Pollito Solito

I had recognized him from somewhere. He was hard to forget. He had a tall thin frame, with long black hair under a cowboy hat. His forehead and his chin jutted out, like the ends of a crescent moon. His face was slender with deep set eyes. He must have been of pure Inca blood. He ran at me from two blocks away. He ran down the cobblestone street surrounded by stone walls. I was confused. I only recognized the man, we had never spoken a word. What did he want? When he was one length away from me, he made a fist and cocked his arm back. My mind went blank and I reacted. I dodged his punch and caught his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back. He bent over and screamed with rage. ... read more

I woke up to a perfect day. The weather was so nice that, over breakfast, I decided to take a return trip to las Canteras. Dark emerald green humming birds darted across my path. I was feeling a bit lazy and wanted nothing more than a relaxing day exploring the quarries. Of course, I was in for more adventure than I intended. I arrived at the first quarry after about an hour. I hadn't taken a sip of water. I had barely broken a sweat, and I wanted to keep it that way. I explored the igloo-like tombs that sat perched on top of boulders, like old birds peering down into the valley below. I found nothing within any of them. I took a couple pictures and headed down toward the second quarry. The trail brought ... read more

Beeds of sweat dripped from my head into the bile below. I gagged and coughed up the white saliva of dehydration. I was dizzy and began to look for the best place to pass out. The bathroom floor had no accomodating spaces. I was weak and y arms trembled as I grasped the toilet seat. It smelled like death and I felt possessed by something very evil. I'd return to my room cold, weak, and thirsty. I knew I'd have no more than an hour before I had to return to the bathroom. Slipping under my warm blankets, I felt an indescribable comfort. For a few sublime moments I could escape the pain and rest my exhausted body. The cramps returned like clockwork. My bowels were so loose that I could barely make it to the ... read more

We drove deeper into the jungled mountains. The driver took as far as his car could go. We thanked him and started up the trail into the dark forest. Colorful birds dartted from branch to branch overhead. Vines hung from tremendous trees like pre-historic snakes. Soon we found ourselves in the middle of a banana grove. Hundreds of bananas hung all around us. The boys rushed at them as if they were made of gold. We stuffed our mouths with the sweet sun-baked fruit. When we couldn't eat any more, we stuffed our bags full of them. As we climbed, I began to feel a drizzle, though there wasn't a cloud overhead. The water didn't feel as though it was coming from above and I soon realized why. The roar of the waterfall sounded like a ... read more

It was overcast and drizzling when we arrived in Patacancha. The air was thin, the mud too thick for our car to pass. We walked the short distance to the the town, if the scattering of adobe huts could even be called that. We were on a tour, with us was a middle-aged couple from North Carolina. The weavers were unaware we were coming, so as we past through the street Kiri had to call out "tenemos un tur, queiren tejir?" The women either dropped what they were doing or had nothing better to do. Thirteen of the indigenous women gathered under the four straw huts Awamaki had erected as an exposition area. Their brilliant orange skirts seemed to consume them as they sat down. They set to work, pounding stakes into the ground. When this ... read more

The people of these mountains are sad. They are generally introverted and shy. They seem truly a conquered race, who have lived in poverty since Europeans arrived over four hundered years ago. How much livelihood have they lost since they once governed themselves and the country they inhabited? Tonight, Doris described me the issues Ollantinos face with agricultural diversification. There are no local markets to support diversified farming nor is their education to inform farmers of how this may be done. The only vegetable of any worth growing in Ollanta is corn. The overproduction of corn leads to oversaturation in the local markets. Saturation lowers the price of corn and saps the income of local farmers (who seem to occupy the majority of the non-tourist industry). Other vegetables are imported from distant places, like Arequipa, when ... read more