Saturday, January 31, 2009

JANUARY

The Move:

I believe that I had partially convinced myself that I would never actually change houses. However, in the first week of January, I finally did. With much help from Susan, I moved my things down the street to my new house. We walked all of my things from one house to the other, even my denser-than-lead mattress.

Everything went smoother than I had imagined it would. I was worried that the entire town would emerge to watch me move but the town was silent. Even the gossip I feared seems to have been held at bay. Having to, once again, tell the moto-taxi drivers where I live has really been the biggest nuisance. Not once have I regretted moving. My new family--a young family of four--probably talked to me more in the first day than my old host-family talked to me in an entire year.

The Vacation:

lima:
After more than a year my sister came to visit me from the States. I went to pick her up at the airport in Lima on Sunday night. Waiting at the airport in Lima is different than waiting at an airport in the States. A large crowd of anxious relatives mixed with hotel and tourist agency representatvies huddle around the exit waiting for flights to arrive. The hotel and tourist reps are all waving around signs on sticks with the names of the tourists they have come to collect. The awaiting family members exuberantly rush to meet loved ones who often now reside in another country.

My sister was taller than I remembered which might have had something to do with the new straight-leg jeans she was sporting. I regretted not having made one of those signs on a stick to grab her attention. She would have appreciated the humor.

The next day we went to visit my Lima host-family. On the way there, Kelly, unlike most tourists, actually saw the vast impoverished urban sprawl which comprises most of Lima. The visit was wonderful as always. Kelly was subjected to a viewing of the infinitely long and horribly edited video of the Santiago festival that I attended in July, the same video my parents got to watch. She also got to go on her first moto-taxi ride.

It was interesting to see how my Lima family has changed since they hosted me, especially since they have since hosted two other trainees. One notable difference is a marked improvement of the pronunciation of their dog's name, Snow. It actually sounds like English now. Also, my host-mom, who used to fret and think I was crazy for running all the time, told us, in all seriousness, how she had tried, in vain, to convince the last two trainees that they needed to excercise.

I managed to leave my footprint in the newly poured concrete step in front of the house. I don't know how I didn't realize that I was supposed to step over it. My host-sister, Rosa, stopped before going over it and asked me to go first because she wasn't sure how to avoid the step. I, oblivious, didn't understand why she was so perplexed and stepped directly onto the wet concrete. A few minutes later, my host-Dad came in chuckling and said that it was just like the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

For dinner we had the traditional holiday meal of hot chocolate and panettone. Kelly made me look a little less stupid by biting directly into the paper wrapper of the panettone.

arequipa:
The next morning at 4:00 AM we had to go to the airport for our flight to Arequipa, a one hour flight which costs nearly the same price as the 14 hour bus ride. Stepping off the plane was the prefect antidote for sleep deprivation--snow capped mountains, crisp air and the early morning sun.

Arequipa is one of the southernmost provinces of Perú. The capitol city, also named Arequipa, is an impressive city, with abundant colonial architecture. It bears the nickname the "White City" due to old proclivity for building with the white volcanic stone common to the area. Arequipa houses numerous churches and monasteries. On our first afternoon in the city we visited the Monasterio de Santa Catalina, a rambling old convent which occupies an entire city block. We didn't leave without trying some of the famous desserts prepared by the current nuns.

Not one to mess around or to allow time for relaxing when on vacation, I scheduled a bus trip to Colca Canyon for 7 AM the next morning. Sometime before the end of her first 48 hours in Perú, Kelly became convinced that it was actually her 3rd day in country.

The bus ride to the canyon was a trip in itself. Much of the route passed through the Reserva Nacional Salinas y Aguada Blanca, an austere altiplano reserve which is home to vicuñas, llamas and alpacas. At its highest point the road reaches an elevation of 4800 meters.

We arrived at our destination, Chivay, a small town at the mouth of the canyon, mid-morning. After breakfast, we walked to some local hot springs. Somehow we ended up in the pool with all the other tourists. Roughly four guides attempted to get us back on their tour bus before they left, as they were convinced that we must have been on their tour. Either way is was very relaxing.

The following day we visited La Cruz del Cóndor, a short but picturesque busride away from Chivay. La Cruz is now a popular tourist stop on the Gringo Trail due to the Condor family which resides in that particular section of Colca Canyon. The Andean Condor is considered by many to be the world's largest flying bird, with a wingspan reaching up to 3 meters. Nonetheless, it may come in second to the Wandering Albatross. Kelly and I waited long enough to see the condors pass within several meters. The closest condor to pass us I actually watched through binoculars. The view clearly would have been better without them but I was too dense to figure that out. Rather I got a very good look at a blurred mass of black feathers. Binocular use has never been my forte.

Colca canyon provides a beautiful backdrop to the family of condors. At a depth of 3191 meters, Colca canyon is the second deepest known canyon in the world. The deepest known canyon, el Cañon del Cotahuasi, is actually also located in Arequipa, several hours to the north.

Our last day in Chivay we walked a little over an hour through the valley to the neighboring village of Corporaque. It was a beautiful walk through the bucolic countryside of the sierra, passed fields and terracing. The town itself was nestled among hills with a sweeping view of the valley and a tranquil plaza.

After another day in Arequipa, which we primarily devoted to walking around, we flew back to Lima. Being back in Miraflores was bizarre as always; it doesn't really fit with the rest of Perú with its fancy beachfront highrises and hotels. Kelly was a little sick which probably resulted from the fact that I encouraged her to eat salad and street food. I've clearly been here too long.

huaca rivera:
At the combi stop for Pacora in Chiclayo, we were greeted by the driver with, "So, you're headed back into the war zone...there's gonna be blood." Indeed, I took my sister back to my site on the eve of the removal of an invasion of people from a section of the Bosque de Pomac. Called a desalojo, or eviction, it was a government action to recuperate close to 1200 HA of the dry forest reserve which also houses archeological remains. The situation was rather complicated because around 200 families were implicated and, of those, some had lived there for 9 years. The government itself funded the construction of a health post and a school. And, in a country basically comprised of invasions it's difficult to pick and chose who to evict.

Anyway, nearly 2000 police came into the area for the desalojo. In the end, the "invaders" were heavily armed and 3 policemen were killed. Everyone in my site, was clearly preoccupied with the daily events. I decided against taking my sister for a walk in the woods. On the third day of the desalojo, my P.C. boss called to ask if I had heard what was going on, as if the people in my town would be completely oblivious, and told me that I should probably be careful.

Another visitor from the U.S., Susan Abraham, arrived in Pacora on Wednesday morning. Within an hour of her arrival she was serrenaded by the gerente of the municipality, aka Loco Sapote. We also went to visit the 83 year old store owner, whose birthday party I went to awhile back. As the mid-year festival of San Pablo was coming up, nearly the entire plaza was surrounded by restaurant booths and stands. Nonetheless, in front of our friend's store, there was, indeed, a 3 meter empty space, which she informed us that she had purchased in order to be able to watch the action uninhibited. She actually seemed annoyed that they would even consider blocking her view.

Susan and Kelly both adapted wonderfully to my site--except for a few issues with the outhouse and hard mattresses. They, both vegetarians, even ate fish. We played soccer a couple of times with the girls and transplanted some seedling in the tree nursery. My little host-brother, Patito, grew quite attached to them within the first day. By the time they left they were sad to go.

Since my sister is studying in Ecuador during the upcoming semester, her and Susan had to head north to Quito. I took them as far as Mancora, a popular beach in Piura. Amazingly, it was even hotter there than my site. We taught Susan how to dive under waves rather than simply being destroyed by them. However, while unsupervised she chose to practice in about one foot of water and ended up diving directly into the sand, scraping her forehead and smashing her nose in the process.