Viaje a Iquitos y Pevas

If you've ever glanced at a Lonely Planet Peru book, then you know the archetypal image of Peruvian Culture, the catechrestic Andean Peasant Woman. She wears a lovely pollera or skirt, an old-fashioned hat, and two braids, her hair parted down the middle (which is COMPLICATED-- Galeano tells us in Open Veins of Latin America that the outfit, modeled after the dress of Spanish campesinos in Andalucia and the Basque State, was mandated at the end of the 18th century by Charles III... see page 47 if you have the 1997 edition in English). She is a dramatic and compelling figure, but she represents the Sierra, the central-south part of Peru. By far the largest department in the country is Loreto, the Selva or jungle, but the people who live there are often ignored both by their own government and, for better or for worse, by tourists.

Well, Rach and I have been living this year with our good friend Rosa, who is originally from Iquitos, the largest city in the Selva. As she's just finished a diploma in cultural development, we've often talked about her frustration with the lack of interest and funding for projects in the Selva. Rosa is about to head back home to spend several months working in collaboration with a group of community leaders from several towns in the Amazon Basin, the ministry of culture in Iquitos, and her employers at the Goethe Institute to discuss how to remember, value, and share cultural traditions from the region. It's a complicated project, replete with challenges specific to our old friend the nonprofit industrial complex. But, that's Rosa's story, not mine.

Suffice it to say that after talking to Rosa, I knew I wanted to visit the Selva before leaving Peru. So, Rachel and I flew to Iquitos (you can't take a bus-- it's not connected to any roads) and then took an overnight boat to Pevas, a small town just off of the Amazon River and between 6 hours and 4 days from the border with Colombia and Brazil, depending on which boat you take. There we met Rosa's soon-to-be-collaborator Santiago Yahuarcani. He, his wife Merelda, and their children welcomed us into their home and were incredible hosts for two days, showing us Pevas and a bit of the jungle, cooking delicious meals and teaching us how to make Yuca bread, and introducing us to Santiago's mother, who sang to us, sharing a bit in her native language, that of the Huitoto people. They were truly some of the most generous people I've ever met, and I'm not sure if there exists any adequate way to thank them. They're also all artists, and their home is full of their work: masks and paintings and artesania. If you're in Lima, look up their eldest son Rember Yahuarcani, who displays his work frequently here.

Then we took the fast boat up the Amazon and back to Iquitos, where we stayed with Rosa's parents, also incredibly generous and kind people. (As a side note, since I seem to have assigned myself the role of cultural promoter of all things Peruvian, both Rosa's parents and the Yahuarcani family said that they would be happy to host any friends of ours in the future, so let me know if you ever have a hankering to visit the Selva.) Iquitos is a busy city, full of mototaxistas hurtling down wide streets, ignoring any lanes that once existed. We tried aguaje ice cream, visited markets where vendors displayed baskets full of still-gasping-for-oxygen fish, sipped tragos of afrodisiacos (sweet, dark liquor), and even made a brief stop at a beach before a rainstorm forced us to duck for cover.

And all of that brings us back to Lima, where I'm now fighting off a cold, taking my last few Tai Chi classes with Ana and the circle of energy at Yuyachkani, and arranging last-minute gatherings with all of my friends here. Tomorrow is our fiesta de despedida for the whole house (minus Coqui and Pepinot, who stay, along with a whole host of German volunteers)-- Rosa's off to Iquitos, Rachel to Cuzco, and the chicos (Juanmanuel and Erick) are in search of a new roof. The theme of the party? ADIOS, EX-COMUNA; HOLA, ALBERGUE ALEMAN!

What time is it? Picture time.

On the boat to Pevas. All passengers bring their hammocks on board for the slow journey down the Amazon river. We were part of a bloc of extranjeros: the joke was, "So, a Russian, six Haitians, and two gringas get on a boat..."

Santiago, working on a mask

Merelda taught us how to make pan de yuca... yum

Martha and Santiago, the abuelitos

Rember Segundo (named after his uncle).

He was too cute to be believed.

Back in Iquitos, where there's been a bad drought this year, making transportation difficult. The rainy season has just started, and within a month the river should rise to fill this field.

One of the mansions built during the the turn-of-the-century rubber boom days in Iquitos. (Also, a lady motociclista.)

La Playa! Oh, you can tell that it's about to pour?

Señor de los Milagros

Hello my loved ones and fans.

I know you've been pining away for months, checking my blog daily, desperately hoping for another post.

I apologize. It's been a busy two months. I've been teaching workshops, rehearsing with students for this week's Festival of Sexual and Reproductive Rights (or "SexFest," as my friend Dalia called it), working on a performance project with two friends. Perhaps I will write more about these things later. In the meantime, though, here's a video, made by my roommates for their video blog cuarto de azotea about the Señor de los Milagros procession this past Thursday. Keep your eyes open: I make a brief appearance in the first minute.

Basically, the story is this: a coupla hundred years ago, this Peruvian guy painted an image of a Brown Christ. Then there was an earthquake, and although much of the city was destroyed, the church holding this painting remained intact. People started visiting the image and worshipping in front of it; Spanish Colonial Catholic Church got miffed and sent a couple of Spanish minions to destroy it; the minions claimed that a miracle stopped them from doing so (or maybe they were just refusing to follow orders). The people rejoiced and started parading the image through the streets once a year. Catholic Church was still miffed, but eventually they got over it.

Fast forward to last Thursday. This procession is now one of the biggest in all of Peru. Lots of ladies crying, tons of people-- too many; it felt a little dangerous at one point as thousands of people tried to get as close a possible-- and plenty of anticuchos (cow's heart skewers) to be eaten. Catharsis never tasted so delicious.

I just ate Cuy.

Cuy is deep-fried guinea pig.

...

Mucho gusto, Lima

Hola amigos! I've been here three days, and I know that you've all been on the edge of your collective seat, waiting for an update. Well, here I am!

Lima is big, and lovely, and full of delicious fruits, and cloudy, and confusing, and beautiful. I've alternated between being exhilarated to be here and feeling totally lost. Apparently, this is a common experience when you decide to move to another country; go figure.

I'm living in Pueblo Libre, which is lovely. Here's a picture of our neighborhood, taken from the roof of our house. The dude in yellow is selling ice cream. He goes around blowing a funny horn that sounds like a bird. It's very different from the Mr. Softie jingle...


So far I've only explored three neighborhoods (there are about 50 in Lima; it's enormous)-- the lovely afore-mentioned Pueblo Libre; Jesus Maria, which is closer to Central Lima; and Magdalena del Mar, which is aptly named, since it's on the ocean. I went there expecting to encounter a beach, but instead I found a cliff, a cloud, and a construction site. According the billboards, there's a huge public works project going on to convert the coast into a green paradise for all. I am a little skeptical of such development (are they really builing condominiums and tourist attractions?), but what do I know? Either way, I came home from that particular expedition sunburned as all hell and more than a little bemused. My new roommates thought that the whole escapade was pretty funny-- only tourists would expect to find a beach in Magdalena del Mar-- and everyone keeps remarking on how red I am, but I think it's funny, too.

Speaking of the new roommates-- they're amazing! I owe my friend from college, Shruti, big time. She got us in touch with her friends, and now we're staying with them in this beautiful, colorful house. It's currently shared by 6 people (one of whom I still haven't met), plus me and Rachel. It's a little crazy, but three of the current occupants are leaving in the next two weeks. Then Rachel and I will move into one of the big rooms. For now, we're sharing a tiny casita on the roof! It's actually quite comfortable, and the view is lovely when you can see it. Lima spends much of the year cloaked in fog (part of the cause of my burn-- I forgot that what you can't see can still burn you). Here's a shot of Rachel playing Vinny Roberts III on the roof:


I've been in touch with Ana from Yuyachkani, and I'm going to meet her and attend a workshop with them this weekend. She's unbelievably kind and welcoming. If there's a Giant Karma Counter in the Sky, then I owe it some serious generosity to thank it for Ana.

And in conclusion, I give you: Maleto, the pre-Columbian Peruvian Perro. These dogs have been beloved in Peru for centuries (much like the Chihuahua in Mexico), but wow, they're ugly. Maleto is 20 years old and pees all over the place, but there's something special about him that makes him lovable. Maybe it's the tumors.


Love to you all!