I decided that while Erin was still sleeping, I´d run down to the nearest ATM and grab some more soles. This should have been a quick walk downhill to the Plaza de Armas, but that ATM wasn´t working, so I had to venture further afield to the Avenida del Sol to find one that did. At that point, I was already close to one of the sights I wanted to see, called Qorikancha. This was the most important Incan temple compound in the city of Cusco and had been resdiscovered thanks to an earthquake in the 1950s. The Spaniards, when they came, had repossed the building as a church (Iglesia de San Francisco), and so much of the Incan stonework had been hidden by the Spanish additions. When the earthquake struck, the Spanish parts didn´t withstand the shaking, fell the the ground, and left the Incan temples to be standing
The Incans built all of their buildings with the walls at a 6 percent incline upward (sort of trapezoidal with the widest parts at the bottom). This, along with two masonry techniques, meant that although many Spanish buildings were destroyed in earthquakes, the Incan temples were more likely to withstand the shaking of the earth. The other techniques they used were to unite two stones with bronze to function as glue, and the machahembrada. Machahembrada literally means "male-female" and it meant that one stone would have a recess, while the other stone had a protruding peg to fit into the first. I´ll leave you all to figure out why the name was as such.
I came back to our B&B, refusing to use my map and thus extending my walk by a few accidental blocks, thinking about Cusco. In comparison to any other Latin American city, it´s much less modern. No high-rises, and despite the multitides of stores selling alpaca wool godos, leather-worked ítems, and jewelry, it reminds me of a city you may have seen a few hundred years ago. It´s more or less a city for its residents and a jumping-off point for travelers, akin to Independence, Missouri on the Oregon Trail. It´s also very manageable- I feel very at home by the end of 3 days, and feels fairly secure (using smart traveler practices). It´s a fascinating change of pace.
Erin and I then set out to run some errands, most importantly checking in with our trekking company. I think we both felt greatly relieved afterward: there are stops every 15 minutes or so, lots of ruins and scenery to enjoy along the way, and we´re at camp every night by 5 at the latest. There is a pass called Dead Woman´s Pass, which we´ll have to go through on our second day, and it looks pretty tricky. Good news is that we reach camp by 2 or 3 PM that day! We´ve both been bothered less and less by the altitude, which is also a relief.
Erin then headed back to the B&B while I returned the the Plaza, the city residents were already starting to form a crowd for a procession (religious parade) for Nuestro Senor de los Temblores (Our Lord of the Earthquakes- in the 1850s an earthquake struck Cusco on Holy Monday, and they've held the parade ever since to honor God for allowing the survival of those who didn´t die). That said, when I asked one of the guardia how long till the parade, he told me an hour later, so I had lunch (Tequenos con palta, which is basically cheese wrapped in a wonton, fried, and served with avocado) then met Erin. Little did we know that the procession actually lasted into the late hours of the night!
That afternoon, Erin and I ran trek-related errands and picked up the last few things needed (small bills of soles to buy water and treats along the trek, more bags of coca candy, made from the same plant as cocaine, it actually helps fight the effects of altitude sickness, etc). After climbing the hill (third time that day for me, and I wish so badly I had a picture so you could see what it was really like), it was nap time. Our dinner that night was at a local sándwich joint, where the man Juanito does masterful things with meat. Mine was lechon with salsa de pina. Lechon is a traditionally roasted pig that´s very common in the área, and he tops it with pineapple sauce since this is also a locally available fruit.
We finished the night in a Café Cultural across the Street from our hostel, where a small boy (Aloum, the son of the owners) had us bent over in hysterical laughter as he lugged a tiny blue guitar around, went up the the mics onstage and yelled "Hola todos, es Dinosaurio por Big Boy" (Hi everyone, this is the song ¨Dinosaur¨sang by Big Boy). It reminds me of a certain younger brother I have who used to call himself ¨Brady Daniel Haughney, Big Boy¨(love you bro!).
Today I woke up not feeling so great- I had chalked yesterday´s runny nose up to allergies or altitude adjustments, but an additional cough convinces me that this is not the case. So we slept in (last night that I´ll be able to do so until April 6 between trekking, flights, and work) then worked on packing our bags for the trek. We each hired the services of a porter to carry 6 kilos for us (11 pounds), which will amount to our sleeping back, our sleeping mat, and a spare change of clothes. In our own bag, we have to carry wáter, snacks, cameras, and things like gloves, hats, bandanas, fresh socks, and toilet supplies that we may need at any given momento.
*I just realized the line above said momento, and I should add that the keyboard I{m working with is not particularly reliable, so please ignore the typos, random capitalizations, and punctuation erros.
Brunch was cappucino french toast served with fresh fruit (so much fruit!) and brightened my morning. We passed by a shaman shop just to see what this is about. Shamans are traditional healers whose tradition lasts thousands of years. In particular, you can go on trips (doublé meaning) with shamans: in Peru, ayahuasca (similar to peyote) is completely legal, and people go on shaman-guided spiritual trips aided by this psychadelic plant.
After some shopping and coffee, the rain has chased us back to the hotel to finish packing, shower, and prepare for our last real night in Cusco (I may be trying the local specialty, cuy, or guinea pig if it´s available wherever we go).
We are getting picked up by the trekking company at 5:20 tomorrow and don´t return to Cusco until Saturday night at 10:30, which is followed by a flight the next morning to Lima, so it will be a while until I write again. Wish us luck!
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Cusco:Day 1
Slowly, we wended through the narrow streets of Cusco. Right now I can´t upload photos, but I am extremely impressed with the drivers in this city making such tight turns through the most narrow streets I have ever seen. I think Dad could probably lay down across the Street and touch the buildings on either side! We stopped for many photo ops along the way, because our B&B is set up higher on the hillside, and the view at different plazas on the way down is beyond words. My favorite thing from our walk down was seeing these two hillsides opposite the city. One on hill, you can read the inscription ¨Viva la Peru¨(Long live Peru) and on the other, there is the image of what I believe is a god from the Incan pantheon. It struck me as incredible that people went to such work to make these images visible from across the city, or I´m guessing, maybe even from an airplane. I would also like to know what is needed to maintain this!
We slowly made our way to the Plaza de las Armas (it seems like every city has a plaza by this name here, and it´s usually the principal gathering place, especially on a day like today. It´s Palm Sunday, and people were streaming out of the myriad churches in the área with beautiful handmade palm bouquets in hand. There were a few stands in the Street where you could see older women and children working together to créate the bouquets for the next mass.
By the point that Erin and I had arrived in the plaza, we were seriously in need of rest, food, and wáter. We walked into the first restaurant we came to, because we realized that in having similarly overachiever personalities, we probably won´t know our own limits with tolerating the altitude until we´ve already crossed to the wrong side. While nothing worse happened to me all day that feeling pressure in my head, some dizziness at times, or shortness of breath when going up a large hill, it´s an uncomfortable experience to have the mind willing and the flesh unable.
After a long and enjoyable pizza lunch, we were determined to get some choclo con queso, which is a corn cob smothered in sauce and accompanied by a hunk of cheese. We couldn´t find a vendor, but we found something possibly better- a chocolate museum! The cultivation of cacao happens in 10 of the departments (states) here, and so it's a fairly important industry. In the museum, we were able to see the history of cacao cultivation (it started with the Mayans, was taken over by the Aztecs, and then Hernando Cortes brought it back to Spain. From there, the rest is history. Fun story about the name of chocolate: while the origin is unknown, one theory is that the Aztec word for it was cacahuatl, or caca for short. However, because caca is a word that the Spaniards did NOT want to associate with food, they changed it to Chocolate.
After Reading up on the beans of this delicious food, it was time to eat some. Erin and I each got a "make your own hot chocolate" and a "personal fondue". The fondue came with kebabs of fruit balancing over an individualized ladle of chocolate and was delicious (especially the banana). Making my own chocolate was a fun experience: you begin by putting a very think and semi-bitter chocolate paste in the bottom of your cup, then adding other spices and flavorings (I tried a cinnmon and clove versión as well as the chili pepper and honey versión which is how it was originally consumed in the Americas). After these ingredients are in the cup, you have your stirring spoon in one hand and the heated milk in the other, and you slowly pour in the milk as you stir it into the chocolate. Amazing!
We decided to start walking home. Unfortunately, the most direct route for us was straight up a hill. While we felt greatly improved from 3 hours before, but we knew that the hill would be tough. Fortunately, the way home was lined with shops as well as artists selling their goods. I may have bought the best hat in the word, and I am NOT a hat person. The good news from the climb was that even on the longer stretches that were steeper or full of stairs, we were able to do it with much less discomfort than earlier.
After a nap, some Gabriel Garcia Marquez Reading, and a much-needed shower, we went to a local restaurant called Pacha Papa (Earth Father in Incan- mother and father nature were much revered by the people). Both Erin and I decided to try the chicharrones. When the name of another meat (like chicken) doesn´t follow the word Chicharron, you know it´s friend pork pieces- crackling. Well, I had no idea what crackling was, but I was hellbent on trying what is said to be a Cusco specialty. I´m glad I tried it, but I probably wouldn´t again. There were three pieces of chicharron, and between the bone and the fat it was hard to find meat. Now, the fat is supposed to be eaten, but sometimes you come across a piece you can´t chew, and where do you go from there? It was served with 3-4 pieces of fried sweet potato (basically like sweet potato chips, mm), an onion salad which did go well with the pork, and Chulpi corn. This is the corn of the región (HUGE kernels), and it is then roasted until hard and crunchy. It was almost like eating popcorn kernels, only they don´t get stuck in your teeth.
Food done, we ended up moving tables and sitting with two guys from New York who had also just gotten into Cusco for the day. We spent maybe an hour hanging out with them, exchanging Peruvian and other international experiences, and then headed home. It was such a fun experience for me because our other accommodation in Lima was a hotel with no socializing between strangers, and while there are people in and our of our B&B, people do not seem particularly inclined to sit and talk. That was far away my favorite thing about Colombia, the discovery of how hostel life can introduce you to so many new and wonderful people, who themselves lead you on to great experiences. I have the feeling that we might get to have this experience with our trek group; it seems almost imposible to me that we will be hiking, camping, and finally arriving at a sacred space together and remain aloof.
Erin and I returned to our place around 11 PM, had a philosophical discussion on healthcare, financial literacy, and personal motivation before falling asleep. I slept well and woke up around 5:45. The Cusco horizons were royal blue and getting lighter by the minute, so I grabbed my camera and stood on our tiny balcony. While the rooftops obscured the sunrise, I was able to watch the lights in the hillside shacks slowly winking out as people got up for the day. Cusquenos were already up and moving in my neighborhood and passed shuffling under my perch, yawning and looking as though a few more hours of sleep would be the greatest boon in life.
Erin is still sleeping, so I came to write this, and instead made a new friend. His name is Jon and he the night shift three days a week at the hostel while he is also studying to be a pharmacist. We discussed Cusco, the US, special education and people with disabilites, and somehow I can never avoid these conversations, but God. Latin America is a fairly Catholic place, and people always seem a bit surprised when I confess my lack of affiliation to anything greater than my own personal truth: people should do right by each other. However, since Latin America is also a place where kindness seems inherent, the idea of treating others with graciousness falls well on ears here. Something regarding my own beliefs: I read that cultivating a sense of gratitude can improve their lives greatly. When I think on the things that I am greatful for, I don´t say out loud: I am grateful for my family, my job, my apartment, this trip, whatever. It´s an internal expression of thanks- I think ¨thank you for...¨. Who am I saying thanks to, whence comes this subconscious sense of relationship to another power? Just a thought.
We slowly made our way to the Plaza de las Armas (it seems like every city has a plaza by this name here, and it´s usually the principal gathering place, especially on a day like today. It´s Palm Sunday, and people were streaming out of the myriad churches in the área with beautiful handmade palm bouquets in hand. There were a few stands in the Street where you could see older women and children working together to créate the bouquets for the next mass.
By the point that Erin and I had arrived in the plaza, we were seriously in need of rest, food, and wáter. We walked into the first restaurant we came to, because we realized that in having similarly overachiever personalities, we probably won´t know our own limits with tolerating the altitude until we´ve already crossed to the wrong side. While nothing worse happened to me all day that feeling pressure in my head, some dizziness at times, or shortness of breath when going up a large hill, it´s an uncomfortable experience to have the mind willing and the flesh unable.
After a long and enjoyable pizza lunch, we were determined to get some choclo con queso, which is a corn cob smothered in sauce and accompanied by a hunk of cheese. We couldn´t find a vendor, but we found something possibly better- a chocolate museum! The cultivation of cacao happens in 10 of the departments (states) here, and so it's a fairly important industry. In the museum, we were able to see the history of cacao cultivation (it started with the Mayans, was taken over by the Aztecs, and then Hernando Cortes brought it back to Spain. From there, the rest is history. Fun story about the name of chocolate: while the origin is unknown, one theory is that the Aztec word for it was cacahuatl, or caca for short. However, because caca is a word that the Spaniards did NOT want to associate with food, they changed it to Chocolate.
After Reading up on the beans of this delicious food, it was time to eat some. Erin and I each got a "make your own hot chocolate" and a "personal fondue". The fondue came with kebabs of fruit balancing over an individualized ladle of chocolate and was delicious (especially the banana). Making my own chocolate was a fun experience: you begin by putting a very think and semi-bitter chocolate paste in the bottom of your cup, then adding other spices and flavorings (I tried a cinnmon and clove versión as well as the chili pepper and honey versión which is how it was originally consumed in the Americas). After these ingredients are in the cup, you have your stirring spoon in one hand and the heated milk in the other, and you slowly pour in the milk as you stir it into the chocolate. Amazing!
We decided to start walking home. Unfortunately, the most direct route for us was straight up a hill. While we felt greatly improved from 3 hours before, but we knew that the hill would be tough. Fortunately, the way home was lined with shops as well as artists selling their goods. I may have bought the best hat in the word, and I am NOT a hat person. The good news from the climb was that even on the longer stretches that were steeper or full of stairs, we were able to do it with much less discomfort than earlier.
After a nap, some Gabriel Garcia Marquez Reading, and a much-needed shower, we went to a local restaurant called Pacha Papa (Earth Father in Incan- mother and father nature were much revered by the people). Both Erin and I decided to try the chicharrones. When the name of another meat (like chicken) doesn´t follow the word Chicharron, you know it´s friend pork pieces- crackling. Well, I had no idea what crackling was, but I was hellbent on trying what is said to be a Cusco specialty. I´m glad I tried it, but I probably wouldn´t again. There were three pieces of chicharron, and between the bone and the fat it was hard to find meat. Now, the fat is supposed to be eaten, but sometimes you come across a piece you can´t chew, and where do you go from there? It was served with 3-4 pieces of fried sweet potato (basically like sweet potato chips, mm), an onion salad which did go well with the pork, and Chulpi corn. This is the corn of the región (HUGE kernels), and it is then roasted until hard and crunchy. It was almost like eating popcorn kernels, only they don´t get stuck in your teeth.
Food done, we ended up moving tables and sitting with two guys from New York who had also just gotten into Cusco for the day. We spent maybe an hour hanging out with them, exchanging Peruvian and other international experiences, and then headed home. It was such a fun experience for me because our other accommodation in Lima was a hotel with no socializing between strangers, and while there are people in and our of our B&B, people do not seem particularly inclined to sit and talk. That was far away my favorite thing about Colombia, the discovery of how hostel life can introduce you to so many new and wonderful people, who themselves lead you on to great experiences. I have the feeling that we might get to have this experience with our trek group; it seems almost imposible to me that we will be hiking, camping, and finally arriving at a sacred space together and remain aloof.
Erin and I returned to our place around 11 PM, had a philosophical discussion on healthcare, financial literacy, and personal motivation before falling asleep. I slept well and woke up around 5:45. The Cusco horizons were royal blue and getting lighter by the minute, so I grabbed my camera and stood on our tiny balcony. While the rooftops obscured the sunrise, I was able to watch the lights in the hillside shacks slowly winking out as people got up for the day. Cusquenos were already up and moving in my neighborhood and passed shuffling under my perch, yawning and looking as though a few more hours of sleep would be the greatest boon in life.
Erin is still sleeping, so I came to write this, and instead made a new friend. His name is Jon and he the night shift three days a week at the hostel while he is also studying to be a pharmacist. We discussed Cusco, the US, special education and people with disabilites, and somehow I can never avoid these conversations, but God. Latin America is a fairly Catholic place, and people always seem a bit surprised when I confess my lack of affiliation to anything greater than my own personal truth: people should do right by each other. However, since Latin America is also a place where kindness seems inherent, the idea of treating others with graciousness falls well on ears here. Something regarding my own beliefs: I read that cultivating a sense of gratitude can improve their lives greatly. When I think on the things that I am greatful for, I don´t say out loud: I am grateful for my family, my job, my apartment, this trip, whatever. It´s an internal expression of thanks- I think ¨thank you for...¨. Who am I saying thanks to, whence comes this subconscious sense of relationship to another power? Just a thought.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Lima to Cusco
Hi everyone,
To cap our wonderful first day in Lima, we went out for dinner to a local restaurant blasting a diverse array of music from Aventura to Metallica. After chicharrones de pollo (a tasty fried version of chicken fingers) and a chilcano de pisco (pisco with grapefruit and lime), we decided to try a piece of the pastra known as Turron de Dona Juana. It looks like layered graham crackers swimming in caramel or syrup and topped with colorful sugar candy, and has some sort of religious affiliation. I'm glad I tried it, but the simultaneously sticky and dry pastry will not be repeated in my Peru diet. Popping our heads out the door for a last look at the plaza after dark (still totally full of people), we heard the strains of 'Billy Jean' and went to investigate. Sure enough, a street performer was honoring the King of Pop with a spot-on rendition of the moonwalk. I would contest that it was Michael Jackson himself, as even the voice crooning to the crowd in an appeal for applause was accurate.
A fascinating cab driver to the airport this morning helped me piece together more information about the political history of Peru. I'd been Reading parts of Alma Guillermoprieto´s compilation of articles about Latin America. Her two essays on Peru talked about Fujimori and his shock doctrine of raising prices to lower demand and thus cut inflation (this was a University of Chicago idea, thanks Milton Friedman and his cronies, and has never really worked in Latin America, yet somehow those "gentlemen" thought it was a great idea to instate all over the continent). Pardon the rant. Anyway, I figured since the taxista was an older man, he might be able to give me his opinions onf Fujimori. He told me something interesting, that while he did not vote for the man and was not a "Fujimorista", he thought it was arguable that for his first five years in office, he could be considered the best modern president of the country. The cabbie, Jorge, felt this because Fujimori had instated order where none had previously been present- prior to his election thousands and thousands of people were dying because of what Jorge called internal terrorism and scuffs between paramilitary groups. So Fujimori helped restore order and security, plus tried to get rid of corruption. According to Jorge, after 5 years a scandal broke out where Peru,s Minister of Finance was embezzling money from the country; between 200-300 million dollares left the country under his watch. The scandal, and blow to Fujimori´s long-term popularity, was that although he knew about this egregious corruption, he did nothing to stop it. Boo on him.
Our flight to Cusco was brief and pleasant (I finished 7 lessons worth of planning for a weekly guided Reading group that I run, so I felt very productive). Getting off the plane was a little bit shocking- both of us immediately felt our hearts beating faster, it was easier to become short of breath, and there was a new sense of dizziness and pressure in our head. Let´s talk altitude:
So you can see that we have doubled our previous altitude, which should be a fun new challenge. On the plus side, when we were in Brighton for Sara's wedding, the base altitude was 8755 ft, and at that altitude as well, you needed an extra breath after climbing one flight of stairs. Also at Sara´s wedding, we hiked near to the top of the mountain as part of frisbee golf, and the elevation there was 10750. I´m just looking up this information now, and I´m pleasantly surprised to see that I´ve already hiked in similar elevations without issue. Yay! I do have to say, when we got out of the taxi and I had to walk (granted, with my entire backpacker bag) up about 7 stairs and then a slightly inclined street, it made me huff and puff a bit. We were welcomed to our hostel with some traditional coca tea. This is tea steeped from the leaves of the coca plant (same plant from which cocaine and basuco, a street drug, are derived. It does not cause the same effects as the drug, and instead actually aids in combating the altitude (helps with headaches and nausea). Right now we are sitting and waiting for our room, then we´re off to explore and see how many blocks we can walk without losing our breath!
To cap our wonderful first day in Lima, we went out for dinner to a local restaurant blasting a diverse array of music from Aventura to Metallica. After chicharrones de pollo (a tasty fried version of chicken fingers) and a chilcano de pisco (pisco with grapefruit and lime), we decided to try a piece of the pastra known as Turron de Dona Juana. It looks like layered graham crackers swimming in caramel or syrup and topped with colorful sugar candy, and has some sort of religious affiliation. I'm glad I tried it, but the simultaneously sticky and dry pastry will not be repeated in my Peru diet. Popping our heads out the door for a last look at the plaza after dark (still totally full of people), we heard the strains of 'Billy Jean' and went to investigate. Sure enough, a street performer was honoring the King of Pop with a spot-on rendition of the moonwalk. I would contest that it was Michael Jackson himself, as even the voice crooning to the crowd in an appeal for applause was accurate.
A fascinating cab driver to the airport this morning helped me piece together more information about the political history of Peru. I'd been Reading parts of Alma Guillermoprieto´s compilation of articles about Latin America. Her two essays on Peru talked about Fujimori and his shock doctrine of raising prices to lower demand and thus cut inflation (this was a University of Chicago idea, thanks Milton Friedman and his cronies, and has never really worked in Latin America, yet somehow those "gentlemen" thought it was a great idea to instate all over the continent). Pardon the rant. Anyway, I figured since the taxista was an older man, he might be able to give me his opinions onf Fujimori. He told me something interesting, that while he did not vote for the man and was not a "Fujimorista", he thought it was arguable that for his first five years in office, he could be considered the best modern president of the country. The cabbie, Jorge, felt this because Fujimori had instated order where none had previously been present- prior to his election thousands and thousands of people were dying because of what Jorge called internal terrorism and scuffs between paramilitary groups. So Fujimori helped restore order and security, plus tried to get rid of corruption. According to Jorge, after 5 years a scandal broke out where Peru,s Minister of Finance was embezzling money from the country; between 200-300 million dollares left the country under his watch. The scandal, and blow to Fujimori´s long-term popularity, was that although he knew about this egregious corruption, he did nothing to stop it. Boo on him.
Our flight to Cusco was brief and pleasant (I finished 7 lessons worth of planning for a weekly guided Reading group that I run, so I felt very productive). Getting off the plane was a little bit shocking- both of us immediately felt our hearts beating faster, it was easier to become short of breath, and there was a new sense of dizziness and pressure in our head. Let´s talk altitude:
| Lima | 5080 | 1550 |
| Cusco | 10800 | 3300 |
| Ollantaytambo | 9150 | 2790 |
| Machu Picchu | 8040 | 2450 |
So you can see that we have doubled our previous altitude, which should be a fun new challenge. On the plus side, when we were in Brighton for Sara's wedding, the base altitude was 8755 ft, and at that altitude as well, you needed an extra breath after climbing one flight of stairs. Also at Sara´s wedding, we hiked near to the top of the mountain as part of frisbee golf, and the elevation there was 10750. I´m just looking up this information now, and I´m pleasantly surprised to see that I´ve already hiked in similar elevations without issue. Yay! I do have to say, when we got out of the taxi and I had to walk (granted, with my entire backpacker bag) up about 7 stairs and then a slightly inclined street, it made me huff and puff a bit. We were welcomed to our hostel with some traditional coca tea. This is tea steeped from the leaves of the coca plant (same plant from which cocaine and basuco, a street drug, are derived. It does not cause the same effects as the drug, and instead actually aids in combating the altitude (helps with headaches and nausea). Right now we are sitting and waiting for our room, then we´re off to explore and see how many blocks we can walk without losing our breath!
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