So I just got back from a really great travel week, and once I collect my things and get my act together (possibly this afternoon) I will be posting pictures. I finally received my first sun burn and it took a whopping three weeks! But then again the beach can do that to even the most careful of sensitive skinned souls. I travelled with two other people from the TEFL class and we went down to Puno, on the coast of Lake Titicaca for a night, moved across the Lake to stop at three interesting island spots: the floating islands (islas flotanas/Uros islands), Isla Amantaní, and Isla Taquile. It was quite an adventure and a sickening hike up so many stairs that I´m not sure I could do again. I think someone said Taquile had 500 steps to the peak, and you have to climb up all of those to make it over into the city. That was less painful than Amantaní, but the view from the top of Amantaní totally made the panting and breaks worth every exhaled curse and desire to give up. The floating islands (also known as the Uros because that is the name of the people who inhabit them, however according to Lonely Planet the last pure blood Uros woman died in the 50s or 60s) were interesting, yet out of 45-ish, only 3 are excessible to the public, and it´s because they were made to allow tourists to stop and enjoy the beauty of the culture. It felt like a huge cave-in to tourism, not that I´m not thankful to have been included into such a different culture than my own...but it´s easy to critique someone´s life choices when they don´t meet my approval of ¨natural.¨ But moving on to the construction of these islands: they connect these squares of dirt with root structures to contain the dirt by sticking sticks in the squares and then tying the squares together with nylon fiber. Then they pile on this reed so it´s four feet thick and so much fun to run barefoot across, I wonder if the tourists took as many pictures of the crazy barefoot white woman running around the island as they did of the islanders selling textiles and ceramic jewelry. This guy from the small island showed us in a demonstration that I took a picture of so if there was any confusion caused by my description, do not worry the picture explains it all. There were about five houses on the island, and they built the one we were able to stop on seven years ago. I´m not sure if we were told how long one island lasts, but I think seven years for all that weight to be living on a bunch of dirt is pretty incredible.
My favorite part was the view from the boat ride. You can see across to the Bolivian side, and the peaks in the very far distance look like a mirage inbetween the water and the clouds. It´s just amazing that a) a lake can be that effing huge in the middle of the Andes, and b) you can see all the land surrounding it when you are close to the middle. According to my wikipedia sources, the maximum length=190 km (118 mi) and the maximum width=80 km (50 mi). It took us four hours to reach Isla Amantaní from Puno but each day there were stops, so it was dizzying turning around to catch every angle of land from the Lake because it was all so different. At one peninsula that I couldn´t pronounce or try to spell, the land was terraced at a diagonal into the water from the ridge and it looked like the trees grow at a slant to accommodate the earth. I don´t think I captured that on film, oops...too mesmorized to act.
We spent the night in a small home on Amantaní with two girls from the Netherlands, and they were a lot of fun. We all hiked up to the top of the island to see PachaTata ruins and on the way back down there was a bunch of local teenagers/young adults and they were in a circle playing volleyball and they made space for us, it was by far the most fun I've had playing volleyball, but thanks to the altitude my energy was short and I had to stop after 30 minutes or so because it was getting really cold and I was winded. After returning back to our rooms there was a "late night" of card games and drinking by candlelight. We were all in bed and asleep by 8:30.
A moment of truth: I could not imagine living a life without things like meat, electricity or the extremes like drugs, promiscuous sex and alcohol. Just putting that out there: this life is intense and thanks the conveniences of my American life there is no way I would give up sleeping in, going out, using the internet and listening to my itunes or even just enjoying park sitting and people watching. I don't see fitting into a patriarchal small community society. That having been said, it was an awesome experience and a really good time eating potatoes, rice and cheese with herbal teas consisting of putting leaves into hot water and playing card games in the dark with only candlelight. However I was not our housemaid, Sonya, who was up at 5 AM making breakfast and completing the daily chores. It was also just as painful climbing down the street to the port as it was climbing up. There is this awesome zigzag move Sonya showed us that really helped relieve the stress on my knees, you just walk down the path, but take steps walking from end to the next, this way takes a little bit longer, but totally worth it.
The boat ride back to Puno was long, and I definitely got sunburnt on my lips, but did good to protect the rest of my body, it wasn't easy though, as the best spot on the boat was right in the sun. I read "Memories of my Melancholy Whores" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, which was a great quick read of a love story. True to form I teared up on the last pages.
After running to the bus station once hitting Puno, we hopped one uncomfortable bus to Arequipa, it is important to ask about shocks...too bad I don't know how to say that in Spanish, nor could I call out a lie... But good golly, do I need to learn. Anyway, it was fun. We stopped in some nasty smelling town for thirty minutes and laughed at the bus driver yelling for Arequipa like a auctioneer and no one new was getting on the bus, only locals selling jello in a cup (that's big here...hmm.) or this kind of popcorn that's just massive kernels.
I do not think I can describe the love for plastic bags Peruvans have. I am in a karmic regression for all the hassle I caused back home, plastic is god. I now know this. I apologize for any mistakes I have made in the past in reference to this reverence. I ordered takeout one night and was given soup in a plastic bag. Do i need to repeat? They even threw my chicken and french fries into a plastic bag, and then put all this various condiments into separate plastic bags and handed me one large plastic bag to contain all of my little plastic bags. It's fascinating.
But going back to my experience from the past week: After we finally got back on the road it was an all day bus ride: about 6 hours to get from Puno to Arequipa, so around 10 PM we arrived to the bus station and went straight to a hostel from Lonely Planet. This has been the one time I've held appreciation for Lonely Planet, the hostel was pretty awesome. Our room was a cave, tomb, black hole, so perfect. When looking at the ceiling it was unanimously agreed that the random hook hanging from the center could be for a chandelier, yet was freakishly creepy on its own. And the cracks in the dome ceiling that had been plaster fixed were equally alarming. All of the buildings it seemed like had dome ceilings and were made of this volcanic rock, sillar, which made for cool temperatures and comfortable colonial atmospheres. I did feel like Cuba must be like Arequipa, there was just that kind of comfort and relaxation about the architecture and the landscaping in the Plazas. This monastery we spent three hours in, Santa Catalina, was so incredible, but a really great example of the architecture. The place was enormous, and our handout map called the monastery a city, a citadel, etc... There were street names! We did have a fun mischievous moment when we climbed through one of the windows into a blocked off area that was a garden. It was very pretty however this family somewhere near us was making a lot of noise and for fear of getting busted, our galavanting was cut short.
After not waking up on time the next morning due to late night partying, and also due to the cloudiness we did not do the plans we had for scenic viewing of El Misti, the volcano close to Arequipa. It worked out okay, instead we walked around looking at the colonial hacienda houses, which were a bit of a letdown. Not at all like the mansions from Cochabamba, Bolivia. But oh well, it was still fun walking around town. The street names in Arequipa change every other block, and I could not for the life of me get my bearings so it was fun wandering like a tourist, sticking out like a guilty pleasure in the crowd, referencing the Lonely Planet. We did make it to the Market, which was pretty incredible! They were selling two different sizes of guinea pigs the larger ones were tan and white and they were for eatin', the smaller ones were all black and were for "sustado" or something like that. There were three different women trying to explain what that was and why there was a difference, but I'm not sure what any of them were saying. Also, it has been decided that unless I am eating out, there will be no cooking of meat while here in Cusco... The butcher section of the market is so terrifying, not to mention nothing is refrigerated, I'm not sure I can push my luck as far as not aggravating my parasites yet. OH! Another gem: I've learned what happens with the nasty illnesses: parasites sleep comfy in your intestines in these cozy little sacs that grow, and then one day, when your digestive juices change pH balance or whatever, and wake up the sleepy parasites, they go ape shit and take it out on you by causing painful explosions out of whichever orifice they please. It's quite fascinating.
From Arequipa we took a quick vacation for the weekend to Mollendo, which is like the Myrtle Beach of Peru. We were the only non Peruvian people there Friday night and Saturday afternoon. It was pretty awesome. There wasn't much to do, but we walked around the beach, and took pictures of the sunset and starving finally found a place that was within our price range. The bus ride to this beach, crossing the desert of Peru, was something to behold. There are these random hut communities established in the middle of nothing, and there is little signs of life, but you have to stop and wrap your brain around how the hell someone can survive when you can tell by the housing structures they are dirt poor. It was just mesmerizing and sick at the same time. This is were I got my ass handed to me in a burnt up blaze of pain. It was cloudy, and we were at sea level, so I thought why layer on the sunblock? HA! I felt the pain today carrying all of my luggage, having seven bags strapped across my shoulders, it was more crippling than climbing up Avenida el Sol without water after only being here two days. I surpass the red of a lobster, streaked from my halter top and purse strap, it's something of the obscene.
I need a break, it's been to many hours with this laptop and a couch... Plus I still have to finish my portfolio...hehe, but hey, I GOT THE JOB! Training starts tomorrow, and I move into my apartment tomorrow as well. That's a whole other awesome post in itself, so I'll save that for later.
LOVE! heather.
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