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¡Hola todos!
Grab a cup of coffee, it is another long one. By the way, thanks for all the positive feedback on the blog so far. I am no longer having trouble with uploading photos so enjoy.
Thursday, June 30th
The first week of Spanish classes are coming to a close for us and sitting in class for 4 hours every afternoon while the city of Cusco hums and buzzes is not an easy task. Add to the fact that I have spent most mornings this week trying to sleep in and recover from being ill and feeling weak only to get up, head to the cybercafé and spend hours uploading photos to no avail (looks like a big slideshow and wine dinner when I get back folks, for the rest not in SF, once I get home I´ll publish the photos using my computer and you´ll get an edited version of all the good stuff) and writing in my journal. Now that things are caught up I should be able to make it to a museum or two today as well as the book store to pick up a grammar book since I lost mine the other
day and am lost in class without it.
The school is really good so far. I have two very good teachers. Miriam gently prods me with teasing when I mess up or when I tease her about riding to work on a horse in San Francisco (Yo voy a mi trabajo a caballero) and Elena is very patient with the class, she can sense when we do not understanding something and finds a new way to get us there, both are very talented teachers. My ability to read Spanish is improving quickly but my ability to speak is slowly improving, I am intimidated by the general fear of looking stupid in public here in Cusco, even though they are very patient with the gringos. The other students in the class are quite a mix. There are about 35 students total from Europe and America and down-under and the school is run by a Dutch couple, hence the large amount of Dutch and German students at the school. They all seem to party all night and then stumble into class at 2 in the afternoon. It is wonderful to meet so many diverse people from around the world, for example:
Lucas from Amsterdam is a huge futblol fan and went to several games in Lima and in Brazil in his travels. When we were asked to pick someone we did not like very much, he picked George Bush, Anna picked Michael Jackson, and I was forced to pick the next worst person in America, Arnold the Gubunator. We then had to talk about the things that each of those people either liked or disliked in the first person. George Bush - A mi me gusta la guerra con los Muslims! Micheal Jackson-A mi me gusta los ninos muchismo! And so on, America getting slammed in the Third world, no big surprise here. In class, the teachers have us talk about our lives back home in Spanish to practice and in this way we get to know each other better. We have met some nutty people as well but I’ll save those stories for later. The other night at dinner I ran into a guy who used to teach at Prescott College. He came in the restaurant and he looked familiar and was with another student from San Francisco. We got to talking and mentioned he was from Arizona and was
a teacher at a college several years back. His name is Mike McPherson and he was only there my first year but we swapped Arizona stories in a surprisingly familiar way and he told me he has a ranch near a little town called Wenden, which is in the middle of the desert between Prescott and the border of California. I told him I knew the area well having done field work there; he was amazed that I found the area as beautiful as he did.
The real challenge of this trip so far has not been the language barriers but the environment. However beautiful this place may be, it is much polluted. And the weather has been a bit of a surprise too, very cold at night and it is getting dark at 6pm, not what I expected for a summer trip. Last year I had light until 10 pm in British Columbia. It also gets frustrating having to drink bottled water here all the time knowing there is no recycling. Sometimes navigating the crowded Plaza de Armas can be a challenge due to the endless young woman trying to seduce you into…going into their club or restaurant
with promises of….free drinks. They actually physically press up against you and gently push you towards the door, not as exciting as it might sound. The other real challenge is in figuring out why the taxi drivers always honk their horns. It is such a curious ritual that when observed closely makes no sense. First, there are thousands of them moving through the streets like rats scurrying off in fear of extermination. Horns are constantly used, I mean constantly. When you get out of the taxi, there is one right behind you honking the horn allowing no time to unload. The people who share the street with these taxis must be very careful too, even on the sometimes wide sidewalks, not just the narrow streets. The taxi will blow the horn as they pass by you from a safe distance. Now here is the thing. There is never an ounce of malice or impatience in any of the driver’s faces or in their eyes, nothing. They seem eternally patient on the outside yet the blaring of the horns continues on until dawn sometimes. There is never a cross word spoken either, it is like a toy they can play with,
just there for fun. I find this really strange.
I guess the most interesting experience this week came after spending about an hour reading my book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez titled Living to Tell the Tale, it is his autobiography but it is written very much like his novels with the same scale of tragedy and beauty and death and life of all his novels. I have read most of his books as well as several other South American authors but after I put the book away and went to pay my bill something magical happened. The world of South America suddenly came alive for me, the stories I read about in these books were apparent in the eyes and faces of the people around me. I had a heightened awareness of the emotions of the people around me as well and I think they sensed this as they all began to engage me in a more personal way for the first time since I’ve been here. I would not say I now understand this culture completely, that would be pretty foolish, but a window has opened, a new window that I greedily stand in absorbing the new perspective
I have found. This experience has happened before as I have traveled in the states, moving to LA at 16 gave me a new understanding of the music from that area, especially the Doors and moving out west helped me appreciate Native American cultures in the same way after having read many books about and by them. There is something about coming to a place that is visceral, the land and it inhabitants are connected, sometimes in profound ways and sometimes in sad and tragic ways, but they are always connected.
Friday, July 1st
As the week wears on and the weather is warming up considerably, I am able to go farther a field in Cusco searching out more unique and local style experiences (except watching Y tu Mama tambien the other night at film night at the school!). That is the great thing about staying in a place for a while; an intimacy develops that helps you go beyond the obvious. With the hurried rush of Americans and Europeans and Aussies and a huge population of Israelis (who don’t seem to rush at all) all around me, my pace has slowed considerably. I have wandered to some
remote areas looking for bookstores suggested to me by Elena and Miriam, have found some tucked away restaurants (had some amazing falafel and hummus for lunch) and markets where I slowly begin to pick out gifts for friends and family and have found huge walls of Inca stones as the base for colonial buildings built during the conquest. Actually, during the conquest of the Incas, the Spanish put facades over the amazing and articulate stone work here in what was at the time the capital of the Inca Empire, covering up the majestic work. But in 1950, the most major earthquake in 3 centuries, uncovered the stone work that had all been but forgotten. The city of Cusco embraced the discovery and re-built itself on top of the exposed and ancient stone work. Everywhere you go you see this blending of Inca architecture and new world design. Even the old Temple of the Sun, which had a cathedral built on top of it, became exposed and embraced as a great architectural find. To further my appreciation of this country and area, I visited the Museo de Arte Precolobino as Jake suggested being the best museum in town. Well, he was
right. I challenged myself to read all the background information in Spanish but became frustrated after a while and slipped into the English versions. The Museo is located in the Plaza de Nazarenes in a restored colonial palace that was built around an Inca courtyard designed for ceremonies of a political nature, inside the courtyard sits a café that is in a glass rectangle that we are going to this weekend, a very artsy and high end place I hear (review to follow of course)
The exhibits are laid out in adjoining rooms that move around the courtyard in dark passages and they follow a time line from pre-Inca groups to Inca art up until the conquest. By far the most amazing art came from the group known as the Mochica. Their attention to detail, color and symbolism far exceeded any other sub-group of its time. The work had a direct connection to the natural world and to the divine at the same time; I was so moved by these pieces which were ceramic bottles, wood carving and articles of war. The other amazing part of the exhibit was the gold and silver work by the Incas. Once they
absorbed all the sub-groups into the Empire by conquest, they became amazing artists producing gold and silver bowls, plates, statues and ornaments. It was interesting to see all over the museum quotes from artists like Paul Klee and Paul Gauguin and Picasso praising the depth of artistic skill in these ¨primitive pieces¨, these artists all exclaimed to be inspired by the simplicity and power of the designs. I left feeling I had seen some of the best art of my life and the exhibit was very accessible with detailed and informative prose by a famous archeologist from Peru named Lorca Hoyle. I quickly headed to the artisan markets to see if any of this skill is still alive here in Cusco. I found plenty of crafts in the styles I had just seen, which I found inspiring, the crafts still sprung from the history of the area. I also found lots of stuff that made me feel like I was in Times Square as well.
Some very memorable meals have occurred in the last few days. We went to dinner at an upscale place on the Plaza and I had ravioli with local squash and some type of herb
butter that was outstanding, and I mentioned the great falafel of course. My favorite dining experience came this morning, but not because of the food, which was great, but the place itself. Jake told me about this local breakfast place right on the square so I went there and I found a place that filled me with memories of growing up and of home so strong, I had to sit there long after I was finished just to try to understand what it was about this place that caused these memories. Most of the customers were older men and woman, locals, having breakfast over lively and friendly chatter. Suddenly, I was transported back to New York as a kid sitting around a café with my crazy Italian-Spanish family having breakfast over lively chatter too. The faces reminded me of my aunts and uncles and cousins and the mixed up Spanish became familiar too. I sipped some great coffee very slowly as to not rush out of there, how often do I get have breakfast with my family these days? The spell was broken when a very nice fellow came over to my table and asked me in English ¨How’s the
food here? ¨ I asked him where he was from, New York he responded. I told him, this is the place to have breakfast today.
We also went to a true gringo place called Jacks last night. The place is hip and loaded with us white folk chowing down on cheeseburgers and ceaser salads and other American delights. Jake wants to know why I’m not going out at night drinking and dancing. I’m not sure, but it comes to me later as we are walking home that I want to enjoy every moment here without distraction, my mind feels sharp, my emotions alive, I want to keep it that way.
Saturday, July 2nd
My beard is finally growing in. Jake told me I looked really young without it, which was fine but I’m glad to have some hair back on my face.
Jake and I went to breakfast at the Hostel this morning and then hired a taxi to take us outside of town to the farthest ruin where we planned to walk back to town, a short walk of 8km. You can hike through 4 different ruins along the ridge above Cusco, each ruin different
in size and function. As we were heading out the door we met two women from England who asked if we could share the taxi, they were also heading up there. We gladly had them join us, we really have not met many people outside of our class and they were very friendly. After a quick and chatty ride up to the ruins we got out and begin our hike descending through the first three ruins quickly as Erica and Kirsten read the history from their guide books. The biggest impression I got from our hike up until that point was of all the little children hanging around the ruins asking for money to have their picture taken. That was all they seemed to know how to do and they would follow us around saying the same thing over and over, I found this sad that this was how they make a living. The hostel we are staying at uses their profits to get children from Cusco and the surrounding areas educated, fed, and socialized so they can grow to do more than beg. Many of the kids the hostel works with come from living situations that to say the
least, are horrible. No food, water or even shelter sometimes and parents who allow the children to beg to bring home money or sell postcards in the Plaza. It is inspiring to see this couple, who have officially adopted close to 30 children and have had another local Cusco couple adopt 12 girls, use the Hostel as a way to bring hope to these kids lives. They employ close to 40 local Cusquenans and don’t have volunteers, opting to pay their employees well so they can keep their kids in school as well. The hostel supports close to 250 kids with hot meals, homework support, hot showers and a sports program designed to build self esteem and promote positive social skills. The bulk of the kids live with the couples or in foster homes in Cusco. The couple has even managed to have 2 little girls of their own since starting this program in 1998! I feel great that we found this place.
It was wonderful to be walking high above the city in the pleasant weather and chatting with our new friends. Both of them teach law at different universities in England (one in Kent and the other
in Lester) and we had some great and informative talks about the differences of our political systems, the joys of good beer, the problem with the retirement of Justice O’Connor (yikes!) and the dangers of a Alpaca sneaking up on you. We finally reached Sacsayhuaman, the largest and most impressive temple above town and were able to explore the massive area without the festival activities of last week. The main stone wall is laid out in a zig zag pattern that is meant to represent the jagged teeth of a puma. In fact, the Inca laid out the shape of the town of Cusco to look like a puma from above with Sacsayhuaman as the head. There were the same perfectly stacked, smoothly faced red granite stones that are all over Cusco but these were in some cases 10 times bigger than anything else we have seen, some of them were 20 feet high and 8 feet across and deep. How they moved these, and why, is a big mystery. All around are local kids and adults selling wears amidst this site and I finally succumb to the pressure and buy a small wind flute with the chancaca symbol painted
on it, the same symbol found in the Temple of the Sun in Pisac and other sites. I plan to use it in class this year as an attention getter but I better learn how to play it since it sounds horrible under my command presently. We finally reach the top of the ruins after some fun rock-climbing shots on the stone walls (how desecrating of me) and a slide down some 40 feet of polished granite known as the Inca slide and get the best view of Cusco we have had so far. The red tile roofs spread as far as the eye can see from end to end and across the narrow valley with some snow capped mountains to the south. This is a much bigger city than I though it would be and I begin to look forward to the smaller towns of the Cordillera Blanca. There is not much to do in Cusco since we have visited most of the sights, we’ll settle into school a little more and enjoy being part of the community a little while longer but I think one more week will be just a little too long. We have the Inca
Trail looming and I’m dying to get to the mountains and meet Mark and be immersed in the culture of climbing. Even though climbers can be quite annoying and self absorbed, you can always find someone or a group that is out there for the right reason, not to accomplish something big but to have something big happen to them by being out in the mountains.
Monday, July 4th,
Well, it is back to school this week after yet another eventful weekend. I can’t seem to get my body fully healthy, now I have been nursing a sinus headache and cough that has moved to deep into my chest so I’m back on the anti-biotics again for 3 more days.
Ron has arrived, Jake’s friend, and with him a new energy for both of us. On his first night here we went out to dinner at one of our usual spots and then headed up to the Fallen Angel, a very hip bar next to the Museum of Pre-Columbian art. We met Erica and Kirsten there and found the only place to hang out was in the back private room that was dark, almost dungeon like, with
tiger and leopard patterned pillows along the four walls, it felt like a porn movie set! We finally got some drinks and moved to the front of the place where we sat around a bathtub filled with fish with a glass plate over it to act as our table. This place had enough chic to rival anyplace in SF or New York. The nice surprise for Jake and Ron was the amount of gay men in the place, the first we have seen since being here and a very cute waiter as well. We enjoyed our mojitos and margaritas over the fish tank for a few hours and then headed home.
On Sunday we made our big adventure to the Sacred Valley, planning on visiting Chinchero, Urubamba and Ollantaytombo. This would be a full day using all public transportation, or so we thought….
We met Erica and Kir at breakfast and shared a crowded taxi over to the bus terminal to Chinchero. The first part of the journey involved a slow and very crowded ride on a smelly bus over to this small town in the high plains above Cusco. As soon as you get outside Cusco, everything
changes. The land becomes very serene and beautiful as rolling hills of farms and pastures take over the entire horizon. Chinchero is higher than Cusco and sits pretty much on top of the highest part of the plain. After several squabbles between people trying to get on and off the bus, we depart for the market and find a small but vibrant square filled with local produce and products and lots of tourist items as well. The prices are cheaper but everyone is struggling with how to decide the quality of the various items we might want to buy. Erica, with some help in Spanish from Jake and I, finally buys a few baskets while Ron struggles with a small picnic size cloth. I quickly see Ron has a very soft spot for kids; he starts buying all kids of trinkets from them and then is very good about hanging around and talking with asking them about their families and so on. After about an hour we bid good bye to our English friends and depart to Urubamba in what is known as a collectivo. This is really just a shared taxi and did we share this taxi. The taxi
is a small Toyota wagon that seats five snugly and there are six of us. I try to convince Ron to take the front seat but he insists having Jake sit on his lap in the back next to two village women. As we head out across the high plain I ask our driver a few questions about himself and I find I actually can converse in Spanish enough to keep a conversation going for about 10 minutes. Ron and Jake are doing the same in the back seat when suddenly it happens….
We come over a rise in the plains and there right in front of us are the high peaks and deep, deep canyons of the Cordillera that run the length of the Sacred Valley from east to west ahead of us and to the north in the distance you can see the Cordillera Vilcamba that surrounds Macchu Picchu. I can not describe the emotions I feel when I see these mountains, their scale is like nothing I’ve known and they rise so sharply in front of us I can’t imagine how we will get down to the valley at their base. My only reaction is to
ask our very safe driver the names of the various peaks. I recognize a few of the names but most are unfamiliar, as they should be. These are the largest and most tortured peaks I have ever seen with peaks that seem impossible in their shapes and dimensions, it is almost enough to get me to stop believing in glacial carving and consider the hand of god, but, I come to my senses and begin to examine the distorted vision with my usual scientific clarity (yet my heart pounds at the pure beauty of which I can’t describe).
With our faces plastered to the windows we begin our decent into the Sacred Valley, that name now taking on a whole new meaning for me, and marvel at this brown landscape as it curves slowly at first, then sharply down into the valley. A sudden stop to pick up 3 more people who get stuffed into the back with a goat and our car is now full. We descend into the town of Urubamba, a very small and quiet place and on a Sunday after noon we witness a family based gathering around BBQ and futbol and drinking a fermented
corn drink that I must try. We have a nice lunch at the only place open on the square with some other gringos and our waiter, a native of Noe Valley!, gives us the inside scoop on the best way to travel in the Valley. In the town, you can no longer see the peaks since the foothills rise in steep relief right from the valley floor which is barely a half a mile wide. We grab a taxi to our finally destination and arrive 15 minutes later at Ollantaytombo, yet another spectacular and unique ruin in the Valley. This ruin is built into a very step hillside fin that just out into the valley and offers views to both the east and west ends of the Valley, a few 20,000 foot plus peaks can be seen over the chocolate foothills. This ruin has a very elaborate water canal system and some garrisons built high into what appears to be a 75 degree hillside, just barely clinging on and ready to fall and topple into the very clean and touristy town below. I like the little town, the second to last stop on the way to Macchu Picchu, with its
small Plaza and local crafts, it seems, for a tourist trap, mellow and friendly, kind of like the type of place you find in the US at national parks.
It is getting late and we are not sure how we will get home at this point so we head back to the Plaza to figure this out. We struggle with getting on a bus, super crowded and super long, and we decide to get a taxi to Urubamba and the re-evaluate. Our taxi driver then offers to drive us all the way back to Cusco, some hour and half away, for 12 dollars! Sounds good to us. We speed off down the road, horns blazing and stop in Urubamba where our driver downs a quick mug of corn beer with some friends and then back in the car when suddenly he pulls over, something is broken. After a few minutes I hop out to help and find….IT THE HORN!!!!! How is he going to survive the ride to Cusco without his horn!! After several failed attempts, he says he will fix it in Cusco and we’re off again at very high speeds…without a horn. He is by far the
most aggressive taxi driver we have had passing uphill on blind curves past three to four busses while children play with their livestock by the roadside and no HORN!!! Jake, in the front is thinking this is the end, good to know you all, Ron is eyes closed in the back as I set my camera on high speed action mode and hang out the window trying to get some shots of the Cordillera as we ascend back up the valley in the perfect afternoon light. I don’t dare ask him to stop or slow down; he is on a mission with no HORN!!!!
The only tragedy of the trip was arriving back in Cusco via a steep and dangerous road through the hillside slums, a lot sooner than expected, and finding I left my Maryland hat in the taxi! My only hat I had here, now you will see photos of me wearing some kind of fake Yankees hat or even worse, a Cusco Peru hat two sizes too big.
Our last Sunday night in Cusco, which is very quiet and peaceful for the first time since arriving, is spent over an ok dinner but finished off
with incredible cheesecake, some cold medicine and 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
See you next week after the Inca Trail from Huaraz!!
Buenos Días, Tardes y Noches.
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Sherwood
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Hatless Joe
Hey Vinnie, send me your address and I'll send you a cubs hat :-) xoxo