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?

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!

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.