voyage to Cajamarca

I spend a lot of time on this trip repeating the following phrase in my head: (insert parental advisery): what the fuck??
WTF is going on?
WTF happened to the street I am searching for?
WTF am I eating?
WTF are they talking about? (I`m getting better if you are wondering, with my Spanish...but there`s still a great deal of time where my brain is stuck on the aforementioned phrase)
WTF am I doing here exactly??
And especially I was thinking WTF on my trip to Cajamarca, in an unairconditioned bus with no bathroom, through the mountains on incredibly bumpy (shall we even call them roads?) roads, for 9 hours... those who have traveled with me in the mountains know this is a triple-whammy. And since I had nothing to do in my state of nausea and delirium but stare out the window, I found myself repeating in my brain something more along the lines of ``Well I´ll be damned....who knew this was here?`` The mountain scenery was absolutely breathtaking. I again wondered to myself, why the heck do people even go to Europe??? Central and South America have incredible history and architecture, fabulous food, art, culture, crazy diverse and beautiful outdoors, and it´s cheap! I guess it`s just not as well-publicized...it´s not as `sexy,` which is crazy to me! But I can´t say that I mind. I find myself being the only whitey everywhere I go (however things will change of course when I head down south to Cuzco).

Back to the incredible scenery...coming from Iowa, I thought I knew a thing or two about the country and cornfields and cows...but let me tell you, you ain´t seen nothing until you´ve seen cows and corn terrace-farmed into super old crubly brown and red mountains with cacti growing all over, pristine green-blue lakes and rivers passing through, as well as intricate antique ground irrigations systems, not to mention donkeys hanging out in the ditches and pigs tied to trees (see, WTF?). And the people we passed wore the traditional mountain campesino clothes: tall straw hats, black shoes, and were wrapped up with their babies on their backs in hand-woven blankets and shalls. It was like something out of a movie, which is something I have to continually remind myself of--that in fact, this is not a movie, that I am actually doing this...I am in Peru, by myself, on some crazy pot-holey dirt road, going through the mountians... (WTF? how do I find myself doing these things???)
jajajajajajaajaja. Translation: hahahahahahaha
ahhh, I love my life!

Another town, another Peruvian boyfriend

It´s a blessing and a bother that wherever I go, I attract people. It´s part the friendly nature of the culture, and part the novelty of a light-skined, light-haired, green-eyed Americana. It´s hard to imagine people in the US flocking to foreigners who can barely put together a sentence—in fact, we tend to steer clear of anyone who may invoke an awkward situation or delay us in anyway in our day. But here, it`s quite the opposite. And I am grateful for that, because I always have someone to talk to and practice my Español with, but with my adventure to Huanchaco, I have to say I almost lost it... I have been incredibly understanding of cultural differences in how people act toward each other (specifically between men and women)...maybe I`ve even given a little too much slack to some certain inappropriate men (like when they want to go somewhere and then oops no $, so I have to pay for taxi or entrance, or I let slide when they call me their princess and drape their arm around me continually). But when the person is genuinely friendly or approaches me out of curiosity, of course, I never mind, but when it feels like I am being taken advantage of, it`s very hard for me to maintain the love and respect I try to hold for all persons.... I should start out by saying that I left Trujillo to go north to a little beach town, called Huanchaco, both to have a little alone time before I leapt into my home stay, and also with the hope of finding a clean bed and maybe a hot shower. After waking up itchy and discovering ants in my bed (I wasn`t surprised after having to basically sweep my bed before getting into it), I decided it may be worth the $10 to spring for a hostel.

So, along the way to Huanchaco, I met a nice, businessy looking guy named Manuel. We decided to share a taxi since we were headed in the same direction. I intended only this, but then he insisted on helping with my luggage, and then going out to lunch so he could practice his English. Sure, fine. But then he wanted to walk around and show me the sights…holding hands and telling me how much he adores me and how it was fate that brought us together...and then he wanted to kiss me (sorry sir, you´re only about the 10th guy who has tried--this is not a unique little excursion--you are not my latin lover, this is not fate)…and after I very clearly and bluntly explained to him that I did not want that, and in fact that I found his behavior innapropriate--that this is not how men and women act in my culture, and that American girls are not like they are portrayed in the movies and on MTV, and furthermore that American girls do not want to be lavished with compliments and physical affection (this is another thing: Apparently Peruvian girls love to be told how beautiful they are constantly, and with a slew of cheesy phrases....I can´t tell you the number of ridiculous (to an American girl) things I´ve been told. My favourite being from song lyrics, like ¨Rachel, when a man loves a woman, can´t keep his mind of nothing else¨ (direct quote from un-named boy) and ¨Everything I do, Rachel, I do it for you,¨ thank you Bryan Adams...). Anyway, it`s uncomfortable for me having to be so stern with people—it`s simply not in my nature, but I end up having to be quite the bitch to get the point across that NO I don`t want to be your girlfriend, I don`t want to kiss you, and absolutely NOT you can NOT take a nap in my hotel!!! It`s crazy too, I feel like the bitchier and more physically unapplealing I am, the more attractive I am to these men. Today´s a clean day…I showered for the first time in 3 days, but as you can imagine, I spend a good amount of time being smelly, greasy, acne-ified, and generally unpleasant looking, especially when I don`t sleep well because my bed has bugs in it, and I am dehydrated because nobody freaking drinks water here (I am not exaggerating). Good lord.

I do want to make a special note though on how fabulous the food was at this particular lunch. I had a palta rellena, which consisted of one and half avocados (wait, wait, don´t count the fat grams yet), stuffed with mayonaisey seafood salad and topped with cream....mmmm. It went perfectly with my favourite juice: passion fruit.
I have to say though, that the unpleasantness of my encounter with Manuel (and I should note that I had three other male admirers in my 2 day stay in Trujillo/Huanchaco), was not overshadowed by the lovliness of waking up peacefully in a clean bed, taking a nice clean shower, and enjoying a cup of coffee sola. Also, there was a pet turtle at the hostel, and hammocks to lounge in.

More soon about my current location: Cajamarca!!

Love, love, love, Rachel

PS I would like thank American men for your subtlety when it comes to romance. As much as American women complain about American men not being attentive or romantic enough, and as much as I ablsolutely adore the warmness and open-ness of Latin culture, when it comes to romance, it´s quite frankly over the top for me (and I can be kind of mushy myself!)....Thank you my dear American boys for not saying ¨I love you¨ after knowing me for one day, for not constantly having your hand on the back of my neck or around my shoulder, and for not whining that I don´t really love you or that I won´t give you enough time....!!!!

Trujillo

I am in Trujillo now, which is a 9 hour bus ride north from Lima, which I hopped aboard at 11:30 last night after partaking in some couch surfing festivities. If you didn´t know, I´m having the fabulous experience of couch surfing here in Peru, which has involved staying with some great hosts and meeting some really fabulous people (not to mention the amazing parties!) Today I went to Chan Chan, which is Peru´s largest pre-Incan empire (The Chimús)´s capital, and was built somewhere around the year 1000. It´s a giant adobe city that is estimated to have housed 30,000-60,000 people. It is UNESCO World Heritage Site. And I am delighted to report that I got there by myself using my once-dreaded microbuses. I neglected to say earlier that one of the most intimidating parts is that someone hangs out of the bus door and yells at you and you have a second to decide if this is the right bus or not, and jump on as they yell or grunt ¨subri subri,¨ to get you to quickly accend the stairs and mash yourself uncomfortably into your many neighbors on the crowded bus. Then when you want to get off, you have to push your way to the front and say baja! But, now that I´ve done it a few times, I feel much more comfortable...and as for the pay rate, I just hand them a sol and hope it´s sufficient.

and here is a link about the clowning trip:
http://www.patchadams.org/campaign/clown_trips/peru_aug_2008

ding ding ding, ugliest city in the world!

19.08.08: I´ve been nearly on house arrest in Lima due to the facts that I don't really understand the language nor the city. Lima is enormous, dirty, LOUD, cold, and unfriendly, not to mention inexplicably hideous--its like Paris without all the beautiful archetecture, on crack--it´s grayer, much much much much much dirtier, unfriendlier, and with an incomprehensible public transportation system...there are no subways, only crazy mini-buses with mysterious pay rates and esoteric routes. Oh yeah, and to top it off, the city is surrounded by ugly, brown, outer-space looking mountains that trap in air pollution, and seem to seep the dark fog that clouds the city.

Today though, I took to the streets...I have discovered that I am actually in an area called La Molina, which is quite a distance from Central Lima, Miraflores, San Isidro, and Barranco, which is where most of the action is. I´m not sure how to get to any of the afore listed places, besides taking a taxi...if they feel like taking you the little jaunt, which in my experience in trying to hail a couple taxis, they don´t want to. So, I walked around for a couple hours in my immediate area and stopped for a cafè, papa rellena (a potato based pastry thing stuffed with olives, meat, and onions), and an alfajor (two thin butter cookies stuffed with manjar blanco, a sort of caramel). These kinds of days I really enjoy being a sola traveler. There´s no worry in getting lost, no obligation to find anything or do anything specific, because my whole purpose is simply to take in the life around me. My style as a traveler is not so much a sight-seer, but as a life-observer. When I went to Paris, I think the only ¨sight¨ I saw was the Lourve and the Eifel Tower as I strolled by, not bothering to stop into them. I feel like those things are seen and forgotten, but to experience the life of the people in a different place, is something you can carry with you always. There I spent extended periods of time sitting in parks and cafès, tasting the local food and observing the people, the animals, and the diurnal life as it unfolded.
So here too, I´ve enjoyed just walking--seeing the day slowly unfold--stopping for several minutes to observe a bird I´ve never seen before, watching women in green jumpsuits and masks sweep the streets with brooms, men in their workshops--welding and building things out of wood (how often do you see that on the streets in the US? Building for us is picking something up from IKEA and assembling it with wood colored tape and color-coded screws), seeing people drop off laundry, peddle candy and cigarettes on the streets, and seeing people going to and from there and here (maybe if I watch for long enough I´ll figure it out), etc.

If you´re wondering why I´m not in Cajamarca (at the clinic) yet, I´m with you. As I´ve noted before, everything takes longer here. Best to let go of any sort of schedule (believe me, it´s not easy, but I see it as an exercise), and instead hold on to the absolutes...I do hope to do a trek to Machu Picchu, and I do hope to volunteer at the clinic in Cajamarca for some amount of time, oh and learn Spanish...all the other things, which I would like to do too, might fall to spontaneity and necessity--allowing for 3 hour lunches, getting unfathomably lost, doing tasks like getting my laundry done and treating illness and bugbites, and extended conversations with strangers. C`est la vie.

20.08.08: Traveling, especially alone, is weird because it strips away your suppossed reality and day to day ¨obligations,¨ and makes you face yourself without the facade of a routine. Your skeleton appears and you are given a glimpse of your tendencies and points of weakness--your cravings, your thought patterns, etc--and if you look hard enough and allow there to be enough space between thoughts, you start to see the little things in your life that create happiness and unhappiness. You really see how in actuality, the things that are making your life what it is: unhappy or difficult or whatever it may be, are entirely created within you. And the good, but sometimes hard news is: they are under your control. When you have the entire day, or days at a time, to do exactly as you wish (which is surprisingly harder than it may seem), you see that you can do whatever you want to do, always...and your choices and reactions are what shape your life.
Hopefully that makes some sense outside my own head...

I haven´t found a word in Spanish for ¨hang out.¨ (Spanish speakers if you know one...please enlighten me! You don´t realize how much you use a word until you try to use it in another language and there doesn´t seem to be an equivalent). I think the reason there is no word for it, is because ¨hanging out¨ seems to be synonymous with existing here. Literally in the past 2 days, all I have done is hang out...Yesterday Mayte (my cs host)´s friend came over around noon. We went to lunch (for a few hours), and then went back to her house and literally hung out on the couch until almost 10pm. I gather (at least with this group of friends--obviously I can´t make judgements on a whole culture based on them) that many hours are spent chatting on the phone, chatting on MSN messenger, watching telenovellas, and lounging on the couch chatting about relationships...oh the drama that thrives here around a thing called love....

21.08.08: Today I did it...I rode the bus....I´ve ridden the little buses like this in South Africa and perhaps elsewhere, I can´t remember...but it´s a whole different world when there´s a language barrier. And the problem with the buses is that you have to know where you´re going and where the bus is going. Today was moderately successful. I went in the direction I wanted, but at one point (thank god I was paying attention), the bus turned down a different road and I had to get off. But that´s the good thing--you can get on and off wherever you want, as opposed to traditional bus systems with actual stops. I have to say, it´s exhausting always having to be on guard--trying not to get robbed, trying not to get lost, trying not to get swindled into something, making sure your $ isn´t fake, and trying to communicate...so much we take for granted in our neat little daily lives.
And of course a trip to South America is not complete until you have a little car trouble. Yesterday when I was returning from Miraflores, my cab had to pull over because the hood started smoking....a lot. The driver jumped out and told me not to worry, the car simply needed some water. He pulled a big jug of water out of the back and dumped it in and/or on the engine, then pronounced it better and jumped back in. We chugged off at about 25 mph on the highway, and I searched for my seatbelt, lest we stall and get hit. My search turned up nothing however. The car was basically a skeleton with no sort of logical anatomy. I have to say though, I had a good time--I love the spirit of the old taxi drivers. I exclusively choose them (for saftey reasons too). We spent the ride rocking out and dancing to what he called ¨American rock,¨ but what I call ¨disco,¨ haha. I can´t tell you how much crappy music from the 70s-early 90s they just looove to play at loud volumes here.

22.08.08: Today I did manage to get out and see a museum. It was a fantastic exhibit on the last 3 decades in Peru, which if you don´t know much about Peru´s history during the late 70s through the 90s, was incredibly turbulent (to day the least). Governement corruption, kidnapping, mass terrorism, at least 70,000 civilians slaughtered (mostly in the countrysides), and general absolute chaos. My friend who took me, who is only 2 years older than me, talked to me about growing up with power outages, riots, and bombings very near to his home. It´s crazy to me that this happend in my lifetime when I was having the normal childhood--being a girlscout, playing kickball out in the streets until after dark, and walking to and from school safely. Of course, the same madness is still happening elsewhere in the world right now--in Gaza, in the West Bank, in Sudan, Iraq, Jordan, etc, etc, etc--as we sleep safetly under egyptian cotton sheets and our little ones enjoy waking up for a guaranteed 3 meals a day. We talked too about how the worst part of war isn´t necessarily over when the truces are called... the terror continues for generations, as children grow up parentless and traumatized by what they experienced. He talked to me about how in Ayacucho, where most of the slauterings occured, the children who were affected (seeing their families being killed before them and their houses burned) are now having children of their own and they don´t take care of them, because they don´t know how, as they were abandoned themselves. And another generation is broken.

It gives you another perspective on the people and their behaviors and habits. It´s easy to use your gut reaction based on your own experiences and background to slap a label on a culture--saying it´s dramatic or flamboyant, untrusting, macho, close-minded, or even something as simple as family-centered, but it totally underscores their experience, and lacks the understanding of how it came to be this way. Understanding some more of the backround, it´s easier to dismantle initial reactions and see the life through a different (less American) lense. People aren´t ¨dependent¨ because they live at home until they get married...they have a close and very strong connection with their (entire) families, perhaps because after having so many families ripped apart by external violence, they don´t feel the need to claim the independence we value so much. And maybe the men aren´t overbearing and dominant (as I´ll admit, it feels to me because of our high importance in individualism and gender equality), perhaps they are legitimally concerned about women´s safety--and rightfully so here! Oh, I could go on. And we´re only talking recent history, let´s not even get started with colonialism and external wars and slavery and ETC..

On a lighter note, right now I am having the thoroughly hilarious experience of sitting in an internet cafe with a bunch of school boys playing some sort of computer game. I am the only computer in fact not playing it. They are screaming at each other, clapping, jumping up, and generally being a kind of rowdy that would not be permitted in an American business. haha, oh geeeze.

Other thoughts on Lima:

My diet here is terrible. The meal schedule is much different and involves much more refined foods than I am used to eating. For the last four days, my diet has been about like this: cebada (a tea made from barley) and crackers for breakfast. Lunch around 2pm, which is likely to be potatoes of some kind and/or noodles and chicken, or a meat stuffed buttery empenada (I have given in, and am now consuming whatever sort of protein I can get), and some kind of pop, usually Inka Cola (a bubble gum tasting electric yellow soda). Dinner is around 8pm and is eggs or chicken and cookies, and some other kind of sweet drink. People do not generally drink water here, it`s pop or coffee or a juice likely to be made from a powder. If you are lucky, you get a refresco, made of super watered down fruit juice. And there are all sorts of starchy sweet things to be snacking on in between meals. Ick, sugar headache.

Another thing I have had to get over (still working on it), is being cold (a big change from Iquitos). As Americans we are generally used to having our body temperatures regulated for us, with heat and airconditioning, enclosed homes, and hot water...but here homes are open to the elements, hot water is more like `not absolutely freezing` water, and it`s all about layering. This morning I woke up at 7 and was so cold I found myself tensed into a little ball for over an hour before I coaxed myself out of bed in a foul mood. I braved a shower since yesterday I went without, too afraid of the cold water and the hour or more following of freezing with wet hair. But like many things here, it`s something you just have to let go of. In Iquitos and the jungle it was all about letting go of feeling dirty. Here it`s about letting go of being cold...trying not to hold on to the discomfort, and letting it just pass through you. It`s hard to get your mind outside of your body and ignore its demands to maintain its accostumed level of equilibrium, but again, it just takes some focus, and understanding that other people seem to be doing it just fine...And so the theme of this trip continues: just breathe, and go...