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?

On tourism

Me quedan cinco dias. Five days! That's overwhelming and exciting and sad all at once. On Wednesday night I'll take a red-eye to LAX and then another flight to Seattle, arriving just in time for Christmas Eve with my family. Here in Lima, summer has finally arrived after months and months of fog and chilly humidity (yeah, it's a whole different ballgame). Nativity scenes and blue-eyed Santa Clauses have popped up on the facades of pollerias and corner stores, and the palm trees in the park in front of my house have been adorned with strings of lights and speakers that blast tinny Christmas music every night between 6 - 11 PM. It's all somewhat surreal.

Rach and I decided to squeeze in two final, quick trips (between my performance and her finals) before I head back to the States. I haven't had time to write about the trip to Cajamarca last month, so I'm playing catch-up now. Cajamarca is in the northern part of Peru, in a valley fringed by big international mining companies from the US, China, and other countries. The cityand land is gorgeous, but the mining industry is ever-present-- in the huge trucks that roar through the streets and hills, in the municipal projects that "represent new relationships between the public and private sectors" (i.e. are funded by Yanacocha). A taxi driver named Antonio took us out to the Ventanillas de Combayo, supposedly an Incan burial ground, and explained that a person working for the mining companies can earn a salary 4 or 5 times greater than, for instance, a teacher (and perhaps 8 times greater than that of a domestic worker in Lima). He says that almost every family has an uncle or a son or a father working in or for the mines, so who can protest? Well, he has a point. From my tourist's point of view, Cajamarca seems to have more wealth than other cities I've visited in Peru. It also has noticeably more old women begging for money in the plazas all day before hiking home, up to the hills, at night.

I share this because I think it's important-- for me, for other potential tourists-- to think critically about the places we visit and to examine how we contribute to unjust systems. Rachel and I have tried to be responsible tourists this year, visiting friends of friends instead of "tourist destinations" and planning our own trips instead of going through agencies in hopes of having more control of where and to whom the money goes. But tourism is a complicated and ugly beast. At Machu Picchu, for instance, the guards make barely enough money to support themselves in pricey Aguas Calientes, and they're often fired three months after they're hired, a post-Fujimori development that means that the guards never become eligible for health insurance (it's common practice in many of the supermarkets as well). We learned this from Clemente, a guard who led us up the mountain at 3 AM.

This is a longer discussion, one that I'll happily have with anyone who is thinking about visiting Peru, but I'll leave it there for the time being and just show you some lovely pictures of Cajamarca...

At the hot springs at the Banos del Inca, where Athaulpa supposedly bathed before the Spaniards killed him and ransacked the city's gold. I'm oversimplifying a lot of very complicated stories into this one little blog post, aren't I?

Las Ventanillas del Combayo... empty tombs built by the Incans. Suprisingly similiar to the above-ground tombs that you find today in cemetaries in and around Lima.

Rachel and I decided to do a day hike to Cumbe Mayo. We read that it was about 20 kilometers away from Cajamarca and thought, "20 kilometers is about 6 miles, right? No problem." We weren't worried when everyone we asked for directions warned us that it was leeeeeeejos, far away.

It turns out that 20 kilometers is actually about 12 miles, and we didn't reach Cumbe Mayo (above) until about 4 PM, two hours before sunset (I know, we should have turned back, but we were so close. Mentira.) Luckily, a bunch of hippies gave us a ride back to the city.

On our way back to Lima, we stopped for a few hours in Chimbote, where my buddy Cathleen is working as a nurse this year, to eat some early-morning combinado (cebiche and tallerines a la huancaina-- spaghetti with hot aji pepper sauce) and to reminisce over plastic cups of sweet Chimbote wine.

Another post about our second trip, to the Selva, coming later this afternoon (gotta post this stuff before I head home, because who wants to read a travel blog once the travels have ended?)...

Home Again

Hello best and brightest.

So here's a summary of the past six weeks or so of my life: my pata pata Sophie came to visit me and Rachel; we threw her in a bus to Lake Titicaca and then essentially abandoned her on a farm for a week; we all came back to Lima, and I spent a few days breathing and dancing and experimenting with Yuyachkani; we hopped on a plane to Medellin, Colombia, where we reuned with several of my best buddies from college; there, my friend Rebecca got married to a lovely young man named Walter; Rachel and I came back to Lima and ate a lot of good food with her sister Claire and her uncle Norm; and also I started teaching two theatre workshops.

Life is great when you get to go on so many vacations.

Well, normal life is good, too. But before we get to that, here are some pictures from the above-mentioned adventures.

At the Santa Catalina Monastery in Arequipa, reconnecting with those Sacred Heart roots.

We went hiking in the Canon del Colca, the second-deepest canyon in the world (deeper than the Grand one) (it was a pretty good hike).

We spent several days with two communities of Suma Yapu, a network of families and an organization that's working to preserve farming, cultural, and medicinal traditions in the Lake Titicaca region. They don't have a lot of info in English on the web, but there's some info about the organizers in this Spanish-language documentary, and I can pass information on to anyone who might be interested in visiting and learning from members of their communities.

Here, Gladys, Roxanna, and Martina taught me how to make waha (watya/Pachamama), an amazing, natural oven. We threw in a bunch of potatoes and some straw, got a good fire going, collapsed the walls of the oven, waited an hour, and then dug up a feast of sweet, delicious papas. Yum.

Speaking of potatoes, they grow over 130 varieties of potato in the community of Rio Saltado alone. Know how many we grow in the US? About five. Five! Don't believe me? Read this and weep.

Juli was beautiful and cold. So, so cold. I heard later that it got down to -10 degrees celsius at night, or 14 degrees fahrenheit. I'm glad I didn't know how bad it was at the time.

Rachel's host-mamita Esperanza and two of my host-mamitas, Martina and Brigida, prepared an amazing feast of potatoes and various spicy salsas. This was unbelievably delicious for all of us who enjoy eating potatoes, which is to say, for everyone except Sophie.

This is quinua, btw. Beautiful, no?

Then we went back to Arequipa.

Arequipa is known for its food.

It was overwhelming.

Then Rebecca and Walter got married!

We were faklempt.

We visited la Piedra del Penol, about two hours outside of Medellin. Rachel and Annie lost several rounds of poker, hence the wig and tiny hat.

The best part of growing up and diaspora-ing is that the reunions are amazing.

In my next post: the Laboratorio Abierto Internacional with Yuyachkani!

Tours by Megan: Or, How to Make your Friends Violently Ill in Just One Week!

These are my best friends from high school, Emily and Lauren:

Three weeks ago, they stumbled off of a terrible American Airlines flight and into the waiting arms of Rachel, for I was still in transit, somewhere between Portland and Dallas and Miami and Lima. I got home around 5 AM, climbed into my bed, and woke up four hours later to find the ladies standing in my courtyard, trying to decide whether it was a good idea or a bad idea to go exploring on their own.

And explore we did. In 10 days, we wandered around Pueblo Libre, Barranco, and El Centro; we saw Yuyachkani's new show and attended a video performance/party at elgalpon; we traveled to Nasca, Cuzco, and Machu Picchu by bus, train, plane, and several combis; and we ate cuy, camote chips, and cebiche (plus the occasional Esnickers). We also missed out on a lot of REM cycles. Lauren and I stayed up all night and spent a few hours waiting at a gas station, drinking chocolate milk, to catch our 4 AM bus to Nasca:

Then two days later we stumbled out of bed around 3:30 AM to hop a plane to Cuzco, where we stayed at the incredible Hospedaje Caith, part of Centro Yanapanakusun, a non-profit that works to support domestic workers' rights. Here's a non-profit that's doing something right: all proceeds from the hostal support their programs, which include a home for young women doing domestic work in Cuzco; a radical radio program run by the young women; outreach in and around Cuzco; workshops with domestic workers and employers; and other really cool organizing. If any of you, dear readers, find yourself planning a trip to Machu Picchu in the next few years, I highly recommend staying there.

Anyway, we spent two days exploring Cuzco, then we slept in until about 6 before taking the bus/train to Aguas Calientes, the somewhat sad tourist city at the base of Machu Picchu. It was overwhelming: Europeans and North Americans everywhere, Yale "study abroad" counselors trying to befriend us (trying to steal our artifacts, more like it), restaurant hosts and hostesses fighting for our patronage. Yeesh. But it turns out that Machu Picchu was worth it. I suppose this is why it's a wonder of the world:

The next day Rach and I got up at 3 AM to climb Machu Picchu in darkness and to get entrance stamps so we could go up Wayna Picchu. Clemente, a security guard at Machu Picchu who does this hike every morning (the bus costs $7 each way, which is a lot of money for a twenty-minute ride), offered to walk us up. It's a good thing he did: we were hiking by moonlight up hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of steps, and I'm not sure I could have done it if I hadn't been worried about making him late for work. He also regaled us with stories of weeping tourists who had lost their entrance passes, a story that we saw reenacted around 5:15 AM by a rather unfortunate British girl. Finally, a bit after 7 AM, we watched the sun rise over Machu Picchu. This was spectacular, even though we were sitting right in front of an Italian tour group whose guide was going on and on about the heroics of Hiram Bingham.

Also on this day, the Domestic Workers Bill of Rights was passed in the NY State Senate!!!

Finally, all those nights of sleeplessness plus a bad sunburn and a pussing toe took their toll: Emily and Lauren ended up sick in bed for our last day in Cuzco. Whoops. Sorry, guys!

Pobrecitas. Plus, they missed out on Corpus Cristi in Cuzco, in which they parade 15 saints around the central square, each saint accompanied by his or her own brass band and dancers:

On Corpus Cristi, it's also traditional to eat Chiri Uchu, or a cold plate of chicken, cuy, cornbread, seaweed, fish eggs, and corn. Yummm. Emily didn't seem to regret missing out on this one, though, and we brought Lauren a plate to eat in bed.

Then it was back to Lima via a long-delayed one-hour flight, made tolerable only by Lauren's sister's pub quizzes, and then the ladies flew back to the States. Now I'm in week two of Normal Life after a whole month of travelling. This is an interesting adjustment, but luckily the World Cup is around to keep me from being too productive. My roommates are divided: one for Argentina, one for Germany, a few indifferent. Personally, I'm going for the vuvuzelas.

So that was the trip. Lauren and Em, thanks for coming! Love you, ladies!

Back in the U.S.S.A.

Hello, world! GA is back from her journeys, SIM card full to bursting.

Today I'll post some pictures from the trip to California for Erin's graduation; sometime this weekend, I'll add some from Lauren and Emily's visit and our subsequent trip to Cuzco and Machu Picchu.

But first, congratulations to my little sister! Erin has officially become a Bachelor of Arts in Neuroscience. Way to go, buddy. Congrats, too, to Litza, Peter, Shruti, Mallory, Leslie, and the Moose, who reminded me several nights in a row what it means to party like a college student. Good job, guys. (Now go get a job. May I suggest a career in oil spill clean up?)

So. I spent the days in Claremont trying to eat as much American food as possible, specifically coffee from the Motley's new brew bar and burritos at Patty's. (Also pizza and curry. Yum.) That was delightful. Then Erin and I combed through the detritus left by outgoing Scripps students, collecting enough food to last us for a week. If we'd had more room in the car, we could have taken enough to last the whole summer, no problem. I even found a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's in the recycling bin. Did I drink it, you ask? Is my name Megan Hanley?, I answer.

Then we hit the road in our mumus for the most good-looking Road Trip you can imagine, with stops in no less than THREE national parks in one week:

Sequoia,

Yosemite,

and Redwood National Park, where there be elk, which are dangerous, so you should not stop on the side of the road to photograph them.

It was all really, really good-looking.

But watch out, all ye Great American Campers-- these parks are full of OSOS (bears... shhh, say it quietly, so Erin doesn't hear, freak out, and start wrestling the furriest thing in sight):

Consider yourself warned.

The bear-free part of the road trip was great, too. We ran into some wonderful buddies in Fish Camp and Oakland and Tillamook; I nearly froze to death, first in Yosemite and then in a

swamp; and we had a couple of great meals and a few epic fails.

Finally we met up with our parents and a Stanford Alumnae convention for two beautiful days on the Oregon Coast, and then I hopped on a couple of planes and jetted back to Lima...

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.