The Cordillera Blanca, in Brilliant Technicolor!

Rachel and I just got back from Huaraz and the Cordillera Blanca. With the help of our guide (don't sneer at me, Michael Hanley: they won't let you into the park without one), a local guy and his two donkeys (okay, maybe that was a bit of an indulgence), a conservative Quebecois gentleman, and a new buddy from Boston, we did the Santa Cruz trek in three days. It was magnificent and perhaps a little bit more challenging than we had anticipated. Here's the story in pictures:

Day 1. Huaripampa: full of cows, cuy farms, and the occasional Italian resort.

End of Day 1. Smooth sailing so far.

Day 2. We catch glimpses of the mountain Taulliraju. Bring it on.

We're not gonna let a little rain get us down.

I vaguely remember thinking at this point that we were close to the top. I was wrong.

One day we'll look back on this moment and laugh...

Several hours of climbing later, with nothing but our strong wills and two packs of strawberry-flavored knock-off Oreos to sustain us, we finally reach the pass.

It was worth it.

The classic Hanley Vacation Shot, except that I'm in front of a glacier. Hi, Mom!

(It's worth noting here that this mountain was completely covered in glacial ice eight years ago, and now it's rapidly melting.)

At this point we realize that Rachel is suffering from altitude sickness. Time to head to lower ground.

Day 3. Oh, gosh.

Then Rachel's hands inexplicably swell to twice their normal size. Hmmm. That's funny.

Ah well, onwards!

Burro brawl just outside of Llama Corral.

In Cashapampa, at the end of the trail:

sunburned, bug-bitten, in caffeine withdrawal, but happy.

***************************************

I'm off to California for my sister's graduation, and then my buddies Emily and Lauren are coming to visit at the end of May, so GA may be a bit ocupada for a while. Expect to hear more from me in June.

In the meantime, if your curiosity is not yet sated, more pictures from the trek are available on my facebook page. And, if you're going to be in Claremont in the next week, shoot me an e-mail! I won't have a cell phone, so we'll have to make plans and stick to them. Just like in ancient times.

And What Exactly Are You Doing in Lima, Megan?

Before I left New York, my friend Emily asked me what my day-to-day life would be like here in Lima. And I, jittery off of too many cups of coffee and the looming prospect of expatriation, had to answer that I just didn't know.

Two months in, I'm still figuring it out, bit by bit. The truth is that I am learning (slowly, painfully) to be more proactive. All the folks at Yuyachkani are amazing, but if I had thought that they would have a 9-5 work plan waiting for me when I landed at Jorge Chavez International, then, well, I was wrong. I'm currently working on a project proposal to send their way; more on that some other time.

Meanwhile, Rach and I are working on a piece to present next week at a performance exposition run by our roommates. The topic of the evening: "Cuestion de Fe" (Question of Faith). Our piece will involve some movement, the Nicene Creed, a bit of Hebrew, and George Michael (on accordion, of course). I will post about that next week; I am too jittery about it right now.

I've been looking for volunteer opportunities, which has been getting easier as I've gotten better at talking on the phone in Spanish. (It's harder than you'd think. I didn't realize how much I rely upon non-verbal communication- in both English and Spanish, really- until I picked up my movistar and tried to have real conversation on it.) The other challenge there has been trying to find a way to volunteer responsibly. I'm not really interested in contributing more to the non-profit industrial complex, especially on a global scale. (The non-profit industrial complex, hereafter called the NPIC, is the system in which social justice work becomes dependent on the State and private donors. This was articulated by INCITE! in 2004 at their conference "The Revolution Will Not Be Funded," and you can read more about it here.) Subject of future post: the NPIC in Lima.

Bla bla bla. Point is, I've been trying to find volunteer work on my own, without turning to the volunteer-placement organizations that show up at Idealist.org volunteer fairs (and charge you hundreds of dollars for the pleasure) (does that money go to the organizations that you're supporting, NPIC? No? Hmm. Well, then, where does it go?). And that's been slow going. But for now, I've met with two groups that I'll work with on weekends-- one, a community-based organization in Ventanilla, run by and for teenagers; and another, a weekly workshop at a home/school for kids who are HIV positive. Both groups are cool, ask for solidarity from their volunteers, and are looking for people to do arts/theatre workshops. (Subject of future post.)

During the week, I go to Spanish classes every day from 9 AM - 1 PM. That's a very good thing. I still make mistakes all the time, but I'm also getting better (poco a poco). My class is small, my teacher is a lot of fun, and I like my classmates. The only bummer is when I run into the occasional Ugly American. You know the archetype (Ipod earbuds firmly implanted; loudly jabbering in English and/or appallingly-accented Spanish, but usually English; spewing complaints about the traffic, the weather, the food, the people...), but meeting these turistas in the flesh is somewhat horrifying. No matter. I stick with the ladies in my class, who are all a lot of fun, and I choose not to speak to the Ugly Americans (and their brethren: the Ugly Europeans), or, if I must spend time in their presence, I stick to Spanish. That has the effect of shutting them up nicely, because it's painfully obvious that they've spent weeks or months here without learning a word of it.

Other Things I Do in Lima: Read. Go to museums. Exercise (though not as frequently as I had intended to do in my retirement) (eh, maybe next week). Cook Quinotto, a risotto made with quinua that is really delicious. Go shopping for exciting fruits. Eat. See shows and/or performance art. Drink with my roommates. Plan the upcoming trip to Machu Picchu with Rachel and my best friends from high school, Emily and Lauren. Study Spanish. Try to focus on living in the moment. Write the occasional blog post.

So there you have it, folks. That's more or less what I'm up to right now.

And in conclusion: if you give me your address, I will send you a postcard. If you don't want to leave it as a comment, shoot me an e-mail at megankhanley(at)gmail.com. Expect to hear from me in 3-5 weeks.

Combis and Other Obstacles

Happy March! While many of you have been battling blizzards in New York, this is how my roommates and I spend our mornings here:

It’s hard to believe that I’ve only been here a week. It’s been something of a roller coaster. I spent a few days feeling like a child every time I tried to speak Spanish, which was pretty hard. It didn’t help that this city is intimidating when it comes to public transportation (more on that momentarily), especially when one is only semi-lingual. Back in New York, my friend Karina warned me to brace myself for some culture shock, but I was still caught off guard by it. Perhaps that was arrogant of me; oops.

BUT. During my course with SITI Company last month, Stephen reminded us again and again to throw ourselves directly at the obstacle rather than try to go around it. So, that’s what I’m trying to make myself do with this particular obstacle: I’m starting Spanish classes tomorrow, I’m trying to talk as much as possible, and I’m becoming a master at using the Combis to get around this huge city.

Combis! They are an anarchist’s ideal form of public transportation, and I love them. Combis are little busses or sometimes vans that speed up and down most of the major roads in Lima. One person drives, while another stands at the bus door and yells out the name of the street where they’re going: “JAVIER PRADO JAVIPRADO JAVIPRADO!”. (The combis also have street names painted on them, but sometimes those are inaccurate.) You wait until someone drives by yelling the name of the street you want, and then you ask them if they’re going to pass your cross street, and then you hop on. Sometime during the ride, the Yeller comes around and collects your fare (usually about 30 cents in US money), and then, when the bus is approaching your street, you yell out “Baja baja baja!” (“Getting off getting off getting off!”), and there you are. It’s brilliant and way more fun than the MTA. The only problem is that I’m usually too tall to stand up straight, and I’ve bumped my head and stepped on people and generally made a stupid turista of myself several times. Ah well. I’ve only had one week of practice.

To conclude: First week in a new country = (unsurprisingly) hard. Combis = fantastic. Maletó, the Peruvian Perro = still wonderful. Here are some pictures! You can click on them to see the full-sized image.

Maletó. I mean, really. How can you not love this creature?

A blurry picture of the casita (little house) on the roof where I've been sleeping. It's really pretty nice, except for that green light bulb. But Rachel and I move into a new room this week, and I'm ready to unpack.

The view from the roof at sunset. Not bad, eh?

More to come soon...