The rest of Peru

(The following was actually written July 22, 2012, but I did not have the opportunity to post it until now.)

I find myself having gone from the jungles of Ecuador, to the beautiful sandy beaches of the desert coast of Peru, to the traffic congested and noise polluted city of Lima , only to have ended up in the mountain pueblo of Urubamba Peru. I am about a two hour train ride from the famous ruins of Machupicchu. Sadly, I found out that you must book days in advance if you hope to enter the ruins, at least during the busy season. Therefore I will not be visiting them since I do not have the time to waste here. I am anxious to get to my next project and feel useful again. I have been once as a child and do have some memories of the place, so I am not too heartbroken, not to mention it costs a minimum of $120 to go and I’d rather use that elsewhere. On a different note, I ate cuy (guinea pig) for the first time tonight and am praying that my childhood pet guinea pig, Tribble, will forgive me, but I had to try it. It is a common dish here in Peru, along with llama and alpaca, which I will be trying soon, if my stomach permits. It was a bit strange eating cuy since there is no disguising it, as the entire cuy lay on my plate staring up at me with its mouth wide open. The flavor is difficult for me to describe since the only thing I think of that came close was a squirrel that I once ate as a teenager. I will leave it with the mere comment that it will be the last time I choose to eat it. It was not entirely bad, but certainly not my first choice of meats.

Since my last entry I placed myself in communication with the family of Gaetana Glaleska, one of my friends back home. They were kind enough to put me up for a night during my stay in the Trujillo area. It was a nice little house around the corner from the ocean. I met one of her sisters, Gretta, who was very kind, but was sick and had classes so I only briefly met her. I met her little brother by the name of Benjamin, who without hesitation, gave up his bedroom for me with a smile on his face. I’m not sure of his age, but I think around 10 maybe. I didn’t get to see him much either since he was at school most of the time. The one I did get to meet and get to know a little more is Patricio, her father. This man is a character. You can’t help but love the guy from the start. He’s a sugar cane farmer and has the look of a man that loves to spend his time in the fields and outside. He loves to talk and is never at a loss for words, as colorful as they often are. He invited me to go run some errands with him the next morning. I had no idea what that would entail and gladly accepted the invite. We left fairly early in the morning for the city of Trujillo first and ended up at his mother’s house. It’s always funny to see people with their mothers. No matter what age they are, they become a child in the presence of mom. Here, a grown man, getting into a discussion with his mom about him getting rid of his warn out, favorite jeans. I thoroughly enjoyed being the virtually invisible bystander. Then, we boarded a bus and headed out to a farming community called Viru, all the while he was talking my ear off, though half the time I couldn’t understand a word he said. He speaks fast and not very clearly most of the time. It quickly became apparent he is a well-known man in the community as everywhere we went, one person or another was saying hi to him. After running a few more errands we ended up at a potentially gorgeous villa/ranch in the outskirts of the town. I say potentially because I’m sure it once was, but it has long since been abandoned and run down. The house is large and spacious with a guesthouse in the back, larger then most people’s only home. There is a complex for the ranch hands to live in and stables nearby. A swimming pool with an arched bridge crossing over it decorates the front lawn. A large corral along the side of the house, with fields surrounding the outskirts of the property complete the scene. The only inhabitants now are the rats and insects along with two dogs and the six horses he keeps tied up on the grounds. It made me sad to hear the story of how it came to be this way. I will not share the story as it only comes from one persons point of view and it defames some people. So I will leave the subject alone, with the addition that, aside from other things, the pueblo nearby has grown, and with it, the crime in the area. It is no longer a very safe place to live and it would be costly to upkeep. Patricio is passionate about his animals, most especially his horses. He and I spent several hours of the day taking care of the horses and dogs. Much of the rest of the day was spent driving to his different fields that he has scattered in the surrounding villages. I learned a bit about the cane business and unlike many farms in the states that grow other plants, it is a year round process just to grow the sugarcane. I did spend some time in the fields working as well, and that part is much the same as the other farms I have worked on. We finished the day with the horses again, but this time he saddled up one of them. We contemplated my getting on the horse, but it was not very broken and my experience on horses is limited. So we chose the wiser route and left it to the expert. After arriving back at the house at around 8 pm, I said goodbye to Patricio who almost seemed genuinely sad to see me go as he said, “You know where we live now and you are more than welcome to stay.” But then he said something else, “We’ve only spent the day together, but it feels like I’ve known you all my life.” I was very touched by that comment. Benjamin walked me to where the bus would take me into Trujillo. He put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me with the air of a grown man and very sincerely told me to be careful and to come back and visit sometime. I couldn’t help but laugh inside with a smile on the outside. I like Benjamin, he’s a good kid. Upon arrival at the bus station in Trujillo I was going to change, but found my clothes had mold on them from the jungle, days previous. They had never fully dried. So I decided to stay one more night.

The next morning I went north a bit to Huanchaco, a little surf town. While I waited for my clothes to be washed, I decided to actually take a surf lesson. I’ve surfed three times in my life, but never took a lesson. I must say it was worth it. The instructor was actually surprised at my ability to grasp it and by the end of our session was giving me the more advanced lessons that one doesn’t usually get on their first day. This by no means indicates I am good, only that I caught on quick. I have much practicing to do. I love the ocean and being in it. There has always been something that draws me to it. It is enchanting and relaxing. It’s power demands respect and its beauty is spellbinding. The sound can leave you in a trance while the smell, for me is nostalgic. Right now though, for me, it is a connection to familiarity and with that comes comfort and peace.

The next leg of the trip brought me to the big city of Lima. It is a massive city with millions of people. I found myself in the middle of downtown at 3am as I walked the streets looking for a place to stay for the night. The Sheraton Hotel looked awfully appealing, but I can’t afford such luxury. While the prostitutes were anxious to make me comfortable for the night, I quickly moved on to a location a good distance away from that district where I finally found a place to stay for the few hours left of the morning. The next day I met up with my dear friend Paola Lam. I met Paola a couple of years ago in the states through my old boss and friend Dawn Burgess. I spent one afternoon with her and we have been friends ever since. Here in Peru, I spent several days with her and her family/friends. They had a spare room for me so it was quite comfy. Much of the time I spent on my own while she was at work, but I didn’t mind since she too lives a couple of blocks from the beach. I found myself out there a lot, writing. One day we went out to a place called Lachay, which is a couple of hours north in the middle of the desert. As you drive literally through dunes and barren landscape for as far as the eye can see, you then take a detour on a dirt road and head to where the eyes cannot see,.. the clouds. As you enter the clouds you slowly begin to see growth on the ground. First, little grasses begin to show, then bushes, and even trees. With plants, come birds and other life. We hiked around for a couple of hours in this strange oasis. The moisture in the air was enough that by the time we were done, we were wet and somewhat cold. It was a wonderfully eerie hike through the clouds with all of the strangely shaped trees in the mist and the imposing granite boulders that seemed to appear out of nowhere in the fog. Truly an amazing sight to see in the middle of a desert. On a different day, Paola took me to one of the old catholic cathedrals/convents in downtown. She used to be a tour guide there, so they let us in for free and we got to be by ourselves as we wandered the catacombs. Supposedly there are 7 levels of burials below the one level that we got see. How many thousands of people were buried there? In just the level that I saw, there were representative bones for hundreds, if not thousands already. Catholic cathedrals are amazing structures, but there is a very obvious reason that they are a common centerpiece for horror movies, they are creepy!

On a different note, that same evening as Paola walked me through Lima’s little Chinatown, we found out her sister had been robbed and as far as we knew, no one had heard from her after a phone call ended in a scream and the phone number was disconnected shortly thereafter. You can imagine Paola’s panic and fear for her sister as she made call after call to different people trying to accomplish something. Imagine the frustration that comes with the feelings of helplessness and knowing that the police would be useless in a case like this down here. As we were driving back to her house, I said a prayer in my heart, that if something did happen, that there were only objects robbed and nothing else, and that we would find out soon that her sister was fine. No sooner had I closed my prayer in my mind, Paola received a call from her aunt saying that her sister was fine and that they had stolen her phone and some other things, but that, other than being a little shook up, nothing else had happened. What an incredible Father in Heaven we have, who answers prayers so immediately. God is there, and he is listening. Just talk to him. After having seen a few other sights around the city of Lima and its outskirts, I finished my stay with a visit to the Lima Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. There I served my God and those who have gone before.

What better way to volunteer than to give your time to our Heavenly Father. I make a point of noting this because as I have roughly scheduled out my journey’s timetables, and it looks like if I want to get home by Nov. or Dec then I can only volunteer at maybe three more locations for two weeks each. Travel appears to be a lot more slow going than I had originally anticipated. So much of the service I will be doing on this trip will be done in the Temples of our God. Of course things can change quickly and I may not even get that, but that is what I hope.

I haven’t spoken much on the actual travel portion of my journeys. Perhaps mostly because it isn’t usually that interesting. For now I have used public transportation. It is not too costly, and the people here are not accustomed to giving free rides to hitchhikers. However, this does mean I share a double-decker bus with many kinds of people. I have seen all types, even drunks that have boarded. The conditions are not terribly uncomfortable for a few hours, but more than 6 becomes excessive and considerably uncomfortable. I tell you this because the bus ride from Lima to Cuzco was 23 hours nonstop up winding mountain roads. I made the mistake of eating the food they provided and by about 6 hours into the trip I was hit with food poisoning. From the sounds and smells on the bus and the sights seen in the bathroom with no toilet seat, I was not the only one who got sick, whether from motion or food. For those of you with weak stomachs, I apologize and you may not want to continue reading the rest of this paragraph. I describe the scene only to show that this trip is not all fun and games and it comes with its misery and pain. The bathroom on the bus was soon even more unsanitary than it was at the start and if you were lucky enough to not be sick from the food, the smells and sights of the excrements, both on the toilet and in the sink, would soon do the job. To make matters worse, in most public restrooms down here, you must provide your own toilet paper. This was no exception. Well, like an idiot American I left mine in my bag in the luggage compartment. Unused pages from my notebook were my saving grace. Crumpling and re-crumpling can do wonders for comfort. Pain and misery were my companions the entire rest of the trip. Needless to say, I did not sleep much. As icing on the cake, the change of altitudes was very apparent in my throat and head. What could have been a beautiful and picturesque ride was turned into a nightmare and will go down in the books as one of the worst rides of my life. Cuzco could not come soon enough.

To end on a happier note, I arrived safe in Cuzco and found a hotel. In spite of the fever and chills I had for the first couple of hours in bed, I ended up sleeping quite well the rest of the night. The only good thing about food poisoning, is that it usually only lasts a day or so. I spent this morning walking around Cuzco a bit, seeing the various Catholic cathedrals and then caught a little van (combi) to Urubamba an hour away. So having just gotten over food poisoning yesterday, it may not have been a good night to try cuy.

The days here are quite warm and the nights can get quite cold. That’s the life of the adventurer. The mountains remind me a bit of the Wasatch Front mountains of Utah. I do mean the side that you can see from the cities and not so much the forest areas. I am in what the people here consider to be the Sacred Valley and it truly is gorgeous. I hiked up one of the mountains this afternoon and though I felt the altitude, the reward was worth it as I looked out over the valley. In front of me lay the valley filled with little houses and behind me were snowcapped mountains. It was breathtaking. As I sat and watched the sunset over the mountains I knew that this is the gift given to those who are willing to put forth just a little effort. I am always glad when I do. With that all being said, I leave you in God’s hands and will hopefully write again soon.