Trujillo Sightings

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…