Cusco, Peru
Learn spanish. An ambitious goal, it takes many years to master the language, I give myself four months. I decided after wondering around Peru with essentially no knowledge of the language to take a class. I did a bit of leg work and found this spanish school located in a private residence that only gives one on one lessons. Sick.
For the past four days I´ve been taking spanish for four hours a day. It is a bit tiring. Other then that all I´ve been doing for the past week is walking around and seeing the sights and musems. It is shocking how bad the musems are considering that tourism is Cusco´s biggest moneymaker. I know that its a developing country, but one would think they would have unbelievable Inkin relics or a through explanation of things. All the musems do are show some pottery and a few mummies and put it all in chronological order. And then have local artisans hock their wares by the exit. Anyway.
Languages. I am surprised how much french I remember from Essex High. When ever I don´t know a spanish word somehow the french one comes to mind. This is a bizzare phenomenon. Because there is no way just sitting I could recall any french outside the standard, hello and goodbye. In class, I will say the french word with confidence and an added "o" at the end. Patty (the teacher), then starts to giggle and accuses me of speaking french. She then says the spanish word and I repeat it back. Its pretty basic and fun, but an effective way to learn the language. Above all else, I am gaining confidence speaking in a spanish accent.
Patty might be my only friend in this city, as all the ones from the Inka Trail have left. It really is a relationship based on laughter, which happens most of the time. Its really nice that her english is not too good so for the most part we are conversing in spanish. Occasionally, I start to yawn and then she brings me cafe con leche. And of course the coffee is instant.
The cultural differences that come up are crazy and I feel like a young traveler again. It is easy to remember that there are multiple definitions of all things in the US (thank you Wesleyan.) But, I forgot how many things have completely different definitions, and take on entirely different meanings in other parts of the world. Patty couldn´t get over that my brother was a "housewife." But, I guess I can´t either. Also, she placed a great importance on color of skin. ummm...
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Peru´s Greatest Export: Machu Picchu
Maggie Mcconnell tells me that Peru´s greatest export is tourism. And that Machu Picchu is the most important attraction. Before knowing all this, I knew that I would see it, we all have. It looks just like the pictures (like most things that we see thousands of times in our lives) and like those things (i.e. the Mona Lisa, the Taj Mahal, the Guinness Brewery) it is breath taking.
To see Machu Picchu one has three options, take a bus up to the ruins, do a 1 night/2 day hike, or 3 night/4 day hike. I opted for the 3 night/ four day hike. I had to go through an agency. My group was made up of a guide, a cook, 9 porters, 2 accountants, 2 POMS, 2 Aussies, and a German who had just been in the jungle and looked like he had a terrible case of chicken pox. The guide was a local man who knew english very well and was very proud of his Inka heritage and the Inka legacy. This was nice because it was not just merely a passing of information, the man was emotionally attached which made the information much more interesting.
The hike itself was very hard, one of the hardest I´ve ever done. I don´t know if thats because I had been sitting around since just before Thanksgiving or because of the altitude 12-14,000 feet or because I had a terrible case of LS for the majority of the hike. All of this is unclear. All I know is that I thought for the first time, ¨Wow, maybe my body can´t do this.¨ It was very alarming. I want to belong to a gym when I get home. I do not want to become an NA. I really can´t believe that so many chumps walk the Inka Trail.
There were 9 porters. That is nine men who carried all of the camping gear (we all had the option to have them carry our personal gear, some did, some didn´t, I didn´t, obvi.) And the gear wasn`t like stuff you would picture if you were to go backpacking today it was like we were car camping in the 80´s. These dudes were carrying propane tanks, canvas tents to have dinner under, chairs and tables, eggs, vino, all this excessive and uncessary stuff, it was insane. And to top is all off they just put it in plastic bags or wraped it in large blankets. And the straps they used to attach it to themselves were ropes or coiled blankets. And they only wore shitty sandels or psudeo low-top converse shoes. It was crazy. And they would run up the trail, you should have seen their calves. No water only coco leaves. Totally insane. One of the most impressive things I have seen in a long time.
The Andes are beautiful. Steep, steep mountains, cacti, sort of jungle like, and in the distance snow capped peaks. Nothing around. The weather changes quickly. Sort of endless. Crazy that there are so many ruins nestled into them. It was a place where more people lived 500 years ago then they do today. The guide said that there still is so much to be found/uncovered.
The reason Machu Picchu is so breath taking is because it is set in this space, high in the Andes. It seems impossible that folks could have made this with no modern technology. It is high in the sky. You stand there and look around and just say, ¨How did they do this?¨ The guide tried to explain but the ideas of its creation and how the people lived. I wanted him to answer all my questions, but after a while, I realized that its mystery was its real beauty. And to not know just compounds it so I left it at that. I just sat there and wondered about how it was built and why the people abandoned it.
To see Machu Picchu one has three options, take a bus up to the ruins, do a 1 night/2 day hike, or 3 night/4 day hike. I opted for the 3 night/ four day hike. I had to go through an agency. My group was made up of a guide, a cook, 9 porters, 2 accountants, 2 POMS, 2 Aussies, and a German who had just been in the jungle and looked like he had a terrible case of chicken pox. The guide was a local man who knew english very well and was very proud of his Inka heritage and the Inka legacy. This was nice because it was not just merely a passing of information, the man was emotionally attached which made the information much more interesting.
The hike itself was very hard, one of the hardest I´ve ever done. I don´t know if thats because I had been sitting around since just before Thanksgiving or because of the altitude 12-14,000 feet or because I had a terrible case of LS for the majority of the hike. All of this is unclear. All I know is that I thought for the first time, ¨Wow, maybe my body can´t do this.¨ It was very alarming. I want to belong to a gym when I get home. I do not want to become an NA. I really can´t believe that so many chumps walk the Inka Trail.
There were 9 porters. That is nine men who carried all of the camping gear (we all had the option to have them carry our personal gear, some did, some didn´t, I didn´t, obvi.) And the gear wasn`t like stuff you would picture if you were to go backpacking today it was like we were car camping in the 80´s. These dudes were carrying propane tanks, canvas tents to have dinner under, chairs and tables, eggs, vino, all this excessive and uncessary stuff, it was insane. And to top is all off they just put it in plastic bags or wraped it in large blankets. And the straps they used to attach it to themselves were ropes or coiled blankets. And they only wore shitty sandels or psudeo low-top converse shoes. It was crazy. And they would run up the trail, you should have seen their calves. No water only coco leaves. Totally insane. One of the most impressive things I have seen in a long time.
The Andes are beautiful. Steep, steep mountains, cacti, sort of jungle like, and in the distance snow capped peaks. Nothing around. The weather changes quickly. Sort of endless. Crazy that there are so many ruins nestled into them. It was a place where more people lived 500 years ago then they do today. The guide said that there still is so much to be found/uncovered.
The reason Machu Picchu is so breath taking is because it is set in this space, high in the Andes. It seems impossible that folks could have made this with no modern technology. It is high in the sky. You stand there and look around and just say, ¨How did they do this?¨ The guide tried to explain but the ideas of its creation and how the people lived. I wanted him to answer all my questions, but after a while, I realized that its mystery was its real beauty. And to not know just compounds it so I left it at that. I just sat there and wondered about how it was built and why the people abandoned it.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Cock Fights
Lima, Peru
Our homestay Grandma called and got a cab to take us to a Cock Fighting arena. Its a circular building whose sole purpose is to hold cock fights. You walk in and there is a dirt covered circle (the fighting area) with fencing, thankfully it was not your standard chicken wire but something with much bigger holes. Around two thirds of it were chairs, stadium style and the other third was tables with waitress service, this was also stadium style. Behind all of the seating there was a classic looking bar and a stage where some live Peruvian music was being played. Terrible neon lights lit the arena and there was a light mist falling on the dirt. Persumably to keep the dust down during the fights. Entrance fee was s/15 for men and s/10 for women. I guess its to encourage couples to head to the fights.
Ben Boudreaux and I entered, we were amoung the first to arrive. We immediatley got beers and sat and speculated on what was about to happen. It turns out we were at the season´s grand finale. The evening was to be filled with a round robin of the finest cocks. Eight cocks that would be whittled down to one. Each of these birds had won matches before/had already killed. It was to be the best of the best. The room starting filling up, mostly groups of men, some obvious couples, and a few families.
The first two cocks came out. They were held by men and covered in satin like fabric, imagine a boxer heading to the ring. The fluffers rubbed the birds and then took off there coverings to show male roosters lacking the typical characteristics of a male chicken. No feathers on head and no gobbler. After this the fluffers brought the cocks together and they sort of pecked each other and then retreated. From here each bird was brought to a corner where another man came on stage and tied a razor to the back of each cock´s left leg (to quicken the fight, I guess.) Then a man came and wiped down each of the razor blades ( for sanitary reasons, I imagine.)
As the fluffers continued to hold the birds, bookies came out and took bets. About fifteen small men wearing vests and shouting and pointing. We decided to make a bet to create a bit of emotional commitment to a bird. Ben decided on the bird he thought looked like a killer. There was not much difference here. He made eye contact with one guy and bet s/5.
We had a bird and the fight began. The fluffers brought the cocks together again to get them fired up and then a third man came in and put a metal sheet on the ground. On each side of the sheet was one cock. The fluffers left the fighting area and the man pulled out the metal sheet and left the arena. The cocks just sort of stood there awhile and the crowd started yelling, "Areeba! Areeba!" Finally, the birds started pecking each other and then there was jumping, and then some feathers flew. Then one of the cocks stopped moving, the crowd started cheering and the cock Ben had bet on had was proclaimed the winner.
The fluffers took the cocks out, both bleeding and one clearly dead. The man who Ben had placed his bet with came over and gave Ben s/38. As it turned out Ben had bet s/50 not s/5. We were victorious but a little sketched out. That was the last bet we made.
We stayed for a few more fights that were pretty much the same except sometimes the cocks just stopped fighting so the fluffers would come in and get them angry again so they would fight some more. It got a bit boring and the crowd got more intense the beer was flowing and the room was filling with smoke. We left after the first semi-final. It was enough cock fighting for one night/one trip/one lifetime.
Our homestay Grandma called and got a cab to take us to a Cock Fighting arena. Its a circular building whose sole purpose is to hold cock fights. You walk in and there is a dirt covered circle (the fighting area) with fencing, thankfully it was not your standard chicken wire but something with much bigger holes. Around two thirds of it were chairs, stadium style and the other third was tables with waitress service, this was also stadium style. Behind all of the seating there was a classic looking bar and a stage where some live Peruvian music was being played. Terrible neon lights lit the arena and there was a light mist falling on the dirt. Persumably to keep the dust down during the fights. Entrance fee was s/15 for men and s/10 for women. I guess its to encourage couples to head to the fights.
Ben Boudreaux and I entered, we were amoung the first to arrive. We immediatley got beers and sat and speculated on what was about to happen. It turns out we were at the season´s grand finale. The evening was to be filled with a round robin of the finest cocks. Eight cocks that would be whittled down to one. Each of these birds had won matches before/had already killed. It was to be the best of the best. The room starting filling up, mostly groups of men, some obvious couples, and a few families.
The first two cocks came out. They were held by men and covered in satin like fabric, imagine a boxer heading to the ring. The fluffers rubbed the birds and then took off there coverings to show male roosters lacking the typical characteristics of a male chicken. No feathers on head and no gobbler. After this the fluffers brought the cocks together and they sort of pecked each other and then retreated. From here each bird was brought to a corner where another man came on stage and tied a razor to the back of each cock´s left leg (to quicken the fight, I guess.) Then a man came and wiped down each of the razor blades ( for sanitary reasons, I imagine.)
As the fluffers continued to hold the birds, bookies came out and took bets. About fifteen small men wearing vests and shouting and pointing. We decided to make a bet to create a bit of emotional commitment to a bird. Ben decided on the bird he thought looked like a killer. There was not much difference here. He made eye contact with one guy and bet s/5.
We had a bird and the fight began. The fluffers brought the cocks together again to get them fired up and then a third man came in and put a metal sheet on the ground. On each side of the sheet was one cock. The fluffers left the fighting area and the man pulled out the metal sheet and left the arena. The cocks just sort of stood there awhile and the crowd started yelling, "Areeba! Areeba!" Finally, the birds started pecking each other and then there was jumping, and then some feathers flew. Then one of the cocks stopped moving, the crowd started cheering and the cock Ben had bet on had was proclaimed the winner.
The fluffers took the cocks out, both bleeding and one clearly dead. The man who Ben had placed his bet with came over and gave Ben s/38. As it turned out Ben had bet s/50 not s/5. We were victorious but a little sketched out. That was the last bet we made.
We stayed for a few more fights that were pretty much the same except sometimes the cocks just stopped fighting so the fluffers would come in and get them angry again so they would fight some more. It got a bit boring and the crowd got more intense the beer was flowing and the room was filling with smoke. We left after the first semi-final. It was enough cock fighting for one night/one trip/one lifetime.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
The First Few Days
I arrived in Lima on Monday night. The airport was standard fare for a developing nation. Sort of wild. There was a stomach high fence at the international terminal which held back families waiting for loved ones. The yelling, merriment, high energy were a bit much after traveling for 20 hours. It really shouldn{t take that long but I had a nice layover in Coasta Rica. Lima is huge and dirty but I{ve been staying in Mira Flores, a upper middleclass subarb on the Pacific. Heaps of tourists pass through here and I feel very safe. Last night I ate cow heart. It was on skewers and very good. It pretty much tasted like steak. Summer is in the air here, all kids are out of school and it is hot and sunny. Very refreshing from the Northeast. I am really feeling my lack of Spanish. I felt it at JFK when everyone in line and the people at the desk all spoke Spanish. I am moving in with this family that Maggie Mcconnell lived with when she first arrived. A homestay of sorts. I have yet to play soccer.
Monday, January 03, 2005
Gearing Up...
So. First entry. Currently in sweet, sweet, Essex, VT. Getting my things together for the trip. Leaving for Peru on the 10th. But first to New Jersey. Its nice to be home its weird that its 40degrees. Very excited. I've been trying to learn Spanish with some of those CDs but I just zone out. Hopefully, I won't zone out like that when I'm down there. Thats what happened in India. A lot of zoning and pretending that people weren't talking to me. I got a D in Hindi, who gets a D when they study abroad. This is holiday and about survival, I'm sure that I'll be fine. I mean I know how to play soccer thats all one really needs down there in Latin America.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)