How Am I Supposed to Leave?

A few posts ago I mentioned that I may be becoming a minimalist. I'm really enjoying not having to worry about what I wear or how my make up looks. The girls here don't look like they wear as much makeup as the ones in the States, and they are still beautiful. The backpackers rarely even wear clean clothes so all the dressing up and selfie crap is nonexistent. I worry only about the plans for the day and who we are going to spend it with.

In Lima, my parents took my sister and I to a hostel before they left. My mom made a huge deal about how gross the place was. We ended up not staying there because we hopped on an overnight bus to Trujillo, but she drove me insane with the fact that a hostel was not up to par with her Marriott. Michelle and I made fun of it at every new place we stayed, thinking how much my mom would cringe at the thought of sleeping on a mattress on the floor or in a place that needed a little sweeping.

One of the girls I met in Huanchaco, a Dutch chica named Flor, invited us over for breakfast one morning. A random door on one of the streets opens into a courtyard-type space. In one corner is a sink surrounded by a little counter space, an old fridge, and a plastic table. Random baskets hang from the sides of the building for storage. Inside another door goes into the bedrooms and a bathroom. All of it is old and not kept up due the constant change of residency. At first, my thoughts were very negative. I was slightly grossed out at the condition of the sink and I noticed that the fridge was rusting. But after some thought and another delicious meal, I had a totally different mindset.

The French chef, Audrey, makes the best food I've had my entire life, no joke. Her kitchen is tiny. It's literally smaller than the size of my bathroom in Georgia. There's pots and pans everywhere and a fly trapper hanging right by the entrance. I was so surprised to see that the huge portions of artistic food I ate came from such a cramped space.

Last night we were walking on the beach and saw the most hippy looking VW bus parked. It's ends up that this Argentinian guy named Fernando has lived in it for five years straight, driving all over Central and South America. He makes these little instruments to sell as he travels and is completely content with this way if living. We drank mate tea with him and learned about his life and heard some incredible stories.

Living where I am from is a blessing. We have a huge house, people we hire to clean it, and Mom makes sure everything is spotless. It's great. But it takes some travelling to see that having all that does not mean as much as we, in the States, are raised to think. So many people live with so much less, and they might actually be happier than we are.

As an almost twenty year old, the last thing I want to be held down by is stupid things like nice, new clothes and a table clothe that matches the curtains. My sister and I were just talking about how much fun we have had and how much we've done the past few days. I love the small, Latin lifestyle of markets and simple houses. These people live to surf, to hike, to party, and to make good food without all the extra glamour that the world I live in at home is obsessed with.

It's Not Over Yet!

Figure 1: Chelly and I eating some of Audrey's amazing food.

I’m not quite sure how I got so lucky with stupid United flights that my sister, Michelle is sitting across the table from me in Huanchaco, Peru. We made it and have never been better. This weird little town is on desert land, but right up the beach where surfers flock all day. It has this weird weather that makes it looks a bit gross at times but when the sun is out, it has beauty that stands out from our typical Florida beaches. The people here are simple. Local families own restaurants or shops and their kids are always running around. The tourists are backpackers with nothing on their schedule but to eat good food and drink with friends. Some of them are here semi-permentally. They work at schools here to learn Spanish themselves, get paid very little, and spent their free time making new friends and going on trips.

Figure 2: Michelle and Kuku (Audrey's daughter)

We arrived here Wednesday morning after a night on a bus from Lima. We surprised a woman Michelle knew when she was here last year. The woman, Marcia, had been working out at a gym (Michelle had also gone to) when we peeked in. She was super excited and demanded we go straight to her house and eat breakfast. Within ten minutes of knocking on the door, I had met her husband and son, been shown into a room, and were sitting at a table with breakfast in front of us. The rest of the day was spent walking around meeting a ton of new people and trying to remember all their names.

We ate some incredible food by a woman named Audrey (pronounced Oo-drey). She is from France and worked in many famous restaurants before she realized that was not what she wanted. She came here and opened her own restaurant, so that she could have fresh ingredients and the freedom to make whatever she wants, without the restrictions of a menu (Figure 3). Every day she makes new things, and if you show up on time you get a huge plate of it gloriously presented for thirteen soles. Her husband is always around and helping too. I’m pretty sure he is a hundred percent Incan- mostly ‘cause he looks it. Their daughter is nothing but energetic at all times, running around and talking to all the customers (Figure 2).

Figure 3: One of Audrey's creations

Figure 4: Me and some school kids 

Actually, every place we go to that has kids, they end up sitting on our lap or having elaborate Spanish conversations with my sister (Figure 4). About an hour ago, a little girl named Daniella drew me pictures in my notebook in exchange for Patty Cake lessons. We had a blast.

Conversing with the locals and other South American travelers definitely helps my Spanish, although it is very embarrassing to pull out my dictionary to talk to a kid or have absolutely no idea what Marcia just said to me and Michelle is not around as back up. Sadly, we are only going to be here until next Wednesday, so for now I am attempting to cram as much Spanish into my brain as possible. 

Last Day in Lima

Yesterday was a very long day. I got up at the same time I always do but had to wait until 9:30 in the evening to go to the airport. To pass the time, we went to the museum of gastronomy in Lima. That is a museum dedicated to the history of Peruvian food. The museum displayed the entire scope of Peruvian food from quinoa to pisco. 

After that, we went to the Cathedral of Lima. It is one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen although the room with the archbishops heads was a little weird. 

Lastly, I went with Dr. Brown and his family to the beach one last time. The sunset was absolutely beautiful. It was the perfect way to wrap up the trip. 

Last Day in Peru

TUESDAY:

It's our last day in Peru, and it feels rather strange to consider the fact that in the next 24 hours I will be back in the United States surrounded by English-speaking folks. I have become accustom to the language barrier blocking small talk with waiters, grocery store clerks, and people on the street--will I remember how to properly converse without the existence of such a barrier?

Falsified Bread (Tuesday June 30, 2015)

In other news, our last museum tour was an assemblage of one of the best aspects of Peru: food. Museo de la Gastronomia is basically an entire building dedicated to the variety of cuisine Peru has to offer. Unfortunately, the realistic dish displays were made of inedible material.

Afterwards, we visited the Basilica Cathedral of Lima located in the Plaza Mayor of downtown Lima. I found the most interesting (and perhaps the most morbid, to some) section of the Cathedral the crypt, situated through a narrow staircase underneath the nave of the church. There were rows of unmarked skulls presented behind a glass window, as well as a deep trench filled with caskets a bit too minuscule for an adult body to fit in ... Eerie.

Baby Caskets at the Basilica Cathedral, Lima (Tuesday June 30, 2015)

Skulls at the Basilica Cathedral, Lima (Tuesday June 30, 2015)

Here is my final collection of Peru street photos. Tomorrow I will no longer have to listen to the conversations between cars, will no longer belong to the pack of too many humans fitting on too tiny sidewalks, and will no longer get to see the menu before I enter a restaurant. You will be missed, Peru.

Plaza in Lima (Tuesday June 30, 2015)

Shopping Streets of Lima (Tuesday June 30, 2015)

Ovalo Gutierrez, Mira Flores (Tuesday June 30, 2015) 

Streets of Mira Flores (Tuesday June 30, 2015)

Our Last Hostel, Mira Flores House (June 30, 2015)

 

Where Did the Month Go?

Figure 1: Day #1- Miraflores

It seems like yesterday I was excitedly writing "Peru Meeting!" on my calendar and anxiously waiting to hear what all we would be doing for the month of June. I would pretend to be really upset that I wouldn't be able to spend all summer with my friends in Florida or at home with my family working in a restaurant. As much as I miss them all, I knew and have now proved that this was the most exciting thing that could have happened this summer.

Figure 2: Miraflores

In a journal I wrote down things I wanted to remember like places we went and small occurrences. It started in January when I began preparing for this trip. Peru was the only thing that kept me sane throughout the tests and essays I had my second semester. I wrote a passage at the airport when we were sitting at the gate. Most of it was pure joy and disbelief that we were all actually following through with the plans.

One of the first pages has important streets written on it. This includes Arequipa, Arenales, Salaverry, and Cuba. Now, those are the first few in Lima that we needed to know in order to get back to the hotel, now there are so many I can't keep them straight. I have a receipt of "My First Peruvian Purchase," which was simply the drinkable yogurt Dr. Brown had talked about so much (I went on to buy a lot more of it). I also have my first public bus ticket taped in there. Its from our first day trip to Miraflores, which we will be back in tomorrow.

Figure 3: Graffiti

Mr. Taco, of course, made the journal. The ticket reads that my first meal at the stand was a Completo. Likewise, Nova Cafe is present on the next page. Numerous other restaurants were recorded, but my goodness, there is no way to remember them all.

Most of my writing the first week or so tracks my Spanish growth and getting accustomed to the city. I was aggravated that I couldn't understand people and think quickly enough to respond.

On one of the bus rides, an adorable elderly man offered me his seat when he was exiting the bus. He actually touched my arm to get my attention. This small little gesture  totally made my day and made me fall in love with Peru that much faster.

During our walks we saw a few protesters. All of them were peaceful and they seemed to be quite organized, with one person talking through a microphone or even an outdoor television set up. At one, while we were trying to decode the banners, a guy approached us and told us all about his beliefs and what he stood for. The problem was that it was all in Spanish, so I missed a huge portion of what he said.

At the zoo, we saw hundreds of school children who thought we were an extra exhibit. They loved trying to communicate in English and ended up taking pictures with us. I admit I felt a little bit famous.

Figure 4: Tiger at the zoo

These were just a few summaries from my notebook from earlier this month. All of these things feel as if they happened a year ago. Although I have an extra week or two in Peru after class ends, I am not looking forward to home at all. I am going to miss so much about this place, including the language, the people, the sights, and the sounds (which mostly consist of car alarms).

Weaving and Getting Ready to Head Home

Today was our last day in Cusco and we spent it doing what would have made me very upset when I was younger. We sat in a weaving class for 6 hours. But today was actually very enjoyable. I thought that we were going to sit through a long lecture and then weave for a little bit but we sat down for 3 hours before lunch and 3 hours after lunch weaving not stop (under supervision of course). We learned the traditional Inca way of weaving which is a long and tedious process. It took a while to figure out how to make even straight lines but eventually I was able to figure it out. I stuck to weaving straight lines because I wanted to finish so that I could take back what I made as gifts. I also lacked the skills to make very intricate patterns. Our instructors were very patient but very particular too. Mine wouldn't let me continue if the slightest thing was wrong. She made me correct it and start from where I messed up. That really showed the pride that the Andean weavers had in their work. For them, weaving was a way of life. It is as essential as breathing and it left a big impact on me. 

As we get ready to head back to Lima, I am reflective my of time in Cusco, Ollaytantambo, and Machu Picchu. These locations have brought many highs and many lows but I'm so thankful for every moment on this trip (well almost. The stomach sickness was pretty rough). 

This is what I made today 

Spinning Yarn Spinning Stomach

SUNDAY:

It's our last day in Cusco, and we're celebrating that solemn reality with a weaving class at El Centro de Textiles Tradicionales de Cusco.

...Well, some of us are.

Yogurt Helps the Sickly, Right? (Sunday June 28, 2015)

Michael and Savannah have already fallen ill this trip, so I suppose it's only fair that some pesky contagion attack my own immune system before heading back to the United States (equality can be a real bummer sometimes). I was able to get through the first half of the weaving class, but had to head back to the hotel after our lunch break. This ailment does, however, allow me some time to write this blog and further study the research for my final essay.

Weaving Techniques (Sunday June 28, 2015)

For the time I was present during the class, I found weaving to be difficult. One may be able to point this out by simply examining the intricate designs (including the not-so-hidden mathematical patterns) woven in traditional Peruvian textiles, but having to sit down and twiddle your own fingers into the correct yarn apertures while concentrating on not dropping the wooden wedge that separates strings of color while also trying to ignore the fact that you really need to use the bathroom makes one realize how labor intensive and attention-consuming the Peruvian weaving tradition is.

On a different note, Savannah and I went shopping for souvenirs and the like yesterday evening and I discovered bargaining to be quite enjoyable. I don't know of the median prices for most of the store items here, so I never really know if I'm getting ripped off or not, but being able to knock off two or three soles convinces me of a semi-self-controlled barter. There was this one particular wind chime I purchased depicting a bird, feline, and serpent which the pre-Colombian cultures used as motifs in their textiles and pottery to represent the heavens, the earth, and the underworld, respectively. I believe everyone should apply knowledge of ancient cultures to their prospective wind chime choices.

Peruvian Shopping Spree (Sunday June 28, 2015)

Symbolic Wind Chime, My Personal Favorite (Sunday June 28, 2015)