The Great Escape

I have always been a huge fan of the classic film "The Great Escape", Steve McQueen as the Cooler King was one of those characters that I as a kid I hoped to grow up to be, minus the jailing in a WWII P.O.W camp. The Cooler King was always calm under pressure, he constantly showed the utmost ability to lead, he was as clever as a fox and never let anyone stop him from obtaining his goals, which in the case of the movie was to escape from the P.O.W. camp. At 20 years old I like to think that I am on my way to living up to the standards of the Cooler King but I have honestly never been tested, I, up until this weekend, had yet to be thrown into a foreign position in which I had to stay calm, think logically and take what was thrown at me. Steve McQueen, prepare to be matched!

This weekend was originally going to be our time to spend a few days in the rainforest, in Manu, viewing all types of exotic animals and fending off malaria but a series of unfortunate circumstances forced those plans to change. Due to torrential rain and flooding in the Manu area SIT was unable to take us to the rainforest and instead they scheduled a trip north to the Amazon River area where we would spend a few days in the jungle city of Iquitos and take a day trip to an Amazon river community called "2 de Mayo" or "The 2nd of May", for a reason I have yet to fully grasp. Friday morning all of the students met at the Cuzco airport to fly through Lima and end eventually in Iquitos. After a slight delay in Cuzco and a 4 hour layover in Lima we finally reached Iquitos where we were shuttled by bus to the extremely basic, but thankfully airconditioned, Hotel Europa. After a quick walk around the stifling city and a meal of chicken and french fries at a local Polleria most of the students, including myself, made our way to bed in order to be well rested for the next days activities. Saturday was spent working with a group of student activists who focused on the rights of indigenous children. We watched various documentaries they had made and finally I got to try my hand at interpretive dance/body motion, which is one thing that I would not subject any of you to watching. The experience was eye opening and made me seriously question what I was doing when I was 15, 16 or 17 years old. At the same age that I was eating boxes on and boxes of Annie's, playing video games, and attempting to succeed in football, soccer, tennis, and XC skiing, not at the same time, these kids are marching in protest, changing the lives of local youths and putting a solid dent in the negative aspects of their country's society. Despite being 4 or 5 years older than most of the kids I was working with I could not help but look up to them and envy their passion and dedication...lesson learned.

The next morning my challenge to the title of Cooler King began. Our entire group was awoke at 5:00am to be on a bus by 6 headed for the river port town of Nauta. A 2+ hour bus ride landed us in Nauta around 8:00, the time that we had planned to hop on a boat for another 2 hour ride to the river community of "2 de Mayo". For reasons that were not quite clear, we were unable to set foot on our boats until between 9 and 9:30, putting us at least an hour behind schedule. The sun was smoldering and the majority of us had gone out to the local nightclubs the night before which created extreme irritation and exhaustion among the 25 college students. Finally we loaded onto the 3 boats, divided into 3 groups, 1 of 10 students (including me) headed by our director Ursula, 1 of 5 students headed by our director Sonia and 1 of 10 headed by our last director Donaldo. We all pushed off from the docks at the same time and began our journey towards "2 de Mayo", or so we thought. This is the point where I will have to split my story between what occurred among my group and what I have heard occurred within the other groups. Donaldo's group set off at a quick pace and was slated to arrive at the community first, my group was a close second and Sonia's group was just slightly behind us. Within 1.5 hours, of what was supposed to be a 2 hour trip, our boats engine had already died 5 times, which meant an average of 15 minutes or repair time for each "death". By this point is was 11:30 and we were already very late for our arrival. Eventually my boat's captain decided to pull over to the side of the river, tie the boat to a tree and attack the engine problem at full speed. 30 minutes of sitting in the outrageously hot weather led to what was believed to be a final solution to the engine problem. We once again began our journey towards the community, but of course the engine was not fixed and it continued to break down various times over the next few hours.

By the time we reached the community it was 1:30, we were 3.5 hours late, the feast we had been planning on attending had been canceled by the community so we were greeted by a number of frustrated locals, mostly children. As we docked and made our way onto land we realized that we were the first group to arrive, but seeing as our engine had died so many times it was not outside the realm of possibility that the other boats had experienced the same problem. We made the best of the situation and set about chatting with the locals, asking questions and getting to know the culture as much as possible. An hour later Sonia's group of 5 finally arrived having experienced the same problems with their motors plus running out of gas and having to switch boats with another local group. With increased numbers we began to interact even more with the locals, especially the children and started up a game of soccer between the 4 male SIT students and all of the local young boys. Outnumbered and most certainly outplayed, we lost the game 8-2 but had a great time as the entire village served as fans, although they only cheered when the gringos made a mistake, fell in the mud or had a goal scored against us. After the game we gathered up the teams and set about diving in and out of the river, splashing around and throwing around a volleyball. It was a great 3 hours or so yet even as we exited the river around 5:30 the third and final group of students had yet to arrive. Sonia and Ursula started to get worried and set about trying to contact Donaldo or find out what had happened to the final boat. Around 6 a heavy ran began to fall and we were all forced to find cover and buckle down until the rain stopped. Since all of our program's food was on the missing boat and since we had arrived too late to enjoy the community feast, the majority of us had gone without food for nearly 12 hours and it was beginning to become noticeable. In the midst of the rain word arrived from some locals that they had seen the final group of students in a different community and that there was a diplomatic problem with their departure from the community. Despite the torrential rain, Sonia hopped on a boat with the community Apu (president) and a few other local leaders and set out for the other community to sort out the problem. This is when my self-described Great Escape instincts really cam in handy, among the nervous pacing, worried chatter and fictional stories of an Amazonian kidnapping, I laid down on a wooden floor and promptly fell asleep.

By the time I awoke an hour later Sonia had yet to return and because she had taken one of our 2 boats we were unable to leave the community due to a lack of sufficient space on a single boat. By 7:30 it was extremely dark and we as a group had made a decision to prepare to spend the night in the communities school house since we could not leave the island, had no idea if Sonia was returning and did not have a clue what was going on with the other group of students. By this time a few of the men in the community had become sufficiently intoxicated and were making the environment slightly more hostile especially towards the women of the group. The 4 male students were contracted by Ursula to keep a watch out and run interference between the drunken men and the female students, despite how capable the SIT women are. So for the next 30 minutes or so we stood around in the dark discouraging a few drunken men from bothering our group. Around 8 o'clock we saw a pair of lights in the distance and rushed to the river shore to welcome our remaining students and directors back to the community. The boat docked and as we stood waiting to cheer, clap and in some cases hug, 3 local men exited the boat followed by no one. This was not our fellow students or even our directors and the local Apu but instead it was a captain and his crew who had docked and were prepared to attempt the voyage with us back to Nauta in the pitch black. It was rumored that Sonia, Donaldo and the other students had reunited and had already made it back to Nauta where there would catch a bus to Iquitos. Our group had the option of attempting the boat ride back or sleeping for a few hours and leaving at the crack of dawn. A group meeting led us to the decision to stay until the morning and make the voyage back between 4 and 5 in the morning. Without 100% certainty that the captain was reliable and would actually be back in the morning we were shuttled towards the school house to begin our night on the hardwood floor. Before we could fully settle into our "bedroom" Ursula was called over to a 1 community telephone and all of the students were moved out of the school house and towards the telephone as well in order to distance ourselves from the substantially more intoxicated local men.

The phone call between Ursula and Sonia was short and bittersweet, it consisted of Sonia telling Ursula that although she had found the other students they had actually not left for Nauta and were still waiting at the other community and that we were to as quickly as possible load onto the two available boats and meet them. Ursula rushed us back to the schoolhouse, we rounded up our things and made our way to the boats where the male students were divided between the 2 boats and I was for some insane reason put in charge of one of the boats. By 9pm we had left "2 de Mayo" and were headed for a community which was only 10 minutes away by boat. Due to the complete lack of visibility our boats were forced to travel extremely slowly and on top of that my boat ran out of gasoline about half way through the journey and was towed the rest of the way. After an hour of boat travel we finally reached the other community were reunited with the rest of the students, loaded up our gas tank and made our way towards Nauta. Over the course of the ride the story of the missing boat was recounted to us in Spanish by Donaldo, so although I did not catch every detail, the basic story goes a little something like this...

On the way to "2 de Mayo" the third boat became lost on the river and eventually ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere. While the captain, the one-man crew and Donaldo tried to figure out what to do, the students sat in the boat, snacked on the SIT food and eventually dove into the river where they got a chance to swim with the local river dolphins, something that I would have willingly been stuck on a boat in order to experience. After about 4 hours of sitting on the river a few locals came by and offered to tow them to their community where they could gas-up the boat and return to their trip. Happy as can be the group of students began to sing and cheer for their "saviors". Within the hour they had docked at the local community and were prepared to quickly acquire some gas and get on their way, and then issues arose. Apparently the entire region of communities on this section of the river had made a pact to keep tourists, and in general gringos, away from their area and out of their communities. The reason for their general hostility was that in the past the only gringos who had come to their communities had been representatives of the oil companies who had attempted to bribe their leaders, exploit their natural resources meanwhile the dumped the waste from the crude oil into their river, killing the fish and therefore seriously depleting their food source. I can not be sure whether or not the community thought that these 10 college students were undercover oil workers but in order to be cautious they refused to allow the group to leave until they proved that they were not a threat to the communities health and way of life. This could of course not be proven by anyone except the regional president Alfonso who lived in "2 de Mayo". When Alfonso finally arrived at the community with Sonia in took over an hour to explain that these were students on a trip to learn about the communities not to harm them. Sonia made a grand statement that we were there to learn so that one day in the future maybe one of us would return with the power and influence to help fight with the locals against the oil companies. Despite a general lack of faith in foreigners as well as the potentially corrupt local leader, which Alfonso certainly was not, the community finally decided to let the gringos leave, and that is when we finally arrived to meet them.

A slow trip back, with yet another stop for gas and a number of engine problems, landed us in Nauta as a full group at about 2 o'clock in the morning, 8 hours later than expected. Luckily a bus was there waiting for us and 2.5 hours later we arrived at our hotel in Iquitos where we promptly passed out on in our beautifully airconditioned rooms. Although we attempted to stay awake from 5am-7am in order to catch the morning continental breakfast, my roommates and I were asleep in minutes and woke up around 10:30 having not eaten in more than 24 hours. The rest of the day was spent reflecting, eating as much food as we could afford and lounging in our beds watching the Jersey Shore marathon on MTV and the tear-jerking movie Dear John, it was a very productive 8 hours.

For all that we went through on the Amazon river, for all the exhaustion, hunger and frustration I actually learned more about myself and quite a bit about local community dynamics and how much of a mess big international companies are causing. I now know that the negative effects of oil companies can reach into even the most remote regions, that my stomach cannot go more than a few hours without eating, that I can sleep in even the most uncomfortable positions and that I have a few things to teach Steve McQueen.

alpaCasey             

La Furia Roja vs. The Furiously Red Sunburn

Each of the past two Sundays I have spent the majority of my day experiencing first-hand major aspects of Peruvian culture. Each Sunday has been quite enjoyable although very different and have helped me more firmly grasp any Peruvianess I have developed over the past 1.75 months. Last Sunday was a day of futbol (that's soccer for all you Americans), which consisted of my family taking myself along with a group of friends to the local Cienciano game. Cienciano or CC is the only 1st Division (highest division) futbol team in Cuzco which means that everyone in the city goes nuts for the CC Reds. Although I had written my Junior Thesis at Wooster about race and class relations on the Peruvian futbol pitches I had never actually attended a professional game, and wow was I unprepared. Let me preface everything I am about to explain that in comparison to what I have read about the futbol games in Lima, Peru as well as in Argentina, Chile and various countries in Europe, the Cienciano game seemed pretty tame.

When we arrived at the stadium, a 5 minute taxi drive from my house, the streets were shut off like Yawkey Way and Lansdowne St.  and people lined the curbs selling an uncountable number of CC jerseys, hats, flags, and various other souvenirs, my parents will be happy to know that I didn't blow the majority of my money on any of it. As we got closer to the stadium my Dad started having quick conversations with various women who were wandering around the outer walls. At first I thought, hey my Dad is a really friendly guy, he has so many friends, but then it quickly became apparent that he was arguing with each woman trying to get a cheaper price for the tickets we were about to buy off the street, I mean why simply walk over to the ticket booth when you can haggle your way to a few soles cheaper. Of course being a pro at the Peruvian form of hustling, my Dad found one woman who was willing to sell us good seats for 15 soles a piece (about $6). With our tickets in hand we entered the stadium and sat on our cement benches ready to watch some futbol. By the time the game had actually started I had been offered countless cups of jello, a fact my friends found quite hilarious, as well as various skewers of meat, a couple chicken sandwiches, pork rinds and popcorn. The vendors sold their goods to me as if I was sitting past Pesky Pole at Fenway but everytime I looked for a Fenway Frank or a bag of salty peanuts I found myself staring at chicken hearts or papas fritas in a bag.

Right before the players took the field to take their first shot at scoring a roar came from one end of the stands, thankfully quite a ways from us, and out of a tunnel emerged dozens of young men dressed in red, singing as loud as their voices could manage. When they had finally all finished bursting from their hiding spot I caught a glimpse of the enormous banner they were carrying with them, it read "FURIA ROJA" or "Red Fury". Once again I was experiencing in person something I had only read and studied about, a real "barra", a real futbol gang. Over the course of the match between Cienciano and Alianza Atletico I came to more completely understand the role of a "barra" in Latin American futbol, their job was simply to attempt to distract and harass the other players as well as the referees as much as possible while continuing to show their undying loyalty through song, chants and screams. Despite the fact that Cienciano took an early 2-0 lead with a penalty kick and and beautiful header, La Furia Roja continued to throw water balloons at the referees, patrolling police and the opposing goalie. The vicious hurling of water balloons seemed not to surprise any of the victims, telling a sharp-minded bystander like me that this was common practice. At the half La Furia Roja took a break from tormenting the visitors and set about buying drinks and snacks to refuel for the second half. I took similar action and went with two of my friends to find some soda or chips of some sort. What we found was simply more meat sandwiches and a number of sweaty men yelling "POLLO" or "CARNE" throughout the crowded room. Eventually I gave up looking for something to curb my hunger and instead turned to quench my other urge, the necessity to pee. I quickly found the "bathroom" and made my way to the trough where everyone seemed to be relieving themselves. As I stood there, minding my own business, keeping my eyes straight ahead like Men's Bathroom custom says, a little boy stepped up beside me and began to pee, only he was a little less accurate with his aim. Before I knew it I felt wet running down my right leg, I quickly analyzed the situation and decided to cut my bathroom break a bit short in order to avoid inevitable drowning. With a soaked right leg I dipped out of the bathroom, which had no sink, and made my way into the sun to drown. Now I would like to say that as a little kid I was a sharpshooter at the urinal but honestly I think that would probably be a lie, so I apologize to any men who are reading this that may have been splashed on by me over the years.

The second half of the game had little more to offer in terms of excitement than the first, Alianza Atletico looked like a pee-wee team and Cienciano put 2 more goals into the net. Cheering like a maniac every time a ball came close to going in was a lot of fun but I would have really liked to see some type of competition, not an absolute crushing. Either way I loved the atmosphere and watching La Furia Roja in their prime was quite a sight. I walked away from the game happy, pumped up, a bit more wet than when I arrived, but smiling none the less. The next 5 days passed without any real excitement, by the time the weekend came around I was ready for another cultural adventure. The first came when I woken up at 7:00am Saturday morning to go with my family to a local recreation center to play a few hours of volleyball with some family friends. Not thinking ahead, of course, and being beyond tired, I quickly threw on my basketball jersey and a pair of shorts and rushed out the door. Within a few hours of playing volleyball with the skills of an 8 year old I began to notice that my shoulders and neck were getting a bit red. After 3 hours I was back home and as I stood in front of the mirror shirtless it was hard to tell that I had ever taken my jersey off. From the shoulder down my arms as well as the front of my neck had turned bright red while the rest of my body was as white as ever.

Even now I am in immense amounts of discomfort and have turned to Advil and massive bottles of aloe to bury my pain. The next day, Sunday, didn't really help my physical discomfort, although mentally and aesthetically it was amazing. Sunday morning I was up at 7:30 to get in the car and begin what would be a 12 hour journey around Peru to various ancient ruins. Traveling from Saqsayhuaman to Pukapukara and then to Q'enqo and finally arriving at Ollantaytambo I spent countless hours climbing over countless stones, snapping pictures of enormous and perfectly shaped boulders and being forced to race up every set of stairs we came across simply for the enjoyment of my family. Each set of ruins seemed even more amazing and impossible to construct than the last and by the end I was thoroughly tired both physically from racing up and down stone steps as well as attempting to take in all of the beautiful sights that I came across. My sunburned ached the entire ride home but it didn't really matter because I was in and out of sleep the entire time and after about 45 minutes was met with the biggest portion of chicken, french fries, fried bananas, rice and fried cheese that I had ever witnessed...Supremo Pollo. A full stomach later we were back in the car and headed for home. Before we got back to Cuzco though we had to pass through dozens of pueblo "road blocks", I use quotations because these road blocks consist of various basketball sized boulders and tree trunks thrown into the middle of the road. One of the many things I've learned in this country is that "road blocks" like this are very common in small towns throughout the country. They are generally used as a type of protest, attempting to halt the trucks of foreign companies from getting to their mines or factories where they can exploit the towns natural resources and labor, it does not always work but it doesn't seem to stop towns from trying.

Of course these "road blocks" were not aimed at us, despite the gringo sitting in the front seat, so it was easy enough to find help moving the occasional boulder that could not be driven around. Also handy was the fact that Peru has no traffic laws or lane lines that are followed so most of the logs and rocks were simply avoided by swinging into the other lane or up onto the sidewalk, what a ride. Back at home I was greeted by a warm cup of tea, a bottle of aloe and a soft bed, it was almost too easy to fall asleep. By the next morning, although still uncomfortable and covered in raw skin, I could not help but finally fully realize how lucky I was to be in this country, where in 1 day I could see a large chunk of a 600 year old civilization, while still managing an enormous lunch/dinner. What a life I live!

alpaCasey                   

Just Like My Childhood Except with More Rocks

Living for 6 days in the rural pueblito (small village) of Sibayo was one of the most rewarding experiences I've encountered thus far in my life, but no matter how amazing, no matter how rewarding, by the end of the 6 days I would have given my left leg for a hotel bed, a shower and a warmer climate. Lima gave me everything I dreamed of plus more, ending the trip on a high note and transferring us back to Cuzco more relaxed and, for some of us, slightly more tan. Due to a flight delay out of Arequipa we arrived in Lima later than expected and therefore were unable to consume the mass amounts of Chinese food that we had been promised days before. Our disappointment over the change in dinner plans was quickly subdued when we rolled up to the gorgeous, fancy and clean Tambo Hotel. By the time my head first touched the pillow I had completely forgotten about the space in my stomach that should have been filled with lo-mein and fried rice and was fast asleep. The next day we awoke to 75 degree temperatures and a beautiful, clear, sunny day. After dual lectures in the morning we were given free reign over our afternoons and each student promptly packed a small bag and headed for the beach. Being able to wear a tshirt, sandals and a bathing suit to the beach where I would be greeted by warm water in early March was one of the most mentally comforting experiences I've ever had. Unfortunately for me I did no quite realize that the water in Miraflores, the ritzy neighborhood where we shacked up, could vary from being warm and clear to chilly and green/brown, depending on where you went. So, wearing my Hawaii style board shorts, a pair of sunglasses, a huge smile and carrying with me a bubbly, excited attitude I arrived at the beach only to find that my group had mistakenly chosen a chilly green/brown area of Miraflores to set up camp. Refusing to be defeated by the sewage-like nature of this particular section of the Pacific Ocean I ripped of my sunglasses, kicked aside my sandals and jumped right on in. Within 30 minutes I was out of the water wearing a formerly white bathing suit with an attitude that could have been described as mucky rather than bubbly. Being intelligent, college educated individuals my group of friends and I quickly learned from our mistake and decided that the next time we wanted to go to the beach we would look for an area where the color of the water didn't make me look tan. 

The next day, after another set of morning lectures, I left the hotel with my friend Lucia to meet Tom Reily, a coworker of my Dad and the head of an ARD project in Lima. Having lived in Lima for many years and being a self-proclaimed "food lover", Tom took Lucia and I out to lunch at a classy and delicious seafood restaurant in Miraflores where he had us sample various local dishes including as ceviche (called ceviche Gandhi at this particular restaurant), swordfish and scallops. Coupled with a bottle of wine, some pisco sours and two delicious deserts the meal could most accurately be described as heavenly. Lucia, a 5ft tall, 100 pound college girl, out ate both Tom and I and spent the entire walk back to the hotel saying things like "Oh My God!" and "Yuuuuummmmm" and "That was the best meal I have ever even dreamed of eating", so I would venture to say that it was a successful lunch. Getting away from the group for some good conversation and a great meal could not have come at a more perfect time so I would like to extend my thanks to Tom for putting up with two ravenous college students for an afternoon and introducing me to the best ceviche I think I will ever have.

The next 2 days were spent touring the city and bar/club hopping up and down "Pizza St." which, on one fateful night, took us until 6:30am. Although exciting to walk outside a club only to be faced with sunlight and to eat a continental breakfast before going to bed, I am not quite sure that I will choose that again in the near future. Within 5 hours of going to sleep my roommates and I were woken up by a few girls who busted in and demanded we get out of bed so that we could go to the beach with them. Even though I had only rested for a few hours and knew that I was going to spend the entire day with sagging eyelids, I could not pass up another March beach opportunity. Its a good thing that I chose to hop out of bed and get moving because that day at the beach was one of the best days I have had while in Peru. Myself along with 7 other friends made the trek from our hotel to a nicer section of beach where we sprawled out and took a quick nap before rising to play frisbee. Not only did the fact that we were throwing a circular piece of plastic around attract stares but also the fact that most of the guys were wearing sleeveless shirts exposing our ultra-white skin created ample opportunity for the locals to yell "Gringo" and giggle as they walked by, such is life.

Towards the end of the afternoon it was finally time to venture into the water, take our chances and attempt to exit the ocean wearing the same color shorts the we entered it in. Now some of you didn't know me when I was younger, at the height of my obnoxious energy phase (which I believe I am still going through) but I have always loved playing in the water. Whether Lake Champlain or the Gulf of Mexico I could literally spend hours by myself just splashing around and diving in and out of the water. Since I left for college in Ohio, a land void of natural water sources to play in, my opportunities to indulge in my childhood fun have been few and far between so when I set my foot in that water in Miraflores and realized that it was warm and clean I honestly became a bit overwhelmed. For the first time in a long time I had the opportunity to splash around again and man did I splash! While my friends sat on the shore and mostly got their feet wet I had my own personal water party. The waves coming into shore were massively powerful and that mixed with the rock only ocean surface versus sand made the water party at times a bit painful but even that couldn't deter my joy. Finally after being bashed around by the waves for a while my friends dragged me out of the water, kicking and screaming, and we marched up to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the ocean to watch the sunset, a perfect end to a perfect child-like day.

Before we left Lima to return to Cuzco we spent one afternoon learning traditional Peruvian dances and practicing all types of acrobatic feats, most of which required lifting the other male students in strange positions and straining every muscle from my neck to my butt. At the end of the circus section of our lesson we put on some colorful, traditional ski-masks and spent a few hours dancing around in circles with a whip in hand. When we finally left the studio every student was sweating profusely, feeling outrageously tired but happy that they finally knew how to make a star out of whips and had the skills to acrobatically rival the Big Apple Circus. We were rewarded for our hard work with a dinner of Chinese food, FINALLY, and the freedom to spend our last night in Lima however we saw fit. By this point I was down to only 15 soles for the trip, not quite enough to fully enjoy a night out, so, thinking like the logical person that I am, I decided to visit one of the many casinos in our area. Using 10 of 15 soles to buy one hand of cards at the blackjack table I prepared myself double my money, maybe even triple it and walk out of the casino with enough soles to enjoy the rest of the night. Well, as is the case with most hands of blackjack, not including Rain Man and Alan from The Hangover, I lost all 10 soles immediately and left the casino with just enough money to buy a bottle of water the next day at the airport, you win some you lose some.

Even with the losing hand of blackjack and a number of bruises thanks to the combination of waves and rocks, I left Lima happy, relaxed and ready to hit the ground running in Cuzco. I have now been back for 3 days and it almost seems as if I never left, I didn't miss a beat getting back together with my host family and with classes staring up fully on Monday it will not be difficult at all to get back into the swing of things. In a few more months I'll be back in the U.S. of A and things like getting bashed around by waves and dancing in colorful masks will be exactly the kind of things I'll be missing from Peru, the little things, the important ones.

alpaCasey                 

The MammaLlamaCuyMummy

Cuzco is great, I love the city, I love my family and I especially the cheap taxis and the cheap snacks (and beer). Every once in a while though it goods to get out of the place that you love, like I left Burlington for Wooster and like I left Wooster for Peru. In my current period of life though I needed to leave Cuzco for a bit, to truly appreciate it and to find different cheap beer. Despite this necessity I find myself, at the tail end of my 2 week excursion, really missing Cuzco, the familiarity, and my mom who never lets me go without a full stomach. In two days I will be back in Cuzco and even without the beach and sun of Lima or the rural comfort of Sibayo, I'll be happy. I'm getting a bit ahead of myself though, Sibayo and Lima are not very far in the past and I am neglecting to describe my experiences in either.

Sibayo is a small, very small, rural town in the mountains of the Colca Canyon region. High altitudes, no housing heat and the wind funneling into the mountain-surrounded town means that I spent the majority of my nights in 6 layers, a sleeping bag and with my hands stuck up in my warm armpits...a bit sweaty gross but oh so necessary. I lived mainly with a 44 y/o woman, her sons and husband would be by occasionally but they worked and had school so I got to fill the "mother son time". In the village of Sibayo though "mother son time" meant backbreaking manual labor so while the 2 other female SIT students in my village got to cook a bit and mostly relax, my 5'11" frame was taken advantage of by my host mother. Each morning I would rise, eat fried trucha (trout) for breakfast, grab a little Soviet flag style sickle and hack at grass for a few hours in order to feed the Cuy's in the "Casa de Cuy"...and I did not even get to munch on the plump little buggers. Days of grass cutting, trout fishing, herb gardening and walking up and down cobble streets put me to bed each night by 8 pm, leading to my best 5 days of sleep in quite a while, the one positive coming out of not having hardware stores.

After 2 days of manual back breaking the SIT group from the high altitude towns, 8 of us in total, converged to hike to La Estancia, the alpaca herding community much higher in the mountains, about an hour away by foot. Hiking in altitude is not an enjoyable experience in the least but the beautiful scenery, the crossing of a rickety wooden bridge and the use of a slingshot/whip to throw rocks into the canyon made it pretty much all worth it. By the time we got to La Estancia it had begun to rain, go figure, and we were forced to observe the enormous alpaca population only briefly before returning to our beds or rock floor as a more accurate person would call it. Before leaving the alpaca farm, on impulse, the 3 men in the group plus our male director decided to hike/rock climb a nearby peak to get a better view of the surrounding area. After a few slips, a couple scares and a number of deep breathes we made it to the top and got a chance to experience some of the most amazing sights i have seen
in my long life. In order to appreciate it even more we gave a coca leaf offering to Apu, the mountain spirits, and descended the mountain hoping that our offering would stop a rock slide or a lightning strike or a cactus prick. The rest of the night was spent eating bread, drinking coffee and, by the light of headlamps, playing card games like Spit and the mid-west favorite Euchre. The next morning it was time to chop wood for breakfast, which the two countries boy could do, not so much our Philadelphia native friend, and then return to the alpaca farm to bless and shave the long-necked mammals. After a bottle of wine was splashed on the herd in a blessing to Apu and Pacha Mama (Mother Earth) we got to take a stab, almost literally, at shaving an alpaca. Not to brag but I think I found my hidden talent, after all those years of trying different sports really all I had to do was try alpaca shaving. When the alpaca was trimmed and looking fresh we began to hoof it back to our villages, an enjoyable down-hill hike with the prospect of a softer bed at the end of the trail.

On my last day in Sibyo I met up with the two other SITers in Sibayo and with the guidance of one of their host father and my host brother we marched an hour into the canyon to a site where we were met face to face with a young mummy, curled up and marked off in the side of a mountain. The mummy's name was Juanito and he was a young Incan child who had been sacrificed to the gods. Meeting in person the shocking realization that this was a common practice, that communities believed so utterly in their gods and their god's power to change their lives that they would kill one of their own, a child no less, was something that I will be working over in my head for a while to come. It was a nice trip though, hot, sweaty and required a lot of stair climbing but rewarding none the less. On the way back from our visit to Juanito we were met in the road by a younger cow wandering quite a bit behind his owner. Quickly remembering my sisters story in Africa about being headbutted by a cow into mud and taking into account the fact that to my back was a cliff into a raging river, I managed to plant my feet and stick my arms out just in time to catch the cows head as it bucked towards my chest... phew, thanks Lindsey.

The next morning it was a plate of trout, lots of goodbyes and an 1.5 hour ride back to our bus in Chivay. Leaving Sibayo had its ups and downs, I was heading towards Arequipa and Lima, two warmer cities where we were to be set up in hotels with heat, comfy beds and the opportunity to avoid a sickle and tall grass. On the other side though I loved the freeing feel of a town cut off from the rest of the world and, although I will deny it until I die from here on, I really liked eating 6 fried trout per day.

Last night I had a dream that I had randomly run into my sister on the streets of Sibayo during my time there. It was not expected and completely perfect, we had a classic Casey and Lindsey verbal interaction and she gave me priceless advice about how to go about making it through the rest of my time living in a foreign country. When I woke up I still had the feeling that I had seen my sister, that she had really been there and that it was all just another part of my Peruvian Adventure. By the time I realized that it had just been a dream it didn't really matter because I had already internalized all her advice and come to the realization that no matter what, whether I spend my nights freezing cold, stuff myself with a food I don't quite enjoy, crush my spinal chord under a bag of freshly cut grass or nearly meet a freakishly strong animal's head with my chest, I am progressing through life in a way few people get a chance to and enjoying myself every step of the way so why dwell on those little inconveniences that will probably set me up in the long run for something better, a good story, a toughened stomach or a chance to make a first date laugh. So, once again, I say thank you Lindsey!

alpaCasey 

     

Natalia and the Snow Storm

In approximately 16 hours and 19 minutes It will be my 12th day away from Cuzco on what can most accurately be described as one of the bumpiest, most exciting and generally most rewarding excursions of my life. Just about 12 days ago the entire SIT group packed up their hiking backpacks and hit the road out of Cuzco and towards the worlds highest lake, in terms of elevation, Lake Titicaca. 6 hours of driving through potholes, jolting up and down and trying to hold onto to the breakfast in one's stomach put us in Puno, the small city which rests directly on the edge of Lake Titicaca. Puno is one of Peru's poorest towns so before even getting a chance to bask in its beauty we were shocked into reality when the directors on the trip warned us to be extra careful because there was a good chance one of us would get mugged. With that happy thought resonating in our heads we all made our way out into the city center to find some lunch, being sure to keep our hands tightly wrapped around our wallets. All the meat I had been eating in the last month made me crave some vegetables, a salad, a veggie wrap, anything that did not used to roll around and play in the grass. Thank god I managed to find a sandwich shop that served a veggie sandwich, as I bit in to the generally tasteless vegetables I remembered what my host parents had told me back in Cuzco before I left, "Casey, no comes las verduras mientras en Puno..." taking into account tone and general attitude on this statement it can be roughly translated to, "Casey, my god! never ever ever eat any type of green non-meat substance while in Puno!!!"

That being said, I spent a large chunk of the next three hour boat ride dreading the possibility of returning my lettuce lunch to Lake Titicaca. The three hours on a small motor boat took us from Puno to the man-made reed islands and then onto Taquille, an indigenous island in the middle of Lake Titicaca where we would be staying the night with an indigenous family. The reed islands honestly were a little too much of a tourist trap. It quickly became clear that these people were playing up their culture to make money off of us and that some of the inhabitants had houses on the mainland and simply "worked" on the man-made islands during the day. The construction of the islands was fascinating but when 7 different brightly dressed women tried to sell me exactly the same generic flute I quickly became uninterested. The rest of the way to Taquille was tranquil, soothing and put me right to sleep. When we docked on the mainland of the island we were met by a handful of indigenous men, fathers all looking to retrieve their student for the night. All of our names were rattled off and one by one students began to depart for their homestays up a cliff side, lead by strong, hardened men. When my name was called I quickly scanned the remaining fathers expecting one to step out and lead me up into the hills but no one did. Then, from behind one of then tough old men stepped a tiny little girl who approached me, told me I was to go with her and began to walk off. This girls name was Natalia and she was a 14 y/o inhabitant of the island, she had been sent to come get me and I could not help but feel a bit cheated, I quickly learned otherwise.  Natalia was great, she was funny, friendly and extremely sharp for being only 14, she toured me around the island all day, instructing me on what I could do, constantly repeating the phrase "puedas caminar", "you can walk around", when I would simply be standing in one place waiting for instructions. Contrary to my initial thought of her being the wife of some sketchy older man, she lived with her mother and grandma in a gorgeous lake side house which meant I spent a lot of time looking out onto the lake as well as being fed a lot and babied by these older indigenous women...it was fantastic. At dinner that night I returned from the plaza without Natalia because, due to the language difficulties, I had interpreted her words as I should return home when I was done taking pictures versus her actual comment that I should wait around for her to go sell some corn. Once back at the house I sat down to eat, began to eat my first bowl of soup and was just about finished when Natalia arrived back and exclaimed with a smile "You escaped the Plaza!" I smiled said "Si, lo siento" and then asked her what that sound was coming from a cardboard box on the floor which had been rattling all if dinner. She responded by saying that it was their two hens who they locked in a box for the night, jokingly I stated that it was scaring me and in response to the gringo being scared of some hens she nearly spit her soup back into her bowl with laughter. I've almost never been so willing to be made fun of, I simply could not be mad at this girl for laughing at me, impossible.

The next morning after a night of Coca Leaf fortune telling and fire dancing with other indigenous families, we all left Taquille and headed back towards Puno, I of course slept the whole way. Once back in Puno all the students hit the computer, grabbed some snacks and geared up for a 6.5 hour drive to Chivay, the city which would act as a gateway to our next rural homestays in Colca Canyon. Within 3 hours of the trip the bus slowed down and pulled to a stop. I, not paying any attention to where we were assumed we were making another bathroom stop and since the last one had been so fun, all the guys took the opportunity to pee off of an enormous cliff, I didn't mind stopping again. When I lifted my head though we were stopped in a line of traffic, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the white stuff which I just could not comprehend. Snow was all over the ground, we were so high in the mountains that we had hit a snow and hail storm and since most Peruvian drivers were not used to this type of weather, silly people, we were jammed up in a traffic jam. For the next 3 hours we sat in the snow, threw snowballs, and ran up and down the snowy roads. It was refreshing, fun and cold, exactly the kind of stuff I was missing from home/Wooster. By the time the bus got moving again I was soaked from head to toe, smiling and curled up bare foot on my bus seat watching The Departed. Peru could not have been more like the U.S. at that point in time...perfection!