My last thoughts on Cajamarca

Misc. Notes de Cajamarca:

1. I´m pleased with my decision to not bring jeans for the 3 month trip, which I was hesitant about at first...but the stretch pants are really working for me considering the fact that my diet consists of an assortment of bizarre foods supplemented with a lot (lot!) of rice, cookies, crackers, and sweets. I have to say that I literally think my head is getting fatter, because my hat doesn´t fit like it used to, ha!
2. The signal for come hither is different...it´s actually our hand signal for go away (sort of flicking the back of your hand toward the person, shoooing them away)... it confused me the first couple times.
3. Name isn´t as important here it seems. When you meet people here, get your kiss on the cheek, and there may not even be an explanation of how you know the person who introduced you. It´s more important to know things like where you came from and are you married? Really, it´s not embarassing if on the 2nd meeting or an hour into knowing the person, you ask, what´s your name?? I feel like in a culture that´s more collectivistic, it´s not important what your individual name is or how you are called.
4. Another thing I´ve noticed about the culture, is, although it is very collectivistic and family is very important, there is very little trust and love between other people outside the family (perhaps with the exception of a random adopted gringa--I´ve felt almost nothing but love from the people here). It´s a little surprising to me, but at the same time, again, it makes sense considering not so long ago in the country, neighbors were killing neighbors. It definitely sets up a strange prisoner´s dilemma situation, where people kind of act like assholes to eachother because if they don´t, someone might do it to them...for example, my ¨mom¨picked roses out of someone´s garden the other day...I thought it was strange, but figured, hey, maybe that´s ok here! Moments later, a woman ran out of her house and started screaming at us, and we ran away! (That that I believe this is normal practice by any means). And everyone has little ideas about how to remain safe from ¨the bad people¨, for example, my mom told me to sit in the middle of the bus, because it´s more secure...? I personally have felt more offense from people being so mistrusting of each other though, than actual threats...Also in the clinic--and this probably has something to do with the fact that Peru's medical system seems to be about 30 years behind ours, there is little respect given to the patients from the nurses and doctors.
5. Though it has a different root cause, respect for the environment is not part of the culture either. And I don´t mean that people aren't driving hybrid cars or recycling, I mean that people literally just throw their garbage everywhere. Finish your bag of cancha or bottle of Inca kola, throw it on the ground. Have to pee, just go in the street. Walking your dog and he shits on the sidewalk, well that´s just fine. I literally got spit on once walking through the market...and I like to think that it wasn't because I was the lone whitey. But, labor is cheap and abundant here, so it´s a job for someone to pick up trash I suppose. It´s just sad seeing beautiful natural places like the Llacanora waterfalls filled with bottles and plastic bags.
6. I am going to kill the taxistas here....walking down the street, every step is punctuated with honks from taxi drivers. I realize they are just trying to indicate that they are available, but seriously, when I´m walking down the street with purpose, faced straight ahead or maybe talking on my (stupid little Peruvian) cell phone, I´M NOT INTERESTED, and as a result of this practice the city is crazy loud with honking (also because they honk at anything and everything). At night the honking slows down and is replaced by dogs, chickens, and distant or not-so-distant reggaeton music.

The other day I visited the Ventanillas de Otuzco, which are little window looking holes carved into volcanic rock, where the ancient Caxamarcan culture burried their dead around 50BC. Woah. It´s crazy how many little gems there are like this all over Peru...just go for a walk and you´ll find something totally incredible.

So now, I´m off to Chachapoyas (on Sunday), which is supposed to be just as fantastic and culturally significant as Machu Picchu, but not as famous beause it´s a pain in the butt to get to. The area houses several fortresses of the Chachapoyas people, like Kuelap. And of course, it´s yet another long (16 hour) bus ride from Cajamarca, on crappy roads. BUT it´s through the Marañon valley, which is bigger than the Grand Canyon, and is supposed to be breathtaking.


Marañon Valley above. Kuelap fortress below, built in the year 1000.

a special entry for our dear friend guinea pig...

Fried Cuy (aka guinea pig). Yes, I did eat this...

Festival of Santa Rosa, Patron St of nurses

Ok, the first weekend I was in Cajamarca I was told that we would be celebrating Nurse´s day, or the day of Santa Rosa, de Lima, the patron saint of nuses. I figured, ok, that´s probably like any of our many minor holidays that nobody really does anything for--Arbor Day or Columbus Day for examples. Oh, how I underestimated the ability of the Peruvians to party.

I looked it up--there are 3,000 festivals in Peru annually--that means there is partying being had in several places around the country every single day. And Peruvians don´t mess around, folks. Their fireworks, though quite terrifying, put all American efforts to shame....sure I was afraid that at any moment, the vast structures of bamboo and metal, which they attached fireworks to and set to flame mere feet from observers, would explode and consume the hundreds of bystanders who came out for the show, but it was spectacular! And at the same time that these structures were setting off domino-effects of fireworks as well as shooting fireworks up in the sky, several instrumental bands were playing, and people were dancing in the streets. It was a fabulous feast for the eyes. I stood close to one of the many family members who had come out for the evening and just let myself be mesmerized by all the happenings. Every so often, my trance would be interrupted by someone shoving a shot of pisco or a small, communal glass of beer at me.

After the fireworks ended, we stopped into a little food stall for some piping hot, delicious tamales. Then someone ran for a bottle of Licor Anisado (hard liqour made from Anis). The bottle and a small glass was passed around the circle, each person pouring a shot for the next until the bottle was gone. Never have I seen a bottle of liqour go so fast...and I again, I state, I´m from a Catholic family, that likes to have fun! Each time the bottle came to me, I tried to explain, look I´m a little Gringa, and I don´t have the tolerance of a Peruvian...but their desire to win the game of get the white girl drunk prevailed. We took to the streets after the bottle was gone to dance. The fabulous part about the family unit, is that I always feel safe. They are like personal body guards, always on the lookout for eachother.

In the US, it´s always the kids who stay out and party late, right? Well here, the first to retire to the car to pass out were the teen-agers, followed by me and the aunts, and finally finally finally, the uncles and my ¨dad¨stumbled to the car around 3:30am. I have to admit, I was a little worried about how much the drivers had drunk as well as the fact that we were in the mountains, but who was I to protest? These people are pros...so I closed my eyes and trusted, and sure enough we got home with no problems whatsoever.

Now, the party didn´t stop with one night...oh no. I woke up at 8:30 the next day for a parade of grand scale, followed by a lunch with the nurses and doctors at the clinic. The lunch was supposed to be at 2, but since nothing runs on time here, ever, we didn´t eat until almost 4...which left a lot of time for various cheers to nurses, and of course everyone´s favorite game--make Rachel, or as I´m called here: Raquelita, drink! It helps somewhat that I´m allergic to yeast and so cannot drink beer...even still they got me to take a few sips, and I could not get out of drinking 4 pisco sours...oh geeze. Nothing like being tipsy in the afternoon with a bunch of people who can´t understand you when you´re sober! Food was of course followed by dance: cumbia and salsa. The ``lunch`` went until about 6:10, when we realized, oh no! We´re missing the prayer service for Santa Rosa...so the bunch stumbled to the chuch, which by the way is no problem at all to be a little tipsy at chuch on a holiday, in fact, it might be the only way to go. Then around 7, I sleepily went home, while the rest stayed out...I´m telling you, we Americans pale in comparison to Peruvians in our ability to party. They work very hard and they play very hard.

LUNCH!

Other things I´ve been up to lately: Hiked to some waterfalls in the country; visited the baños del Inca for a soak in a warm sulfery hot spring that the Incan royalty used to bathe in; hiked through a rock forest called Cumbe Mayo that features pre-Incan water canals cut from stone; and of course acquired myself another Peruvian ``boyfriend.``

Tonight, there´s another fiesta for something or other...

Cumbemayo

Cajamarca continued

Can I please start this post by saying that the internet place is blasting 50cent, and I cannot help but giggle about the skinny Peruvian boy unknowingly blasting music about ganstas and hos. Another note: I´ve posted a lot in the past week or so, so you might want to scroll through and make sure you´re up to date ;)

Also, I wanted to note that I do read all the comments even though--disculpe me--I didn´t respond to them earlier. I´d love it if this could be a place for discussion should people choose (I´m looking at you Anne White´s spanish class ;-) ), and I know Markie volunteered to post an updated map of where I am in the comments section ...eventually.

Where do I begin? I´m in love with this old city. It´s been conquered, mined (for gold), used as a post for revolutionaries like Simon Bolivar against the Spanish, a home to the Incas with preserved hot spring stone baths, stone "chairs," and trails leading all the way to Cuzco, as well it was a battle ground during the war with Chile. Now it`s known for its cows who come when called by name, as well as its fabulous cheese and manjar blanco. Like all the towns, it has a plaza de armas, which is sort of the town center. The streets are windy, hilly, and made out of stone with lots of stairs, and the town is graced with several stunning Baroque churches.

My favorite part of the town is the mercado (the market) where you can buy literally anything you desire, from shoe insoles made out of local leather, to underware that says ¨stripper,¨to a live lizard, wheels of cheese, baskets of bread, school supplies, herbal medicine, fresh squeezed juice, or the regional favorite--fried guinea pig. One of the best things is that you can buy any number of things in any amount, for example I bought 6 clothes pins the other day. And the food in the streets is absolutely phenomenal. Not only is there a crazy variety due to Peru´s biological and cultural diversity, but it´s a fascinating experience every time. It´s wonderful to me that you can be high up in the mountains, yet be drinking a fairly local papaya, pineapple, and banana smoothie, because the jungle is next door. Similarly, they´ve got fresh seafood everywhere.

The challenge for me here with food (other than comsuming too much of it), is definitely the meat...In my pictures, which I am happy to say I finally have uploaded (see link below), there is a picture of a plate of food I was served...it is literally the most meat I have ever seen on one plate in my entire life...and I come from a midwestern Catholic family who loves their meat. You have to check it out. The other problem is the vast amout of carbs they serve in one meal. The big meal is at lunch around 2pm, and after you´ve been starving after your measly breakfast of crackers and coffee six hours ago, you wolf down the pile of rice and potatoes (present at every meal, and if you´re lucky another starchy thing like crackers, platanos, or yucca). Then you pass out, because it´s all your body can do to digest and overcome the inevitable blood sugar crash following. The big meal also consists of two courses, the entrada, which is usually soup, and then the main course of some kind of meat and the aforementioned mountain of starch, and is often accompanied by fresh juice. Then your last meal of the day is around 9pm, which again does not sit well for me...but I must say, it´s incredible how adaptable and intelligent the human body is.

Additionally, I find myself hanging around the food stalls, which is probably my 2nd favorite task, because it´s just too fun. People are always surprised by my presence and ask me all sorts of questions. It´s a fabulous experience standing around in the street, sharing your drink or snack with the other people taking a break in their day, and watching the bustling around you. My favorite treat is definitely the warm drinks--either of Quinoa (a grain), maca (a jungle herb), or a special ¨emolient¨ made of aloe, alfalfa, honey, linseed, limon, bitters, and potentially other things. Some of the things I tend to grab to eat are cachanga--fried dough stuffed with cheese; any array of pastries filled with carmely manjar blanco; these little speckly eggs that the vendor peels, sprinkles with salt and puts in a plastic bag with a tooth pick; and chancha--Peruvian popcorn, which is kind of like corn-nuts. It´s no wonder there´s a verb in Spanish that literally means to get fat or fatten up: engordar.

Drinking an emolient

Special note for when you´re out and about: bring toilet paper, because nowhere has it, and be prepared to squat...and throw your TP in the trash. None of this is new to me, living in Bali for a summer (as well as other places...in fact, I feel like outside the US, it´s pretty common that the plumbing can´t handle TP). Because of the tp in the trash, the bathrooms have an unmistakable smell of yuck, but at least most of the toilets flush via handle and you don´t have to pour a bucket of water in the bowl!

On to family time! Family is very important here. Every Sunday the family goes out to eat together, sometimes just the immediate family, sometimes with a mixing of siblings, brother or sister-in-laws, aunts, uncles, cousins etc. It´s amazing to me too that when they go out at night, it´s always with family. We went to a festival last weekend, which will be it´s own blog entry eventually, and it was with all various family members. I was amazed there were no friends in the group, and especially that the 15 year old didn´t go with her friends or bring any along. That doesn´t really happen in the US. Sure we get together with our families to celebrate holidays and other things, but for the most part we go out with our own friends. Also on a semi-related note, you always always always greet people here: one kiss on the right cheek between girls and girls and guys, and handshakes between men. The handshake has sort of died out in the US, unless you are meeting someone for the first time, and even then, especially with the younger crowd, it´s often not used anymore. I have to say I enjoy the intimate greetings, but I still haven´t figured out whether I´m suppossed to kiss my ¨dad¨on the mouth or not...it kind of seems like that´s what is done in this particular family, but it´s hard to tell, haha, so every single time we greet each other, it´s a tad awkward. Oh well.

Well here they are, my photos, as well as another link for Rachel Sandler´s photos who was with me in Iquitos: and if you have trouble viewing them, email me, and I will give you my password if you promise not to order a bunch of pictures :)http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=238727511/a=43035390_43035390/t_=43035390
http://www1.snapfish.com/share/p=758301220135526518/l=418895881/g=14174425/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB
Also, here´s a fabulous video of Patch Adams, in the airport coming back from Iquitos (in english!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1kRywcN_4wM&feature=related

besos y mas besos, Rachel