before reaching exhaustion.

1860s—The beginning of the cocaine boom

1864—French winemaker Mariani adds cocaine to their wine. Its popularity rages for many years and inspires the creation of Coca Cola, first sold in 1886 in Georgia.

1884—Sigmund Freud, famous father of psychoanalysis, becomes the first (?) cocaine user. He produces a publication entitled “About Coca.” He later develops nasal cancer.

1880s—Parque Davis and Merck Pharmaceuticals produce cocaine

1914—Use of cocaine is prohibited in the United States

1964—A scientist by the name of Einhorn discovers how to make synthetic versions of cocaine for medical use.

1985—Coca Cola buys 204 tons of coca from Bolivia. Until 1903, the drink contained 60 mg of cocaine per serving. Coca leaves are still used to add flavor to this popular beverage.

US AND COKE: Though only accounting for 5% of the global population, the United States consumes 50% of all the world’s cocaine.

Scientifically Proven Effects of Coca:

--As mentioned above, coca consumption increases tolerance for physical labor and increases endurance

--Though consuming the plant does not increase lung capacity, coca does dilate the bronchioles, helping to increase oxygen absorption. This is an excellent attribute for a plant relied upon by people who dwell in one of the highest areas in the world. Also why coca leave tea is so highly recommended for travelers in acclimatizing to the altitude.

--Coca prevents the aggregation of blood platelets, thus decreasing the risk of thrombosis. (Perhaps this should be touted as a pre-flight beverage???)

--Has a diuretic effect on the body (as does high altitude I quickly discovered in Cuzco)

--Increases the body’s ability to regulate insulin levels

--When chewed, coca leaves act as a mild stimulant, suppressing hunger, thirst, pain, and fatigue.

Properties touted on my government-made Peruvian mate de coca tea bags:
--restorative and energetic
--excellent for diet
--good for digestion
--relieves tiredness of voice (I get a kick out of this one for some reason)
--regulates the metabolism of “carbohidrate”

I find the political implications and polar treatment of the coca plant remarkable. I personally regard coca tea as an enjoyable beverage and drink it regularly here. And, despite the US government’s reproachful attitude towards this plant (and inability to understand the distinction between a plant and drugs derived from a plant…duh), this doesn’t put me at risk or make me a druggie. The end.

Music Museum in La Paz

2008-08-24T12:00:00.001-07:00

La Paz, Bolivia

2008-08-24T11:48:00.000-07:00

Overlooking Plaza San Francisco, a chilly rainy day in the clouds...

Llama fetuses at the Witches Market-- supposedly the locals bury these under their new homes for luck and good fortune.

Typical stall at the Mercado Hechiceria (Witches Market)

Palacio Legislativo...next to bullet-riddled Palacio Presidential

Tales to come...

Isla Del Sol...minus El Sol

2008-08-24T11:44:00.000-07:00

Accompanying words to follow...

Copacabana, Bolivia

2008-08-24T11:41:00.002-07:00

The only picture I have from our short time in Copacabana...stories to follow...

Sunset arrival into Bolivia.

Bolivian Border Drama

2008-08-24T11:41:00.001-07:00

I have been lagging on updating this story, but do so now after just reading a very interesting story about Bolivia-US relations and learning of the current turmoil in Bolivia. This drama, so so so much bigger than my brief border hassles, includes a recent massive protest (20,000 strong) at the US Embassy in La Paz, which was supported by Moralez, the Bolivian president), the expulsion of the US Embassadors from both Venezuela and Bolivia this week (I write this on September 13), and the murderous riots breaking out in parts of Bolivia as I write this. Yikes. I worry that something more serious is to unfold in the coming weeks.

When I arrived at the Bolivian border at beginning of August (coincidentally, Bolivia's Independence Day), I received a lot of strife from the border agents, who said that because I was from the US (I was the only American on the bus and the only person hassled and made to pay to cross the border) I had to pay $100 at the border, provide them with 3 copies of my passport, show proof of my vaccinations, and provide a letter from someone in Bolivia saying that I was coming to visit them there. Talk about a sign that I was not wanted in their country! This completely floored me because I had heard nothing--even after working with at least 4 different travel agents in the 72 hours prior--about such a requirement upon reaching the border. When I asked them why I was being singled out, they only said, in broken English, "Your country gives us trouble, we give you trouble."

When I heard this, I assumed it meant that our country makes it difficult for Bolivians to enter the US, thus they would give me a hard time in a gesture of misdirected hostility. It was a frustrating few hours. After much difficulty, I ended up having to pay $155 (who knows the final destination of that extra $55 I was required to pay between the Peruvian and Bolivian border agents).

Now, as I am learning a bit more about the uneasy relations between the US and Bolivia, I realize their policies and hostility stem from a situation much more complex and dangerous than I had thought. It seems to me now that it didn't really much have to do with border relations at all, rather that these hurdles are a symbolic retaliation against the US presence and policies in Bolivia. According to the article below, Bolivia depends a great deal on US aid. However, the US is also seen as having an imperialistic influence on the nation, particularly in their efforts to curb coca production in Bolivia as part of the US War on Drugs (see my post on Coca to learn more about this plant's storied past).

More information about this issue to come...If you, my dear readers, are at all interested in this issue (which is a fascinating case story of US foreign relations and handling of the so-called War on Drugs), here is the article that has renewed my interest in US - Bolivian relations...
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/29/world/americas/29bolivia.html?_r=1&ref=americas&oref=slogin

Lake Titicaca: Islas Flotantes

2008-08-24T11:35:00.001-07:00

Cuzco 2: Horseback to Templos

2008-08-17T13:25:00.001-07:00

Machu Picchu and the Sacred Valley

2008-08-12T05:52:00.001-07:00

Whirlwind Machu Picchu Trip: 4 de Agosto 2008

I woke early this Monday with excitement about venturing to Machu Picchu. It felt like a holiday. There are a couple of ways to do the adventure to Machu Picchu. Basically, you can walk there (and by walk I mean hike through the Sacred Valley for days) or you can take a train. As for the hiking option, one can either take the popular Inca trail, a 4-day trek, or one of a few alternative trails, which take anywhere from 2 to 7 days. For the Inca trail, you have to reserve a pass up to eight months in advance. Being a lover of good hikes, I always envisioned arrival to Machu Picchu would be by foot; but, alas, since my trip was totally unplanned and I had only a few days in the Sacred Valley, the only option was to go by train. While not my personal ideal, I cannot complain because I still had the opportunity to visit this amazing place. Yey me!

So Jamie and I took advantage of our free breakfast at the hotel (consisting of coffee, mate de coco, orange juice, a piece of white bread and one single slice of cheese) and headed out for the 15 minute walk to the train station. We arrived at the station at 7:15 am, hoping to hop on one of the few trains leaving between 8 and 10. The train from Cuzco takes about 4 hours, so this would put us into Aguas Calientes (the little town which serves as the base to Machu Picchu) in the late morning/ early afternoon. Sounded simple enough.

In Peru….getting there is…90% of the battle…

Alas, Peru always seems have plans different from what you have envisioned. We met with a long line at the train station. After about 20 minutes, we arrived at the front of this line only to have to take a number and wait some more. It took over THREE hours for them to get to our number. We didn’t understand how on earth it could take so freaking long just to purchase a train ticket. But so it goes in Peru. During this long wait, we also discovered that of the 8 or so trains departing for Aguas Calientes daily, only two leave from Cuzco. The majority of them leave from Ollantaytambo…which is 1.5 hours by taxi away from Cuzco. Yikes. We were also learning that many of the trains were filling up fast and that we might not even be able to go at all. This was a long three hours.

Jamie was getting a bit discouraged and stressed out by the whole endeavor, thinking our chances of getting there were slim to none. I had decided early in the morning that I was going to find a way to Machu Picchu that day no matter what it took, so I remained calm and convinced that it would work out one way or another. I was going to let nothing get me stressed out or upset this day. It was my special day, one I’d been dreaming about for years. It was going to be good, dammit. Haha…

So we finally made it to the front of the line at about 1045 and sat with the woman to discuss our options. Fortunately, we still had a change to take the1230 train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas. This would work only if we left by taxi for Ollantaytambo right away. Then, we could take a 10 pm train back to Ollantaytambo and still have the long taxi ride back to Cuzco. So we had option 1: about 8 hours of travel for 3 hours at Machu Picchu or… option 2: not go at all. Though this arrangement was less than ideal, we chose the long journey and planned to make the best of it. We bought the tickets and booked out the door to find a taxi that would take us the long journey to the train station. This was a bit of a challenge as well, since most taxi drivers wanted to charge us an arm and a leg to get there or refused to take us that distance at all. We finally found Alfredo, a nice Cusqueno man, who was willing to take us through the Sacred Valley for an acceptable price. I was excited!

As we entered into the Sacred Valley, we were treated to gorgeous views of the landscape all about us. Though it was the dry season and most of the hills were brown, every curve of the bumpy dirt road brought with it new and even more breathtaking scenery. We were snapping pictures out the windows every few seconds at some massive mountains or cluster of animals we passed on the road. The scenery only got better as we boarded the train and headed towards Aguas Calientes.

We finally arrived and ran around the little town to buy our entrance ticket for Machu Picchu and reserve a spot on the bus which would take us up there. We made it onto the bus without a second to spare and arrived at the entrance to Machu Picchu a little before 3pm. (So it took us only 8 hours and hundreds of soles to get there…)

It was worth it.

As anyone who has been there or even seen pictures would attest to, Machu Picchu is mystical, magical and mind-blowing. I don’t even know if I have words to justice to what I saw. Simply, it was one of the most beautiful natural places I’ve ever seen.

It was my happy day indeed! I was there! I could hardly believe it!

Jamie and I started out by taking a small hike away from the ruins to check out the site of an old Incan drawbridge and to gain some aerial perspectives of Machu Picchu itself. After this, we explored the ruins themselves. The late afternoon brought with it the sun, bathing the ruins and the green green mountains in an almost surreal light. It was divine. Later in the afternoon is an optimal time to explore Machu Picchu methinks. The crowds have already come and gone and the weather seems to change drastically enough to get a new feel for the place.

<<<>>>>

Cuzco

2008-08-10T18:47:00.000-07:00

After this first week, the nature of my travels shifted slightly as I headed south. I came back to Lima for a few days to recoup after the week of northern adventures. I was still up in the air about whether or not I would take a second week of vacation. My friend Jamie, who I’d met initially in Lima and hung out with in Huanchaco, also happened to be heading South, so we decided to join forces for the next week. It was a perfect opportunity for me to travel with a buddy, which always makes things more fun. I knew that Jamie and I got along splendidly, and we did indeed throughout the week to come.

On a Sunday morning we flew (ah, what a nice treat after clocking dozens of bus hours!) into Cuzco, the second biggest city in Peru and most popular tourist destination (second only to Chiclayo, of course). An Andean city, Cuzco is located at 3326 meters (or nearly 10,000 feet) and serves as the base for most trips to Machu Picchu and the other ruins of the Sacred Valley. I’ve never heard a bad thing about Cuzco and it is not hard to see why. It is a lovely and charming city with a vibrant cultural pulse, blue skies (that was enough to sell me!), clean air, beautiful buildings, numerous ruins, and more.

Sky High

Thankfully I acclimated pretty well to this altitude, which not all visitors are able to do. While you can certainly feel the lack of oxygen as your heart pumps extra hard and your lungs work overtime to get you up the many hills in the area (or, really, even down the flat cobbled streets), it wasn’t much of a limiting factor for us, hoorah!

The key, they say, is to take it easy the first day, drink loads of coca tea (mmm…so good I am drinking some now), and not eat any big meals. We followed this plan pretty well and I think we owe it our success.

Incas and Quechua Culture

Cuzco was once the capital of the Incan Empire back in the day. The Inca tribes first emerged in the Sacred Valley in the 1100s (with first inca Manco Capac) but didn’t come fully into their own until the 1400s with the empire-lusting ninth inca (or king), Pachacutec. He basically bagged everything in sight (to put years of important history very casually).

Quechua is the language of the Incan Empire, and is still widely spoken in the Andes. In fact, an estimated three to five million Peruvians speak Quechua, with more native speakers in Bolivia and Ecuador. At the risk of sounding like a guidebook, I include such information because I find the Native Andean people intriguing, especially the women.

Quechua Mamas

In addition to distinct traditional dress, most of the women also have on their backs huge heaps of goods and/or children swaddled in colorful cloths. I hope their husbands are good masseuses. But, interestingly, the women are not often seen with men. It would seem (from my limited observation, at least) that most women move around solo or, perhaps more often, accompanied by one or two other women of the same age, with whom they seem close.

I am interested in learning more about these ladies and their culture. I have done a few quick searches (ever the learner) and what I have found so far is some information about forced sterilization of the Quechua women by the Peruvian government happening as recently as the late 1990s (boo). Less controversially, I have also learned that they call themselves Runa, or the people, their social system is based on reciprocity, and coca leaf chewing is an integral part of their spiritual and cultural identity (more about the coca plant later). And, yeah, so I don’t know very much yet. I hope to learn more.

And I digress.

So the first day of exploring Cuzco was a joy. It was so incredibly nice to be in the mountains and the sunshine, away from the bustle of big city life. A cleansing much needed!

Trujillo Sightings

2008-08-10T14:40:00.000-07:00

Trujillo Continued…

Gas Station Museum

So on yet another day when the Spectacled Bear trip failed to unfold, we settled for some museum-going in Trujillo proper. For its strangeness factor, we attempted to go to a Zoological Museum filled with taxidermied Peruvian animals, but, alas, it was closed. So we went to a special museum under a gas station. Literally, under some equivalent of a Shell station is where this cultural destination dwells. You would never, ever know this random little jewel existed if it weren’t for some sort of tip-off. We actually went as a joke (and for a total lack of better things to do) but were pleasantly surprised by this superb and charming little museum.

We met the collector, Jose Cassinelli Mazzei, at the entrance. This old man, who was just going about reading his morning paper, was the type of man you just know has an amazing life story to tell. All of us agreed in wishing we could sit him down and hear his tales for a while. But, instead, we were led under the gas station by a younger archeologist who showed us Jose’s phenomenal collection of ancient ceramics and other treasures, which filled this small room from ceiling to floor. This collection is truly a sight to behold. Loads of ceramics from the Moche, Sipan, Nazca, Chimu, and Incan cultures. While each piece was fascinating in its own right, the ones I found most interesting were the ones depicting the illnesses, animals, people, and the Gods. They even had this strange mummified ancient backbone-exposed fetus displayed in glass casing. At the end of our tour, our buddy played for us some ancient whistles. I shot a short awkward video of the whole thing. It was sweet.

Gringas!!!

While walking on the streets of Trujillo, an old man actually stopped in his tracks to stare at us in wonderment, proclaiming “Oh, Gringas en Peru!” This was not the last time we would prompt such a reaction from locals on the streets. It is extremely bizarre, and uncomfortable, to receive such a response from people you encounter as you innocently walk down the streets. This week, I was treated as more foreign and strange than I ever have in my life. In Chiclayo, where this feeling reached its breaking point, we were literally stared at, followed, and actually touched (maybe to see if we were real?) by scores of children and grown men alike. Quite unsettling and also illuminating.

I remember my friend Dawn, who spent the good part of a year doing Peace Corp work in Africa, once told me how she was treated by her local tribe. She said they would often touch her skin, in awe of its whiteness, follow her around, and beg to see her photographs, since they were such a complete oddity to them. She explained how strange it was to feel like such an anomaly. Though I think my experience was milder and much briefer than Dawn’s, I can relate now in some ways to this experience of being so different than the people by which you are surrounded.

Chiclayo

Ever in pursuit of those damn elusive bears, Rachel and I set out for Chiclayo the morning after Ania returned home to Lima. This trip, in retrospect, was unnecessary. Not only did the trip to see the bears not work out (of course) but this was the strangest most uncomfortable place I have ever been to visit.

(Disclaimer: My apologies to all the fine citizens of Chiclayo for what might become a scathing review of their city. I am sure this place has many fine features and treasures I didn’t behold. But, to do justice to my experience, I will be frank in my dislike of my brief stay there. Lo siento Chiclayo)

Stepping off the crack-o-dawn bus from Trujillo, I quickly assessed my surroundings and nearly freaked out. Chiclayo was, for us, a total assault on the senses. Horns blaring, people literally screaming in your face about some random product they want you to buy, tons of people crowding down the street making forward motion near impossible, unsolicited molestation from men, wretched smells of rotting flesh and car exhaust (especially in the marketplace), cars hurling at you in every direction…you get the idea? I felt affronted and threatened and scared.

Anyhow, to make a weird story short, Rachel and I decided that we would leave this city first thing in the morning. After going to four different restaurants just to find one with something somewhat vegetarian-friendly (a place way-big on fried chicken and stewed goat tripe and organs), we booked our new bus tickets and went to explore the Witches Market.

Mercado Modelo

Acclaimed as one of Peru’s most interesting markets (I am learning to decode this word interesting) by the Lonely Planet guidebook (i.e. the “Gringo’s bible”), the Mercado is a huge bustling marketplace. We headed past rows and rows of booths filled with virtually everything sellable, towards the Mercado de brujos (the witches market). Here, several stalls offer strange herbal concoctions, snakeskins, hallucinogenic potions, whale bones, unspecified powders and pills, aromatic herbs, and more. It was quite interesting to see.

Just a few items slung on the streets of Chiclayo:
• Puppies
• Little birds
• Socks (sold aggressively)
• Quick divorces
• Photos
• Homemade baked goods
• Calculators
• Toothbrushes

Monkey Sighting

As we hightailed it out of the market, we were greeted with a sight that stopped me in my tracks—a little brown Capuchin monkey on a short metal chain atop a tiny box. This poor buddy was more stressed out in Chiclayo than I was. I used to study primates in school and have seen videos of world markets with chained monkeys but this was the first time I saw one live. I was speechless, just standing there watching this splendid creature pace fervently back and forth on his tiny perch, ready to launch something at some unwitting passersby. It made me sad to see this suffering. I still feel a bit speechless about this sighting (I saw another chained monkey in Bolivia…I do not like this one bit, I tell you!) Sometimes we humans are a bit disappointing.

A pint of Redemption

Rachel and I did our very best to make the most of our day in Chiclayo. After the market, we went to some bookstores, which sold myriad outlandish Spanish books. For me, there is something comforting about a bookstore. It was a nice respite from the streets. We also found a pizzeria (only open at night) and had some delicious pizza. (By the way, pizza is the universal default food of Western travelers, methinks.)

After this, we headed to the hotel before curfew (it is really unsafe to be on the streets after dark, as you might imagine), Rachel dyed her hair, and I looked forward to getting back to some semblance of normalcy. And thus was my day in Chiclayo. Ah, la belleza.

Burning Bus

One more thing… after arriving back in Trujillo on a Linea bus, we caught a cab to Huanchaco to retrieve our temporarily abandoned bags. On our way, we were greeted with the sights and smells of a bus—a Linea bus—engulfed in unabated flames in the middle of the street. It was nuts. But in that moment in time, Rachel and I weren’t even fazed by the sight. We just shrugged and snapped a picture. It was an interesting week…

Chan Chan Ruins in Trujillo

2008-08-10T13:38:00.000-07:00

Chan Chan

For the sake of brevity (at which I am terrible as you might have discovered), I will try to give you the quick and skinny about Chan Chan. Ha, wish me luck.

Chan Chan, also located in the Trujillo area, is the largest Pre-Columbian city in all of the Americas, tada! Chan Chan, built around 1300 CE, was home to the Chimu people (who came after the Sican people, who proceeded the Moche), who are best remembered as an urban society. At the height of their empire (before the Incas conquered in 1471), over 60,000 Chimu people lived in the nine sections of Chan Chan. While this sprawling ancient city once housed vast treasures of gold, silver, and ceramics, today it is skeletal, with only the walls remaining to tell its story to visitors. As evidenced by the photos, these walls, which once stood over 30 feet high, are elaborately adorned with geometric designs and animal friezes. The Chimu people venerated the sea and the moon.

Random Side Note:

While wandering the vast brown stretches of Chan Chan’s Tschudi Complex, Rachel and I discovered that we share a childhood friend. This guy (whose last name is Tschudi) is the son of her dad’s best college friend and someone I went to junior and senior high together. It’s a small world after all!

The End.

Huacas De La Luna Y Del Sol

2008-08-10T12:00:00.000-07:00

Huacas De La Luna Y Del Sol

Since the Spectacled Bear adventure didn’t pan out, we decided to head out and explore some of the ruins of the area. Our first destination, located about 8 miles south of Huanchaco, was the site of two huacas, or temples in Quechua (more about this Incan language/culture to follow). We explored only the smaller and apparently more interesting of the two, the Huaca de la Luna, which was the ceremonial and spiritual center for the ancient Moche people who once lived in the region. Due to heavy rain damage, the larger Huaca Del Sol, the largest pre-columbian structure in Peru (built with over 140 million adobe bricks), is not open to visitors at this time. The two huacas are separated by a 500-meter expanse of land on which the Moche people used to live.

A bit about the Moche people

The Moche people, named after the river flowing into the ocean just south of Trujillo, were a pre-Incan civilization that lived in the northern coastal areas of Peru from about 200 BCE to 850 CE. While the Moche had no written language, much about their culture has been deciphered from their stunning ceramics work, which is considered the most artistically sensitive and technically developed of any found in Peru. By analyzing their pottery, archeologists know quite a bit about daily Moche life, including their social hierarchy, as follows from most powerful, honored, and obeyed, to least:
• Priests and warriors
• Artisans
• Farmers and fishermen
• Servants
• Slaves
• Beggars
Methinks, you can learn a lot about a culture by understanding what social roles existed and were most valued.

In addition to ceramics, the Moche culture produced sophisticated art works in metal, painting, textile, and architectural varieties. Several complex Moche pyramidal structures survive to this day, including the huacas.

The Huaca de la Luna

The Huaca de la Luna is one such pyramidal structure, impressive in its size, design, and surviving artistic works. What else is really cool about this Huaca? Like many places in Peru, excavations here are still underway, and much of the huaca has yet to be discovered. Visiting a site still in the midst of discovery is a cool experience.

Ania, Rachel, and I were graced with a lovely and knowledgeable tour guide who showed us around the complex, narrating the stories behind the sites. As we entered the complex, she explained that the Moche people chose this site because of its proximity to the Cerro Blanco, or white hill, located just above the huaca. They believed this hill was a spiritual site and governed architectural development of their complex in accordance with the hill’s size and shape.

The Decapitator

In an area closest to the Cerro Blanco, the high priests of the huaca hosted elaborate sacrificial ceremonies to the Decapitator, or the creator/maker God. As you may guess, beheading was a key feature of these sacrifices, as was skinning (ew). (The Decapitator was the favorite word of our tour guide, which was mildly amusing only because many of the tales sounded a bit like outlandish ghost stories). Young men were the lucky sacrificed, and it was an honor to be chosen as a human offering to the Decapitator. Something in this strange tradition reminds me of contemporary suicide bombers for some reason- this idea of dying in the name of your God. But I digress.

Do Overs and Animal Connections

One more interesting thing about the Huacas (okay two)—every 100 years for 600 years, the Moche people completely built over the existing huaca structure, giving the edifice its pyramidal shape. On each level of the onion-like structure, there are elaborate friezes centrally featuring the decapitator (okay, okay, my new favorite word too!) In addition to the Decaptitor, several animal images appear and reappear throughout the structure. Each of these animals represents a different natural or cultural phenomenon. For example, birds (such as pelicans) represented wind, snakes represented fertility, foxes represented power, spiders represented rain, catfish the sea, etc. I am finding from my incipient art history studies that animals have been a chief subject of art and worship since the beginning of time. While this may seem like an obvious observation, I find it interesting that humans have always been so closely connected to the animals around them.

Okay enough about the huacas, check out the pictures ☺

Huanchaco 26 a 31 de Julio

2008-08-09T19:54:00.000-07:00

27 a 29 de Julio

Instead of staying in Trujillo, lovely as it was, we decided to make Huanchaco our home base for the next few days. Located about 8 miles west of Trujillo, Huanchaco is a little beach locale we had read was a popular resort spot with great surf. After checking into the Hotel Suiza, a decent little hostel about five blocks up the road from the beach, we proceeded to have a mellow day of exploring the town.

Huanchaco lives up to its name of being a sleepy fishing hamlet. It was not at all crowded, which it is reported to be come summertime. One of the cultural highlights of this beach town is the old reed boats lining the boardwalk and littering the shoreline. These are the same type of boats used over two thousand years ago by the pre-Incan Moche civilization (see “Huacas” for more about them). Nicknamed caballitos de tortora, or “little reed horses,” these boats, fashioned out of tortora reeds, have long been used for fishing.

In my estimation, Huancaco’s charm must be magnified by the sun. We were lucky to have a bit of sunshine the first afternoon we arrived, but the rest of the trip was Lima-grey. We made the most of it by setting out to explore the ruins littering this coastal desert locale. (We had grand plans to make a four-hour trek to a nature preserve boasting Spectacled Bears…but this never came to fruition despite our daily dreams of doing so.)

Trujillo, Trujillo, Trujillo!

2008-08-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

Domingo 27 de Julio

As our July vacation rapidly approached, Ania, Rachel and I took our sweet time making any definitive plans. Originally, we intended to book a bus to Huaraz, a mountain area where Ania had some friends we could stay with. This plan sounded perfect until we discovered that all the buses were full for the weekend we planned to leave. Being Peru’s Independence Day, the last weekend of July is one of the busiest times to travel. This we discovered the hard way. As we scrambled to find an alternative adventure, we thought about traveling to the south but eventually decided to head north in hopes of finding some sunshine (as we hardly get any in Lima).

Ania only had a few days to travel so we thought that Trujillo sounded like a good destination. After this, Rachel and I planned to set out for this awesome surf and sun setting in the far north called Mancora. We booked a hotel then only to discover that all the buses were booked for Mancora as well! Curses! So we decided we’d just try to make a week out of Trujillo. While the expectations weren’t see too high, we were hoping for some beach time in the sun and maybe some ruins.

Late on Saturday night, we embarked on an overnight bus to Trujillo, which is approximately 10 hours from Lima (the guidebook says 8 hours- it bends the truth more often than not, I have discovered). Groggily we arrived in Trujillo on this early Sunday morning and decided to wander towards the city center (the Plaza De Armas, one of which every city in Peru seems to have).

When we reached the Plaza, some sort of military procession was underway. There must have been at least four types of outfitted troops in the square. After finishing some sort of flag or marching bit, a woman broke out in Opera-like song and everyone stood at attention. Being an outsider at the outskirts of this event, I went to sit down and take my heavy, heavy pack off (um, I often pack like a boy scout…I am prepared for anything). Immediately I was reprimanded by an armed soldier, who didn’t like the idea of my taking my pack off and staying awhile. As we stood in freeze-dance fashion, we watched as people who tried to leave the square were chastised with harsh but silent warnings that stopped them in their tracks. Apparently nobody moves a muscle till the fat lady sings.

We jetted out of the square right when she finished, for fear that we might be stuck there all morning if more singing was to ensue. Trujillo felt like a ghost town this Sunday morning. Hardly anyone was about on the streets except tour mongers and armed military personnel. This undoubtedly gave the town an eerie feel. We decided to grab some coffee, in a vain attempt to shake of the sleepiness inevitable after a Peruvian overnight bus ride.

As we sat sipping greasy coffee in a crowded breakfast joint, a group of teenaged soldiers with guns half their size came marching to the corner. With all the seriousness of troops preparing for battle, the group proceeded to chant the following:

Buenos Dias, Buenos Dias (Good morning)
Desayuno, Desayuno (Breakfast)
Es Delicioso, es Delicioso. (Its delicious)

And then they marched on down the streets. Our first impressions of Trujillo were thus.

Central Lima 26 de Julio 2008

2008-08-09T11:08:00.000-07:00

Went down to central Lima with my new friend Jamie this day. Ate some pizza, checked out some interesting catecombs (skulls, bones, and all) underneath a church, and hung out in the main square before heading back home to pack for my week-long trip to the northern beach area of Peru.

www.flickr.com

Ania's Cumpleanos

2008-07-20T11:52:00.000-07:00

Tonight Ania, Rachel, Evan, and I went out to San Isidro to celebrate Ania's birthday. We went to this French restaurant (my favorite in the city so far... sorry traditional Peruano restaurantes...but they have tarte flambee!). We had the whole darling place to ourselves because we ate at 8pm, which is way early for dinner by Lima standards. We filled the place with laughter as we enjoyed wine, crepes, pizza, and more. Ania even taught us how to sing happy birthday in Polish! It was quite a cultural event! After dinner we went to this hotel that has dolphins in it! It was awesome...but mid-drink, I fell asleep in the bar, haha! It appears that dolphins have a very sedating effect on me (or maybe it was the wine!)...I am learning I am not the night owl most Peruvians are...I cant keep up with these nocturnal creatures! Anyhow, the night was fabulous. Here are some photos...

Ocean Parks of Miraflores

2008-07-20T11:10:00.000-07:00

So I finally took my camera out in my neighborhood, to capture some beautiful shots of the beaches, parks, and cliffs near my house. These photos reveal some of my favorite views in Miraflores! I was lucky to catch these on a sunny day, el nino is bringing us warmer weather than is typical for this time of year. You won't hear me complaining...

Pyros and Parade

2008-07-17T08:53:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday marked my first taste of the festive Peruvian spirit. All morning, people were busy closing streets, putting up decorations, setting up lights, and getting ready for the annual Wong Parade for Fiestas Patrias. Let me break down that last part. Wong is, well quite simply, one of the coolest stores ever (if you’re into cool stores, of course). It has long been a source of pride for the Peruvians because it was Peruvian-run… until recently (when the Chileans bought it—a sore subject here), yet the national pride it provokes seems not to have faded. Wong is great for many reasons, but if you just need a few they include, live music, free samples, guys in Sombreros (maybe they go by another name here???), dancers, smiling people, tents, parade hosting. Think Target crossed with a traveling carnival (You may have to see it to know its glories).

Back to the Parade. The parade is hosted by Wong in celebration of Fiestas Patrias, which is Independence Day here. Peru won its independence from Spain in 1826, shortly after several other South American nations, led by Jose de San Martin and Simon Bolivar, achieved their liberation. The official day of celebration is the 28th of July (for which my street is named). However, this parade took place on July 12th. I like places that celebrate one day for a whole month. It reminds me of my childhood attempts to celebrate my birthday for an entire month. I appreciate the spirit!

Anyhow, Rachel and I ventured out to meet our friend Ania at the parade just as it was beginning. It was so crowded and crazy on the streets it was nearly unbearable. There were literally points where you couldn’t move even if you picked both feet up off the ground. So, we decided to head for higher ground and settled in on the fifteenth floor rooftop of Ania and Rachel’s apartment building. It was a most excellent vantage point. From there, we could see three different points on the parade route, the big empty school yard from which they would later launch fireworks, and the masses of people crowded everywhere. Its was a well attended event to say the least.

As darkness fell over the festivities, the street lights all went off and this spooky loud organ music filled the streets. It was a haunted house prelude. But soon, the fireworks began. Unlike the US, a country that is so cautious with its placement of fireworks in proximity to gigantic crowds, the Peruvians light those puppies off right over the masses. I’ve never been so close to a fireworks display (well except for the Louies boys’ pyrotechnic display in the courtyard by my house growing up). It was awesome, and at times dangerous. At one point, it literally looked like a rain of fire and flames was showering down on the people in the streets. I was happy to be on the roof.

Papas in Pachacamac

2008-07-17T08:08:00.001-07:00

Last Saturday, I ventured to Pachacamac with two coworkers, my Spanish teacher, Felix, and his girlfriend. Pachacamac lies approximately 30 km southeast of Lima in a coastal desert area. Approximately 1000 years before the Incas came ‘aconquerin, this archeological site was a place of worship and pilgrimage for those who paid homage to the ancient god of creation, Pacha Kamaq. When the Incas arrived, they made used the site for administrative functions, though they allowed the local priests to continue practicing independent of the Incan religion. While the site is no longer in use, one can still find remnants of palaces and pyramids build and renovated by the Waris and the Incans.

The first building we came to was a large U-shaped complex where the women of the ancient culture, the mamacunas, used to live and work. According to the wonderful translated sign, “mamacuna” means “one who makes the function of mother.” In addition to the teaching and religious functions carried out here, the site was used by the Incans for a purpose very different in nature. If you look at the building, you can see a series of openings on the second floor. This is where the Incans would display the young female virgins, which were to be chosen from by some powerful Incans men. Felix told us that if a non-Incan man wished to marry a woman, an Incan man first had to take her virginity. True conquistadores.

The second complex we came to was the Templo Del Sol, or Temple of the Sun, situated at the corner of the complex on a high bluff overlooking the Pacific. Being a sun worshipper myself, this was my favorite area of Pachacamac. The views from the top were splendid. Between the site and the sea were patches of dense green flora, nice long stretches of sandy beach, and even a bull fighting ring. The ancient peoples chose well when then picked this vantage for their sun worshipping.

Oh, and a word about the dogs of Pachacamac, I have never seen such creatures! They are grey and hairless little buddies, with skin much like elephants (I call them perros elefantes). They are small and sweet. Though they lack hair (pelo, in Spanish), they are heat generators: the local people cuddle up next to them at night, especially those with conditions like arthritis. I like these dogs. (I like most dogs). As evidenced here, the Peruvians love to put jackets on their dogs, which I find quite amusing since it’s more of a fashion statement than a necessity.

After the ruins, we drove another 15 minutes into the town of Pachacamac, to attend the first annual EcoGourmet Festival. While everything about this little festival was awesome (as organic food festivals with music and free samples is right up my alley =), the best were the huge displays of Peruvian potatoes. Did you know that 2008 is the year of the potato? Año de Papas indeed. Peru grows over 2,800 types of potatoes, more than any other country in the world. And they are quite proud of this. They even have an International Potato Center, the first of its kind. Impressive. All silliness aside, this organization is actually pretty neat. This is the first part of their mission statement:

“The International Potato Center (CIP) seeks to reduce poverty and achieve food security on a sustained basis in developing countries through scientific research and related activities on potato, sweet potato, and other root and tuber crops and on the improved management of natural resources in the Andes and other mountain areas.”

In addition to potatoes, the festival boasted fine local cheeses, jams made from fruits I’ve never met before, delicious chocolate and nut candies (um, this little piggy ate six!), yogurts, fresh breads, veggies, herbs, pisco (the national liquor), and more. Needless to say, I enjoyed my time wandering around this little festival. I also got to practice buying things using my incipient Spanish skills. I think I did alright, but boy do I have so much more to learn! All in all, a fine morning soaking in the Peruvian culture!

Nuevos años

2008-07-16T11:58:00.000-07:00

Being that it is the middle of the year (and feels like a summer day here in the middle of a Peruvian winter) I find it completely unfitting that I write this entry about New Years. Nonetheless, I shall proceed. This weekend, as I awaited a speactular Independence Day fireworks show on the roof of my friend's apartment building, I was talking with my friend Ania about holidays here. We were talking about how incredibly festive Peruvian people are. For example, the parade and fireworks display I just recently witnessed was attended by at least 10 babillion Peruvians, who came together to celebrate a holiday that still won't come for another two weeks (this is much like us celebrating the fourth of July on June 21st). Awesome.

Ania told me all about the customs that take place here for New Years, which I found fascinating enough to warrant a blog entry. Though I plan to be in the States for Nuevos Años this year, I plan on carrying out each of these traditions with whoever wishes to join me.

Here is Ania's written explanation of a Peruvian New Year (without modification)...

1.) The yellow underwear. Actually, anything yellow will do--they think it's a good-luck color, but wearing yellow underwear is a particular favorite. If you roam the streets in the days leading up to New Years, you will find an endless array of yellow garments. They are often a popular Christmas present (poor little children!!).
2.) The 12 grapes. At midnight, you have to eat 12 grapes and make 1 wish per grape. I assume the grapes represent the 12 months, but no Peruvian has been able to confirm or deny this theory.
2.) The lentils. Depending on the family, at midnight you either stuff your pockets with lentils or grab handfuls of them and pour them over everyone else's heads so that they will have prosperity in the new year (the pouring over the head method is much more fun!). **note: make sure the lentils are dry, obviously :)
3.) The crazy run through the streets with baggage. People take to the streets with their suitcases and run around the block (I think you're supposed to run around the block 3 times, but again this varies) so that they will travel in the upcoming year. Some people also do this with cash.
4.) The burning man. You make this scary looking straw man a couple days before New Years and let him sit in front of your house in a chair, often accompanied by a lantern. The Peruvians often stuff him with fireworks, but I would not recommend that myself! Then on New Years, you light him on fire. That way you're killing the old year and all of its bad spirits and making room for the new one.
5.) General mayhem. Everyone lights fireworks and bonfires in the street and just goes loco!

Um...have I mentioned how much I love this country??? I can't wait to discover more of these little cultural jewels...anyone want to come here for New Years instead???

Random Knowledge Part 2: Sex Hotels

2008-07-07T21:22:00.000-07:00

Most young people in Lima live with their families until they get married. As a result, one finds lip-locked lovers scattered about the public parks and beaches, as home is not the best haven for such endeavors. I learned this weekend (not through first-hand experience, I assure you), that numerous hotels in the city cater specifically to these lovers, renting cheap rooms by the hour or night. Some of these rooms are fully outfitted with the young lusty couple in mind (think stripper poles, mirrors, and the whole nine). So I hear. Interesting, this city. Very interesting.

Random Knowledge Part 1: KFC

2008-07-07T21:18:00.000-07:00

All over Lima are signs of the US’s absurd global reach. For example, McDonalds is situated on one of the biggest corners in Miraflores and fills the space of nearly an entire city block (with two floors consistently packed with people). In the past week, I’ve walked by or careened past (see: “Killer buses”) Radio Shack, Tony Roma, Pizza Hut, Burger King, and admittedly indulged in the guilty pleasure of Starbucks more than once last week (I know, I know).

There also seem to be KFCs everywhere. Apparently when KFC first opened in Lima, many people viewed it as an upscale American restaurant. People actually would dress up to go to KFC, making an event out of it. I find this amusing.

Cielo azul!

2008-07-07T20:53:00.000-07:00

The sun came out this weekend! It made this sometimes drab city vivaciously vibrant. I shall attempt to record some other stories from this weekend (including drinking beers with a sweet Peruvian family, my first clubbing experience, stumbling upon an ancient Pyramid, and my adventure to Barranco for the strongest Pisco Sour ever made). For now here are a few photos.

"Professora de Peruanos"

2008-07-07T20:44:00.000-07:00

I seem to have stumbled onto a new side job: introducing kettlebell training into Peru. While many of you are familiar with the kettlebell, allow me to explain just a bit about this strange method of exercise to those wondering what I am talking about. A kettlebell is essentially a solid iron cannonball with a handle on top. Use of kettlebells originated in Russia, where the military would use them for strength training and conditioning. Over the past few years, a Russian man named Pavel has been spreading his k-bell enthusiasm abroad, certifying kettlebell instructors in the States and I would imagine elsewhere. One such certified instructor is my dear friend Lauren, who introduced me to what I initially dubbed “the Russian torture workout.” I eventually got hooked.

As I was preparing for my trip, I talked to Lauren about the potential presence of kettlebells in Peru. I argued that it was unlikely that Peruvians participated in such preposterousness but she was sure that I would find them here. We were both right. A week before my departure, Lauren forwarded me a message from a Peruvian guy (coincidences abound…he is also named Jaime) who runs CrossFit Peru. He wanted to translate one of her articles into Spanish and post it on his website. We both took this as I sign and I sent him a message saying that we should maybe meet up after I arrive. Over email correspondence, I learned that while Jaime and some of his friends were interested in bells, Peruvians were unfamiliar with them and preferred to workout in mega-gyms like Golds. He said that it was not possible to get bells in Peru, but that he had made some (which I found interesting since I don’t know how I’d go about procuring the materials to manifest a cannonball). He also said that no one in Peru really knows how to use bells and asked if I would train him and his friends. So we set a time to meet.

He picked me and a few other friends up Saturday afternoon and we headed to his house (some of which was converted into a gym facility). I didn’t really know what was going on (as I often don’t when I am with people who speak a language I’m only beginning to grasp), but, as it turned out, I ended up conducting a kettlebell training seminar to a group of people, including the Lightweight South American Champion of Muay Thai (i.e. Thailand kickboxing), an instructor of Krav Maga (an Israeli martial art), a sweet Russian girl, and three other smiling sweating Peruvians.

I almost had to laugh at the situation I found myself in…but I was loving it, as I do most times I find myself in totally random and unexpected situations. My new students (weird) loved the session and asked me if I would come back next week to train them. They offered to trade their martial arts and self-defense training for my k-bell training. Additionally, as I was getting out of the car, Jaime gave me one of his specially made kettlebells to keep.

A Peruvian kettlebell! (…which is big and hollow unlike the US version). This whole situation is fabulously fascinating to me. I dig the series of seeming coincidences that landed me in this situation.

Killer Buses

2008-07-07T20:12:00.000-07:00

There exists in this fine city what may prove to be the bane of my existence: death buses. This is literally what the locals call them- combis de la muerte- or killer buses. And with good reason. These mobile machines of mayhem careen down the street in every direction, black billowing smog clouds trailing treacherously behind. Men hang halfway out the open door shouting their destinations at you, as a cacophony of crying car horns pierces the ears. The majority of these mini-buses, meant to hold maybe a dozen or so people, are packed like clown cars with at least five times as many poor souls, hunkered over in hopes of making it home alive. No joke.

Now imagine trying to catch one of these killer buses to where you actually want to go in a city where you recognize nothing. Very fortunately for me, my poor co-worker blazed the trail over the past nine months of transport torture, and knows the colors and sizes of the buses that might just take us to work at 7 in the morning. The perilous properties of these death machines are compounded by the traffic, through which it can take up to an hour to travel about five miles.

And then there is the ride home. Imagine, if you will, the Tijuana border at six on a Friday afternoon. People stumble onto the bus intermittently, selling everything from homemade slices of pie, to candies, to cigarettes, to children’s toys. They jump in as the bus slows down on a corner and hop off at the next. All in between the screams of the bus man hollering destinations and frenzied people trying to hop on the right bus. It’s truly a sight to behold. It also makes me realize that my day really wasn’t that bad and that some people truly have to hustle to even make a sole (Peruvian currency).

Nonetheless, I am extremely thankful that my company’s office is moving five blocks from my apartment this week. I am one lucky gal. Now if I could only rescue my lungs from this toxic tumult. On the bright side, I manage to miss the worst of the muffler muck by taking side streets around town, where death buses are scarcer.

This morning I saw a man actually taking a broom to the walls, attempting to scrape off the grime and dirt spit at it from the many cars clamoring about this city. Good luck there buddy.

Forgive me if I appear to be complaining. As you will find, I am most happy with my new home in most regards. However, the minibuses are my nemeses. And so it goes.

All in all, the chaos and confusion of Lima’s streets make me smile. It’s nuts but there is a certain charm to it all. We’ll see if that perception persists. ☺

Lay of the Land

2008-06-29T10:05:00.000-07:00

~~~Sights from my balcony...though the fog makes it tough to see, this is a view of the ocean~~~

I write my first official entry in Peru from a small coffee shop just down the street from my new home. I am sitting next to a young family (a beautiful mama and two little boys) and the eldest boy was very excited to see me pull out my computer. He explained in a few English words that he is going to get a computer soon (he actually told me he was going to get two, which his mom quickly corrected). I showed him my screen saver, which is a photo I took of Cardiff beach just before I left, and he and his mom instantly said “California!” I guess that view is the quintessential stereotypical image of Cali. As they got up to leave, the mama, her name is Lourdes, gave me her number and explained that she spent two years in the US (her sons were born there) and that people were so nice to her that she wants to return the favor to me. Her exact words were “I am for you.” So sweet. New friends. You know I am smiling…

But I digress. Allow me to attempt description of my first few days in Miraflores, a district of Lima, Peru. Perhaps even before getting to my experiences, I should briefly provide some back-story about my new homeland (or at least a few basics that I know so far). As my taxi driver from the airport explained to me in Spanish, Lima is the capital city and home to approximately one-third of Peru’s population (or about 8-10 million people). Lima is a big city with 43 districts, one of which is Miraflores, where I currently dwell. Miraflores abuts the Pacific Ocean and is considered one of the most popular districts for visitors and Limenos alike. This is perhaps because it is one of the more well-to-do areas of the city, with beautiful parks, a bustling nightlife, gorgeous ocean views, and more.

As yet another preamble to my experiences, let me also explain a bit about my place and my new roomie. I live on a street called Malecon 28 de Julio, which roughly translates to Independence Day Street (as July 28th is their Independence Day). I am lucky to live about one block from the beach, with ocean views from my front balcony. The apartment complex, called Marbella (Italian for beautiful beach???), is gated and guarded (by a couple of nice gentlemen I look forward to bantering with once I know some more Spanish). I live on the second of sixteen floors. My apartment is a two-bedroom, three-bath, with ample living, dining, and kitchen areas, and a nice little balcony. My bedroom—which is on the street side (I wear earplugs at night…think living on the first floor of a NYC apartment with windows that don’t close all the way)—is a great size, with its own entrance to the balcony, my own bathroom, and enough room to do yoga ☺. My roomie is a bit jealous that I seemed to have lucked out with the nicer of the two bedrooms (though he lives in the back of the apartment and, thus, doesn’t require earplug assistance to slumber). All in all, I am very happy with my new home!

My roommate, Evan, is from Washington State. We get along well so far, and he has been great company for dinners, wanders, and talks over Argentinean wine. While I enjoy his company, I have spent most of my days solo, wandering my new backyard on my own. As most of my close friends know, walking and exploring are some of my very favorite things to do…thus I am a pig in sh*t right now (to be unnecessarily vulgar). I think I clocked in about 8 hours of walking yesterday (and one hour of running—as if I didn’t get enough exercise). I am beginning to grasp the lay of the land, as I have a pretty good sense of direction and location. I spent most of my day yesterday exploring what is my very favorite part about this city so far…the beaches! In my neck of the woods, there are approximately five miles of wanderable cliffs looming over the Pacific Ocean, which are bejeweled with gorgeously green parks. Each with a unique character, these well manicured parks are filled with playgrounds, dog parks, statues and fountains, tributes to famous war heroes and lovers alike (about 500 meters from my place lives a hugantic statue of two lovers embracing—it’s awesome), park benches (often occupied by lovers in the flesh and blood), skate parks (for all you skater buddies of mine, this park trumps most I’ve seen at home), long winding stairs down to the rocky beach, and more. [I plan to take pictures to share but am a bit nervous about getting my camera snatched. I will wait till I am in the company of friend-sentinels methinks.]

While not as crowded as many of the breaks at home, the waves here attract many surfers throughout the day. As I sat and watched them for a while after my run yesterday, it reminded me of home and all my friends who should come visit and surf these Peruvian waves ;).

One of these cliff-top parks is the take-off site for paragliding above the city, a popular pastime, though probably more of a tourist thing. Touristical or not, I am thinking of going paragliding this afternoon or sometime soon, as birdlike views are a favorite of mine. Don’t worry mom and dad, it looks safe.

Love, love, love.

Over and out.

En El Avion

2008-06-29T10:03:00.000-07:00

(Originally written on an airplane ticket during an early morning scribble--June 26th)

I awoke this morning to airplane window views of the verdant volcanoes and valleys of El Salvatore. Every shade of green seems represented on the mountainsides and valley floor. It looks luscious and more beautiful than this nation appears to get credit for. Though I resist making erroneous comparisons, these sites sparked stored memories of Kauai and Costa Rica’s gorgeousness. After landing at the small San Salvatore airport early this morning, I waited just a short time before boarding the craft on which I write this now. My trip so far has proceeded without major incident. The only excitement was the shuffle of my belongings from bag to bag at SFO to achieve the proper weight balance and reduce the extra baggage fees I inevitably had to pay despite my game of musical belongings. Details.

While most of my journey so far has been spent sleeping, my quasi-wakeful mind has been settling on memories of recent times—friendships forged and fortified, goodbyes to some of the best friends I’ve ever known, well wishes from family, and all the love I have been showered with in the past weeks and days. I can’t say I have ever felt more loved than I do at this moment. And of the countless reasons I have to be deeply grateful, this one outshines them all. This love, so generously given by my dearest friends and family (i.e. YOU!), fills me with strength, purpose, and courage. Though today marks the beginning of a journey without all of you, I do not travel alone, nor do I feel loneliness, for you are all present in my heart. All I can say, with gratitude, is mucho gracias para todo.

I am ready.

Prelude to Peru: Hiking Desolation Wilderness

2008-06-25T08:41:00.000-07:00

Grad and Going Away Fiesta

2008-05-28T08:51:00.000-07:00

Here are a few pictures from my May graduation-going away party at Fidel's in Solana Beach, California. It was a great celebration with my dear friends, lots of laughter... and tequila. :)

Why I Travel.

2008-05-12T23:23:00.000-07:00

As I finish my last semester as a student and professor at San Diego State University, one of my last tasks is to grade a set of essays my freshmen have written. Their assignment was to read a chapter from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried titled “How to Tell a True War Story.” In this chapter, O’Brien delves into the deeper meaning of war, expanding into the truth about life, love, and death. He plays with the notions of telling and of memory, complicating the inclination to think of truth simplistically. After reading this story, my students were to craft their own “true” story on a topic of their choosing and use O’Brien’s strategies to unravel and reveal the deeper truth in their stories. I have encouraged them to write about a story that means something to them, a story they retell to themselves and perhaps others, trying to get it “right”-- to pin down its meaning and its truth. They have come up with some wonderful things to share.

So why, as the first entry to my Peruvian travel blog, have I chosen to begin by explaining a college assignment? Well, I believe any good story should always reach for the why, for the truth of things. And, I think this is an appropriate assignment to give to myself. Thus, here is my “true pack-up-and-go story” about why I am going to Peru. Perhaps only my students or those who’ve read O’Brien will pick up on my specific choice of strategies here, but my hope is that it will entertain and inform all of you.

This is true.

Wanderlust has been in my bones since my early 20s, or perhaps my teens, as I think back to trips I took—come rain or snow—during high school. In college, I remember listening to my male friends tell of exotic places and invigorating experiences upon returning from afar. Had I been a chameleon, I would have certainly turned envy green. How I wished to explore the world. I could literally feel it in my body, like hunger or passion. While some girls were secretly planning their far-off wedding day, I was secretly devising my far-off travel departure day.

But why? What is it about travel that intrigues me so? Some people say only those who are dissatisfied with their lives are compelled to travel. While this notion sometimes perplexes me, forcing me to ponder its truth, I firmly disagree. It isn’t about dissatisfaction. In truth, it is about rediscovering your joy and your passion in a new context. In truth, it is about experiencing things that will enable a deeper satisfaction with life. However, this satisfaction doesn’t come simply. It must be earned through travel. Those unhappy and challenging times—the ones that drop you off the edge of comfort and roadrunner chuckle as you coyote down the cliff—must be absorbed and inspected for their meaning. Sometimes you can only laugh and appreciate what they taught you long after they have happened.

I remember traveling in Europe about five years ago. I had decided at the last minute to jump on an overnight train from the South of France to Rome. I didn’t have a reservation, but assumed all would be fine if I just tucked away with my friends in first class. My first blurried sight (caused by a good bottle of Italian wine) of the grumpiest Italian train attendant ever caused me to quickly re-think my assumption. After spending a few hours getting kicked out of train car after train car, I ended up in a car that looked like the streets of downtown New York City. The dirty and downtrodden playing cards and craps or crouched down to sneak brief rest with one eye open. I was the only young girl amidst several leering men in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to go. There was nothing to do but trust that the rest of the night would pass without incident. Fear was in me. But it wasn’t in control. I found a place to close my eyes, waking once, alone except for an older man sitting upright, just staring at me. But then the train crept into Termini station and someone whispered “C’est Roma” (Perhaps in the early morning I look French?) And it was all good.

It’s funny how the scariest most uncomfortable travel stories often become the most memorable and meaningful to you. I love this one. I think of it now fondly, though I was certainly not fond of my circumstances at the time. A true travel story takes on new meaning when you have lived to tell it. The best travel stories are never about snapping that perfect shot of some building or some scene you see in magazines (just so you can say “I’ve been there”). The best travel stories happen in the dead of the night as you step over sleeping bums in search of a place to rest safely for a few hours. The best travel stories shake you out of your comfortable routine, push you into the moment, and make you feel alive (even if you also happen to be scared shitless).

This is why I travel. This is why I am going to Peru. I want to feel the embrace of each new moment. I want to feel that unfamiliar Andean air on my skin. I crave navigation of the complete unknown. This is why I am traveling out of my comfort zone. It is that experience on the Italian train that I want to live in a new context. Because it makes me feel alive. Because it tests me and makes me stronger.

But this is not the answer I commonly give to people who ask me why I am going to Peru. I say: I just finished my masters and landed a good writing job. It is going to be good for my career. It’s actually a better prospect than my job options in the States right now. It is going to be an asset for me to learn Spanish. It will be a nice change of events. It’s a good opportunity. I am young and have no obligations, so it’s a sensible time for such an endeavor. I love to travel, and this will allow me to do so while making money.

This is true. But, if you think that is all there is to it, then you don’t care much for the real truth. Any pack-up-and-go story always has deeper underlying motivations. My true motivations for going have little to do with these surface statements. (Though, yes, I am excited about my upcoming job and the opportunity to learn a language, thanks Koech!) My pack-up-and-go story is, in some ways, a reaction against these reasons.

Americans are particularly good at defining people by what they do and how they make their money. (My mom says the icebreaking question “What do you do?” is the human equivalent of the canine butt-sniffing welcome. I love it.) It seems we often value the dollar chase more than we do our families, our pets, our friends, and even our own happiness. I’ve seen the darker proliferations of this ideology play out in my family and in the lives of people around me. I want none of it for myself. Even if that means struggling against what society tells me I should want: A job I slave for, a “perfect” family I never see, a nice house where I barely sleep, you know the American Reality. While these things gain you acceptance by the many, I would rather live understood only by the few that share this rejection of a peculiarly American type of suffering.

This is not to say that I don’t love my country and my life here. I absolutely cherish them both. I find new reasons to be grateful abounding with each breath I take. I find new reasons to love our freedom-seeking American spirit when I see it in my friends, my family, in strangers, and in the man I hope will become our next president. (Don’t worry, I will side-step a political digression). I am thankful for the privileged life my family has given me. For the generous and infinitely loving energy my parents selflessly share with my two brothers and me. For the love, kindness, and laughter of my friends. These are the reasons it is hard for me to leave and the reasons I will return with excitement after my time in Peru is up. I am also thankful for the smiles I get from strangers and for the kindness I learn each day to become better at showing myself.

This is why I am traveling. Not because I want to get away from something, but because I want to develop an even broader view of the beauty and life this world has to offer. Because I want to expand my own compassion to include others. To gain a glimmer of understanding about people that are nothing like me. To recognize that, in fact, they are just like me. Because I want to connect deeper with life. This is why I travel.

There is another set of reasons I am traveling. These are hard for me to tell. These are the ones about the sadness that spawned my search for new experiences. This part is much harder to tell the truth about. In the last year, I experienced three significant losses that shook me to my core. I saw my typically bright and optimistic nature bleed out and the blackness of anxiety and self-doubt seep into the marrow of my being. The intensity of my suffering spun me towards a breaking point. But this breaking made openings for new life and new meanings, turning suffering into strength. Its beautiful how life works this way.

Because I love travel so much, I decided I should take this as an opportunity to make that passion come alive again. It would be a choosing of life for me (in response to the deaths I’d experienced in recent months). A choosing of myself above other concerns, worries, and expectations. I wanted to replace my self-pity for being one amidst twos (and threes) with gratitude for my path and an acceptance of what life has generously offered me. I wanted to look inside, ask myself what I really want out of life, and then go out and do it. This is why I am going to Peru.

In the end, a true travel story is never about travel. It is never about coming and it is never about going. It is about enjoying the journey. It is about this very moment. It is about life at its most real.