Monday morning, after getting in late from Puno and then staying up late talking to Mleanies´ parents, I woke up early to go build stoves. We met at the gas station and took a combi to a little town about 10 minutes away (in the opposite direction of Yanahuara) called Yucay. Our first stove was in a rather well off house that sportted two cows, a horse, a bunch of dogs, three ducks and a gaggle of adorable baby chickens. And, for the first time in my history of building stoves, I built a stove outside. Apparently, the outside part where the stove is located will eventually be a new kitchen.
The stove took about an hour and fiftenn minutes, after which Gianna (another volunteer who had helped to build the stove) and I went to Yucays´ municipality, where we were to meet Freddy, the stove coordinator, who would tell us where our next stove/house would be. Ginanna and I followed a set routine that we´d created our first day doing stoves together. We went to a little cornerstore, bought bread and cheese from a very nice lady, and then went to eat it (this time along with a neon yellow Inca Cola) on the steps of the municipality. We waited, but Freddy didn´t show up. It dawned on us that a new group had arrived that morning, and that he was probably busy with them, so we kept on waiting. In time, I began to knitt. A bit later a police man walked out of the municipality and told us about how he had worked at Machu Pichu and in Cuzco, but liked Yucay better. He lived with his wife in teh country side surrounding Yanahuara (but had never heard of Durazno Ti´kay) and, while they had been careful about not having kids at first, they now wanted kids but couldn´t seem to have any. They were both going in for impotency testing in about a week.
This is something that has happened to me a lot here: people are very open with very personal information after knowing me for just a short time. One of my women confideded her mothers´ illness in me a day after we met, and people all over just seem to tell me things that tehy would not tell me in the states. It´s a little hard for me to decide how to act in these instances.
After waiting for two hours, and deciding that even if Freddy came at that very moment we wouldn´t have time to make another stove, Gianna and I headed back to Urubamba.
In the afternoon I continued to read a book on Chile that is required for my study abroad program.
Tuesday we had a meeting with the women of Durazno Ti´kay where we worked on, once again, on the Business Plan. I think we got a lot done; when we finalized a system of fines for not complying with quotas we finally finished the second section (of three). The section was “fortalizar las habilidades de la asociacion y las mujeres en negocios” (strengthen the abilitis of the asociation in regards to business) and included procedures on how yarn will be bought, what activities are necessary to be “organized,” what classes are necessary and other basic things (attend meetings, start keeping track of income and expenses, etc.) After being here for so long, and watching the decisions of the group, I´ve realized that I´m very invested in the group, and that I really believe in the power of this business plan. Because of this, my goals for the rest of my time have shrunk from lofty ideas to the simple pleasue of finishing the business plan and knowing that the women, and future volunteers, have a framework in which to focus their efforts. Because this is my goal, the work we did on Tuesday made me immensely happy.
Wednesday was a particularly cool day because of two things. First, a bunch of the peopel working on health campaigns were heading over to see how water filters that ProPeru is producing are made. I tagged along and got to check it out. ProPeru has decided to make Potters for Peace models. They´re effectively clay pots with tiny holes in the clay to let water seep out. On the inside they´re coated with coloital silver (which, every now and then, volunteers have to bring through Peruvian customs). The coloital silver kills bacteria while the tiny holes in the clay traps parastes. The only thing the filters do not kill are viruses (but neither do most developing world water treatment systems). The machiene to make these filters is ahuge industrial chunck of iron in someones back yard. It requires a lot of man power to move the pieces.
To get the mud used to make the pots the right consistancy is a job within istelf. The mud must be mixed throughly (three hours by hand) and must be mixed with finely ground sawdust (also a job done by hand) until it is perfict. For all of these constraints, I cannot for teh life of me figure out why ProPeru chose the Potters for Peace method. The method, whcih is used throughout Latin America, was designed for locations where mud was a easily acessable resource and where minimal work (into creating mud, at least) was required; that´s the beauty of the system. I think a biofiltration system (making use of rocks, sand and dirty water, whcih are all easily acessable in the Sacred Valley) would have worked much better for this area. Still, it was intersting to see the process.
The second thing that made the day exciting was my excursion to the second market, primarily a livestock market. There were guinea pigs, ducks, rabbits, sheep, pigs, cows and every other manner of edible animal. There was also a used colthing market where I got an awesome Landsend jacket (it´s winter in Chile) that cost the equivelent of US 10 dollars.
Thursday we planned to give the women a break from the business plan; they had been working on it for the last three meeting sessions. We planned a fun activity that combined yoga and team-building (courtesy of Katy, who´s a counselor) and and Englsh class to review basic business English and add in a few new vocabulary words. However, when we got the the meeting, the women were in the middle of deciding who owed what fines (as per the business plans fine system) for the moth of July. The discussion was spurred by the arrival of two women, MIA up until that point, who had somehow herd that there had been a donation of yarn, and wanted to take part of the free material. The women were divided on whether the yarn should be given out, whether the women should be made to pay fines, or whether the women should be kicked out of the group for their habittual absence.
What happened next was incredible- the vice president of the group decided that all women present should speak up with their opinions and then a vote should be taken. Everyone waited patently and listened as all member of the group said what they thought was fair. Katy and I did nothing but watch. The whole process reminded me of traditional Roman democracy (minus only the landed men being able to vote part) in which each person in the community was entitled and encouraged to give her oppinion. It was truely the most egalitarian decision making system I have ever seen.
In the end, the women decided on reduced fines for the two who had been absent, and after the fines were paid gave the women their yarn. The dicussions took the whole meeting time, so we had to postpone our activities until later.
Friday was, effectively, the culmination of my work here. The business plan was finished, with provisions for a very, very basic health insurance, a bank account, classes focusing on empowerment, leadership and relaxation and a marketing plan. I could not have been happier with how the plan turned out; it gave the women huge responsibilites to insure their own sucuess, the suport of ProPeru, timelines in which to complete each enumerated task and a living doccument that could act as a guide, but be changed when necesary. The combi ride back to Urubamba was complete euphoria.
As soon as the business plan is typed up in pretty Spanish, I´ll post a copy.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Puno and Lake Titicaca
Last weekend I headed out to Lake Titicaca, 7 hours away from Cuzco.
I took a night bus and got in at 5am, just in time to take a walk along the lake and see the sun rise, whcih was beautiful (for the most part). In Puno there´s something of a no-mans-land inbetween the lake, littlered with bottles, wrappers and the like. I was a but surprised by it, given that Puno is such a big tourist city. It was interesting to see how the locals converted this area into their own park of sorts. As early as 6am there were boys playing soccer and a woman getting yarn ready to knit on the stark area of land between the road and the lake.
I walked up to the main plaza to get a sense of the city, checked out some tourist agencies and booked a trip to Sillustani with one of them, and then headed back down to teh docks at about 8am. I got on a boat heading to the Uros Islands, floating islands made entirely of reeds. Behind me, a noisy group of high school kids got on the boat, and I thought the trip would be ruined for me by their chatter. It turns out, the school group was the luckliest thing that could have happened.
The group had arranged to visit three islands and have guides at various islands explaning this and that. Because I happened to be on their boat, they let me tag along and listen to their guides. And, it turned out they were from Urubamba! By the end of the tour we were all friends and they invited me to come with them on the rest of their tour (which I declined, I already had tickets for my own tour). I haven´t seen any of them in Urubamba yet, but I´m just waiting for the day taht someone calls ¨Julia!¨ and I turn to find a high school class waving at me.
The idlands themselves are fascinating. They are made entirely of reeds, which need to be replenished every 15 to 30 days. You sink into the reeds as you step, but everything is very sturdy. Unless you get too close to the edge of an island (where there is no reinforcement, because you´re not expected to walk in that direction) which, of course, I did by accident. In this case, the island drops perceptibly and you have the feeling that you´re standing on a sinking raft.
Surprisingly, some of teh idlands have solor pannels, electricity and running water. Apparently, Fujimori visited the islands (he was the only president to do so,) staide a night and offered the islanders bits and pieces of modern technology. The result is that, even though he´s now serving a 6 year prison sentence for various abuses commited while in office, teh general reaction of teh islands is that he was the best president in modern history.
The islands were origionally built to escape from war-like people on the main land (or so says my guide book) but now, sadly, it seems as though they were build for tourism. Origionally surviving on fishing, the islands now rely heavily on tourism. Pretty much every woman has become a crafts-maker, trying to sell her wares to visitng tourists. The islanders charge for taking pictures, and some capture endangered birds to show to tourists, and then charge for pictures with the birds or for holding the birds. The reliance is disgusting. It´s almost impossible to enjoy the islands for their architectural ingenuity because you´re constantly being heckled to buy this or buy that.
After my tour of the islands I headed back to the main plaza, intending to visit some museums, but discovered that they were all closed. Instead, I sat in the plaza and tried to read. As I was reading, a pack of shoe-shine boys, from ages 9 to 12, came up to me and tried to pursuade me to get my shoes shine (I was wearing hiking boots). After about 15 minutes of firmly saying no, they gave up, and instead began to chat with me about this and that: the US, fútbol, school, etc. It was fun to talk to them for about an hour. I think I got a better sense of life for kids here through our talks.
At two I headed to a tour of Sillustani, funeral towers from Incan and pre-Incan cultures. Along the way I met a sociology major from Lima, who was also headed for teh tour, it´s so strange the people you meet. The towers were majestic, if a little odd. They encorporated the typical Incan block cutting/placement method, whereby there´s no mortor; blocks fit perfictly together. t was incredible, because teh circumferance at the top of the towers was larger than that at the bottom of the twoers, meaning that some serious craftsmanship went into building the towers.
There weren´t just towers, however. The site is a perfict example of pre-Incan hierarchy: while rullers and other VIP´s were laid to rest in towers (along with their servants, wives and concubines), the rest were burried in the ground, where they could be walked on.
After the tour I made my way to Juli, about 1.5 hours away, on the edge of the lake, were I turned in early. My sleeping arrangements were fairly comical. The one decent guest house in Juli is a family-run affair and, as there were no extra rooms, I was put in a storage-room off of Grandma´s room. Grandma is a character. Primarily Quecha speaking, she listened to Quecha radio for a good deal of the night, slept in her traditional skirts, and kept her many top-hats in the storage room (I got a kick out of looking at them and trying them on). She offered to make me breakfast, was hard-of hearing when I told her I was fine and then proceded to ask me where I was from about five times. After she decided I was from Europe she told me about her adventures to Spain and Sweeden, where she had been invited for various artseans´ fairs. When I got up to leave in the morning she was all business: give me the 15 soles, now (she said it from her bed, and didn´t bother to get up at all during the transaction). It was an interesting experience.
I decided to stay the night in Juli to visit its four colonial churches. Because of the churches it is known as the ´Rome of Peru.´ It also has truely breath-taking views of the lake, especially in early morning. I got to all of the churches, entered one for part of mass and stayed at a curmbling and dilapidated church for a good deal of time, taking in its beauty. By 9am I was redy to go (I had got up at 6) and made my wat through a very interesting market to the combi station.
I headed back to Puno and, from Puno, to Juliaca, a fairly ugly town. I walked around its huge market, a great contrast from the tiny on in Juli, and happened apon a casino in the process. I went in, lost 2 soles at the slot machienes, but was able to oserve a very strange casino-culture while I was losing my 70 cents American. There were an equal number of men and women in the casino, which I found strange, but what I found stranger was that there were a good ammount of people in traditional dress also at the casino. It was a sight to see: women in their many skirts, little bowler hats atop their heads and delicately embroidered tops playing poker machienes or slot machienes. And these weren´t young women, but women that must have been in their late fifties or early sixties. I was reminded of the rampent gambling addiction on Indian Reservations in the US. But, of course, I have no idea what that is like here.
From Juliaca I caught a six-hour bus back to Cuzco. The views, especially at sunset, were beautiful. I got back to Urubamba at 9 and headed to a hotel to see a freinds parents, who happened to be staying in Urubamba. they were a welcomed sight from home, and checking out their (upscale) hotel was an interesting contrast to my acomidations the night before (and in all the places I´ve traveled).
All in all, a good weekend, although I would have liked to stay the night on one of the less touristy islands. Next time...
I took a night bus and got in at 5am, just in time to take a walk along the lake and see the sun rise, whcih was beautiful (for the most part). In Puno there´s something of a no-mans-land inbetween the lake, littlered with bottles, wrappers and the like. I was a but surprised by it, given that Puno is such a big tourist city. It was interesting to see how the locals converted this area into their own park of sorts. As early as 6am there were boys playing soccer and a woman getting yarn ready to knit on the stark area of land between the road and the lake.
I walked up to the main plaza to get a sense of the city, checked out some tourist agencies and booked a trip to Sillustani with one of them, and then headed back down to teh docks at about 8am. I got on a boat heading to the Uros Islands, floating islands made entirely of reeds. Behind me, a noisy group of high school kids got on the boat, and I thought the trip would be ruined for me by their chatter. It turns out, the school group was the luckliest thing that could have happened.
The group had arranged to visit three islands and have guides at various islands explaning this and that. Because I happened to be on their boat, they let me tag along and listen to their guides. And, it turned out they were from Urubamba! By the end of the tour we were all friends and they invited me to come with them on the rest of their tour (which I declined, I already had tickets for my own tour). I haven´t seen any of them in Urubamba yet, but I´m just waiting for the day taht someone calls ¨Julia!¨ and I turn to find a high school class waving at me.
The idlands themselves are fascinating. They are made entirely of reeds, which need to be replenished every 15 to 30 days. You sink into the reeds as you step, but everything is very sturdy. Unless you get too close to the edge of an island (where there is no reinforcement, because you´re not expected to walk in that direction) which, of course, I did by accident. In this case, the island drops perceptibly and you have the feeling that you´re standing on a sinking raft.
Surprisingly, some of teh idlands have solor pannels, electricity and running water. Apparently, Fujimori visited the islands (he was the only president to do so,) staide a night and offered the islanders bits and pieces of modern technology. The result is that, even though he´s now serving a 6 year prison sentence for various abuses commited while in office, teh general reaction of teh islands is that he was the best president in modern history.
The islands were origionally built to escape from war-like people on the main land (or so says my guide book) but now, sadly, it seems as though they were build for tourism. Origionally surviving on fishing, the islands now rely heavily on tourism. Pretty much every woman has become a crafts-maker, trying to sell her wares to visitng tourists. The islanders charge for taking pictures, and some capture endangered birds to show to tourists, and then charge for pictures with the birds or for holding the birds. The reliance is disgusting. It´s almost impossible to enjoy the islands for their architectural ingenuity because you´re constantly being heckled to buy this or buy that.
After my tour of the islands I headed back to the main plaza, intending to visit some museums, but discovered that they were all closed. Instead, I sat in the plaza and tried to read. As I was reading, a pack of shoe-shine boys, from ages 9 to 12, came up to me and tried to pursuade me to get my shoes shine (I was wearing hiking boots). After about 15 minutes of firmly saying no, they gave up, and instead began to chat with me about this and that: the US, fútbol, school, etc. It was fun to talk to them for about an hour. I think I got a better sense of life for kids here through our talks.
At two I headed to a tour of Sillustani, funeral towers from Incan and pre-Incan cultures. Along the way I met a sociology major from Lima, who was also headed for teh tour, it´s so strange the people you meet. The towers were majestic, if a little odd. They encorporated the typical Incan block cutting/placement method, whereby there´s no mortor; blocks fit perfictly together. t was incredible, because teh circumferance at the top of the towers was larger than that at the bottom of the twoers, meaning that some serious craftsmanship went into building the towers.
There weren´t just towers, however. The site is a perfict example of pre-Incan hierarchy: while rullers and other VIP´s were laid to rest in towers (along with their servants, wives and concubines), the rest were burried in the ground, where they could be walked on.
After the tour I made my way to Juli, about 1.5 hours away, on the edge of the lake, were I turned in early. My sleeping arrangements were fairly comical. The one decent guest house in Juli is a family-run affair and, as there were no extra rooms, I was put in a storage-room off of Grandma´s room. Grandma is a character. Primarily Quecha speaking, she listened to Quecha radio for a good deal of the night, slept in her traditional skirts, and kept her many top-hats in the storage room (I got a kick out of looking at them and trying them on). She offered to make me breakfast, was hard-of hearing when I told her I was fine and then proceded to ask me where I was from about five times. After she decided I was from Europe she told me about her adventures to Spain and Sweeden, where she had been invited for various artseans´ fairs. When I got up to leave in the morning she was all business: give me the 15 soles, now (she said it from her bed, and didn´t bother to get up at all during the transaction). It was an interesting experience.
I decided to stay the night in Juli to visit its four colonial churches. Because of the churches it is known as the ´Rome of Peru.´ It also has truely breath-taking views of the lake, especially in early morning. I got to all of the churches, entered one for part of mass and stayed at a curmbling and dilapidated church for a good deal of time, taking in its beauty. By 9am I was redy to go (I had got up at 6) and made my wat through a very interesting market to the combi station.
I headed back to Puno and, from Puno, to Juliaca, a fairly ugly town. I walked around its huge market, a great contrast from the tiny on in Juli, and happened apon a casino in the process. I went in, lost 2 soles at the slot machienes, but was able to oserve a very strange casino-culture while I was losing my 70 cents American. There were an equal number of men and women in the casino, which I found strange, but what I found stranger was that there were a good ammount of people in traditional dress also at the casino. It was a sight to see: women in their many skirts, little bowler hats atop their heads and delicately embroidered tops playing poker machienes or slot machienes. And these weren´t young women, but women that must have been in their late fifties or early sixties. I was reminded of the rampent gambling addiction on Indian Reservations in the US. But, of course, I have no idea what that is like here.
From Juliaca I caught a six-hour bus back to Cuzco. The views, especially at sunset, were beautiful. I got back to Urubamba at 9 and headed to a hotel to see a freinds parents, who happened to be staying in Urubamba. they were a welcomed sight from home, and checking out their (upscale) hotel was an interesting contrast to my acomidations the night before (and in all the places I´ve traveled).
All in all, a good weekend, although I would have liked to stay the night on one of the less touristy islands. Next time...
Monday, August 11, 2008
Short Week, Lazy Weekend, New Week
The week after Dias Patrias was only three days, but I think pretty much everyone felt as though it should have been shorter.
Firstly, my Quechua teacher, who I was supposed to begin lessons with on the Wednesday we got back, had decided to continue traveling, so I kept up with the Spanish instead of switching. Secondly, we had fairly poor attendance from Durazno Ti'kay on Wednesday and Thursday, and I think we only had good attendance on Friday because it was Michelle's last day at work.
Wednesday we were planning to do a lesson on competition (and what we could do to beat it) and brainstorm things to add into our business plan related to competition. We were hoping the women could come up with some new ideas for products they could create that were not already readily available on ever street corner of Cuzco. However, only four women showed up. The combination of just coming back from a holiday, plus a funeral in the town, was a bit prohibitive for the other women. We ended up just sitting on the patio (occasionally being amused by two dogs having sex) and chatting about competition. Surprisingly, given the small number of people we had and sense of sluggishness, the discussion turned up a lot of good ideas, although not about how to beat the competition. Most notably, the discussion reanimated a previous discussion over the various benefits and disadvantages to having a quota system. When that previous discussion had been had quotas had been rejected outright. However, as soon as the idea was brought up a second time (and this time from one of the women, not from one of the volunteers) the idea was seen as positive.
I also got a good sense that day for the prise of materials here. Apparently, a cone (about a kilo) of alpaca wool mixed with sheep wool is 37 soles (about 14 USD) while a cone of 100% alpaca wool is around 110 soles, approximately 40 dollars.
Thursday we had a slightly better attendance rate, eight women, and did a lesson on the color wheel and reviewed some basic business English. The color wheel lesson was all about how to effectively combine colors in combinations that are appealing to the womens' target audience: tourists. It had been prompted by a poncho that was neon orange with neon green accents (enough said). In English we reviewed a basic conversation one might have between a tourist and a woman selling her wares. We went over the phrases "how may I help you?" "what are you looking for?" "what do you like?" "how much is it/that?" and "it/that is X soles." It was a little difficult for the women to grasp the phrases, and pronunciation in English is always difficult for them, but I think it was helpful. To practice, we had the women partner and go through a basic interaction using the above phrases. It amused them to pretend to sell goods to each-other, and it especially amused them when I was the 'seller' and they were the 'buyer'.
Friday we started off with some yoga, or at least what we call yoga. It's effectively a mixture between movement activities and basic stretching that you would do as a part of a high school team. However, we were interrupted when two women said that the food for Michelle's despedida (good-bye party) was ready. It was a really sweet gesture, even if I wasn't hungry and had to force myself to eat so as not to hurt feelings.
The way these despedidas work are a little awkward for me. In our room there is one small table, about big enough for four people squished together, a bunch of stools and two benches. When we're teaching, the table usually just has our materials on it, and we're standing writing on the white board or going amongst the women, making sure they've grasped whatever concept we're going over. When we're just hanging out with the women before or after we begin a lesson, we're sitting with them on benches or stools, interspersed among them, talking and making jokes. However, when there's a despedida, the volunteers sit at the table and eat while the women sit on the opposite side of the room, on the stools and benches, and eat. It's a bit like a staring contest but, more often than not, I feel like an animal at the zoo being observed by tons of people.
Anywho, it's a lovely gesture and a great way to say good-bye. After the food, there was singing and dancing. For a brief period we convinced the women to model their own goods, as we took pictures, which will eventually be included in a catalog of the Durazno Ti'kay's goods. When we left it was dark (a rare occurrence), signifying that we had stayed longer than normal.
The weekend was fairly uneventful. I had planed to travel to Puno but, as the vast majority of the people that had come down to Peru at the same time as I were leaving, I decided to stay and hang out with them. Saturday night was the official good-bye party so, after having a bite to eat, we all strolled over to one of Urubamba's two clubs. Michelle and a friend convinced the bar tender to let them bar tend, which was amusing, and we all danced a bit. My host-sister, being home from college for the weekend, dropped in with her aunt and joined us for a while.
Sunday I took a trip out to some near-by salt mines, which were absolutely beautiful. They sparkle incredibly in the light and seeing an entire red-rocked hillside covered in patches of white is different and interesting. On the way down from the salt mines (they're located on a hillside which is a short but strenuous walk uphill) we noticed a house with what looked to be a replication of Orwell's 'Animal Farm.' An older dog lay outside, observing everything, ducks and baby pigs strolled around together and two adult pigs payed no attention to anything but their food. It was one of the strangest mixtures of animals that I've seen to date.
I decided to walk back from the salt mines, about an hour along the highway, and ran into some interesting ceramic places, some adorable kids, some angry dogs and more breath-taking views than I can describe. It was a great walk home because it is the route I travel to get to work, but have never been able to fully enjoy (as we're speeding along in a crowded combi).
Monday was back to work as normal, but with a few changes. As it was the first week in August the new schedule that we had decided on two weeks ago went into effect: meetings three times a week on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday with a time for individual work form 3:30 to 4:30 and a time for lessons from 4:30 to 5:30. The week was also different because... new volunteers arrived! My project has two, Katy and Carly, who will be here for three weeks and three months, respectively.
So, Monday we didn't have a meeting with the women, but I did help do an orientation for the volunteers where I went over the general gist of what I'd been doing, what the program was about, etc. Unfortunately, the new volunteers are splitting their time between the two womens' groups (Yanhuara and one other), so they'll only be going to Yanahuara meetings twice a week. The combination of the volunteers of the two projects is something that's got me a bit worked up, as the needs of the two womens' groups are very different and time-consuming. I feel bad that, after I leave, there will not be a volunteer at every Durazno Ti'kay meeting. Of course, the goal is to make Durazno Ti'kay a fully self-sufficient organization, but I feel that, being only two and a half months old, the group still needs support, even if it's just having a volunteer there to facilitate discussions between the women.
Monday, being all of the volunteers first days, was also the orientation on stove-building, a project that builds cleaner-burning, more fuel-efficient stoves out of bricks and mud. I decided to go to the orientation and learn so that I could build my own stove on Tuesday.
Tuesday morning I helped in the construction of two stoves, which was really exciting. They're fairly basic, but include a chimney and insulation, which directs health problem-causing smoke out of houses and which creates a need for fewer logs to burn. So, we're helping health and teh environment all at once. It's a really dirty job, but extremely fun and surprisingly fast (it takes about an hour and a half to build this stove) and very, very gratifying.
Tuesday was also the day when I was by myself at Yanahuara but, actually, I was with ProPeru's director, Sara. We went to finish up the business plan but, instead, ended up outlining a money-management system, which was equally helpful and necessary. What had been happening up until that point was that each woman had been buying her own yarn, making her item, selling it, and keeping all the profits. Which is all well and good for a woman making some items to sell on the side, but not very association-like. Of course, if the women had wanted to continue with that course, we wouldn't have stopped them. But it turned out that they didn't.
We ended up with three options. The first option (A) was that the group , Durazno Ti'kay, would buy yarn as a group (and at wholesale prices) and give it to the women. In turn, the women would give a percent of every sale, high enough to cover the cost of the yarn and a little extra, to the group to be able to continue buying yarn. The second option (B) was that each woman would continue to buy her own yarn but would put a little something from each sale into the group to fund activities, teachers, transportation, etc. The final option (C) was a mixture of the first two. The group would buy yarn at wholesale prices and then mark it up and sell it to each individual member. In addition, each member would contribute a little something to the group pot for the above expenses.
At first it looked like the group was favoring plan C, although there was one strong hold out for plan B. Then the came to the realization that A and C were practically the same (which I don't agree with) and decided that, if they had the starting capital, they would prefer plan A. Well, it just so happened that Sarah, the director who was there to make sure that the plan was remembered well after I was gone, is the woman in charge of the money. And it also just so happened that Michelle and my payments to ProPeru go, in a large part, to our projects and, although we had around 1000 soles to spend, we had only spent about 40. So the group asked Sara if ProPeru could buy the yarn, and Sara said yes, and the group decided on Plan A. Now all I need to do is set up a system of how Plan A will work in practice...
Wednesday I was supposed to be doing background research for Yanahuara but, as my semester program starts so very soon, found myself trying to prepare for it by reading some assigned books on Chile. I also found a scorpion in my room, which was not very fun.
Thursday we continued with the business plan, worked out time-lines and concrete goals for the various parts of the plan that we already had and introduced the women to the new volunteers. We figured out the percent that the women, under Plan A (it sounds a little ominous that way) would have to give back. By figuring out the cost of wool for each product (5 soles for a hat, 7 soles for a scarf and 20 soles for a poncho) and the lowest price the women would sell their goods for (7 soles for a hat, 15 soles for a scarf and 30 soles for a poncho) we figured out that, to cover the cost of wool and then a little extra, would mean putting back 75% of the profits into the group. While this seemed very high to some women, we reminded them that they were not buying the yarn and that, if they were shrewd business women and managed to get higher prices for their goods, they would also get higher profits.
This entire sort of pricing work was entirely new to me, and extremely interesting to be a part of. Luckily, Sara had done development work in the Peace Corps, so she could guide me through it.
Friday we decided, after all the business progress that had been made, all the headaches and debate, that the women deserved a break from business and a time for fun. Thus, a self-esteem exercise and English review. However, as the women were busy trying to figure out what color of yarn each of them wanted, we could only get through the self-esteem exercise.
Katy, one of the new volunteers, is a psychologist, and about to start her work when she gets home. As such, she has some great activities for boosting ones' self-perception, and she decided to do one with the women on Friday. What we did was we had each woman write five positive things about herself and one positive thing about every other woman in the group. After, we went around and asked the women questions about the messages they had received: 'did anything surprise you?' 'what do you most/least associate yourself with from the comments you received?' etc. I think it was a great activity because it created a sense of community, friendship and safety within the group. Many of the women were wearing big smiles at the end.
Some other things that happened this week:
1. I started Quechua classes. Mostly I'm working on basic interactions (Hi, how are you? What's your name?) so that I can talk on a very low level with people. It's a fascinating language both because of the pronunciation, which I'm terrible at, and the grammar. What I find so interesting in terms of grammar is that the language relies a great deal on suffixes. Any possessive or directional word will be added onto the end of the noun, while other endings (that I don't yet know) will be added onto the end of a verb (more than simply conjugation). It's really fascinating.
2. I was taught how to crochet. For a while, I've been wanting to learn to crochet because the women I work with make it look so easy, and because I want to get a sense for the sort of effort they put into their work. I think that once I understand the true value of the work, I'll be better able to advocate for it.
3. I got comfortable with the women. I feel like they're finally friends and companions, as opposed to students. I'm really glad this change has happened, because I feel strange with unequal power relationships.
That's about it for last week. Stay tuned for...Puno! The Urus Islands! and Week 2 of the new schedule and stove-making!
Firstly, my Quechua teacher, who I was supposed to begin lessons with on the Wednesday we got back, had decided to continue traveling, so I kept up with the Spanish instead of switching. Secondly, we had fairly poor attendance from Durazno Ti'kay on Wednesday and Thursday, and I think we only had good attendance on Friday because it was Michelle's last day at work.
Wednesday we were planning to do a lesson on competition (and what we could do to beat it) and brainstorm things to add into our business plan related to competition. We were hoping the women could come up with some new ideas for products they could create that were not already readily available on ever street corner of Cuzco. However, only four women showed up. The combination of just coming back from a holiday, plus a funeral in the town, was a bit prohibitive for the other women. We ended up just sitting on the patio (occasionally being amused by two dogs having sex) and chatting about competition. Surprisingly, given the small number of people we had and sense of sluggishness, the discussion turned up a lot of good ideas, although not about how to beat the competition. Most notably, the discussion reanimated a previous discussion over the various benefits and disadvantages to having a quota system. When that previous discussion had been had quotas had been rejected outright. However, as soon as the idea was brought up a second time (and this time from one of the women, not from one of the volunteers) the idea was seen as positive.
I also got a good sense that day for the prise of materials here. Apparently, a cone (about a kilo) of alpaca wool mixed with sheep wool is 37 soles (about 14 USD) while a cone of 100% alpaca wool is around 110 soles, approximately 40 dollars.
Thursday we had a slightly better attendance rate, eight women, and did a lesson on the color wheel and reviewed some basic business English. The color wheel lesson was all about how to effectively combine colors in combinations that are appealing to the womens' target audience: tourists. It had been prompted by a poncho that was neon orange with neon green accents (enough said). In English we reviewed a basic conversation one might have between a tourist and a woman selling her wares. We went over the phrases "how may I help you?" "what are you looking for?" "what do you like?" "how much is it/that?" and "it/that is X soles." It was a little difficult for the women to grasp the phrases, and pronunciation in English is always difficult for them, but I think it was helpful. To practice, we had the women partner and go through a basic interaction using the above phrases. It amused them to pretend to sell goods to each-other, and it especially amused them when I was the 'seller' and they were the 'buyer'.
Friday we started off with some yoga, or at least what we call yoga. It's effectively a mixture between movement activities and basic stretching that you would do as a part of a high school team. However, we were interrupted when two women said that the food for Michelle's despedida (good-bye party) was ready. It was a really sweet gesture, even if I wasn't hungry and had to force myself to eat so as not to hurt feelings.
The way these despedidas work are a little awkward for me. In our room there is one small table, about big enough for four people squished together, a bunch of stools and two benches. When we're teaching, the table usually just has our materials on it, and we're standing writing on the white board or going amongst the women, making sure they've grasped whatever concept we're going over. When we're just hanging out with the women before or after we begin a lesson, we're sitting with them on benches or stools, interspersed among them, talking and making jokes. However, when there's a despedida, the volunteers sit at the table and eat while the women sit on the opposite side of the room, on the stools and benches, and eat. It's a bit like a staring contest but, more often than not, I feel like an animal at the zoo being observed by tons of people.
Anywho, it's a lovely gesture and a great way to say good-bye. After the food, there was singing and dancing. For a brief period we convinced the women to model their own goods, as we took pictures, which will eventually be included in a catalog of the Durazno Ti'kay's goods. When we left it was dark (a rare occurrence), signifying that we had stayed longer than normal.
The weekend was fairly uneventful. I had planed to travel to Puno but, as the vast majority of the people that had come down to Peru at the same time as I were leaving, I decided to stay and hang out with them. Saturday night was the official good-bye party so, after having a bite to eat, we all strolled over to one of Urubamba's two clubs. Michelle and a friend convinced the bar tender to let them bar tend, which was amusing, and we all danced a bit. My host-sister, being home from college for the weekend, dropped in with her aunt and joined us for a while.
Sunday I took a trip out to some near-by salt mines, which were absolutely beautiful. They sparkle incredibly in the light and seeing an entire red-rocked hillside covered in patches of white is different and interesting. On the way down from the salt mines (they're located on a hillside which is a short but strenuous walk uphill) we noticed a house with what looked to be a replication of Orwell's 'Animal Farm.' An older dog lay outside, observing everything, ducks and baby pigs strolled around together and two adult pigs payed no attention to anything but their food. It was one of the strangest mixtures of animals that I've seen to date.
I decided to walk back from the salt mines, about an hour along the highway, and ran into some interesting ceramic places, some adorable kids, some angry dogs and more breath-taking views than I can describe. It was a great walk home because it is the route I travel to get to work, but have never been able to fully enjoy (as we're speeding along in a crowded combi).
Monday was back to work as normal, but with a few changes. As it was the first week in August the new schedule that we had decided on two weeks ago went into effect: meetings three times a week on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday with a time for individual work form 3:30 to 4:30 and a time for lessons from 4:30 to 5:30. The week was also different because... new volunteers arrived! My project has two, Katy and Carly, who will be here for three weeks and three months, respectively.
So, Monday we didn't have a meeting with the women, but I did help do an orientation for the volunteers where I went over the general gist of what I'd been doing, what the program was about, etc. Unfortunately, the new volunteers are splitting their time between the two womens' groups (Yanhuara and one other), so they'll only be going to Yanahuara meetings twice a week. The combination of the volunteers of the two projects is something that's got me a bit worked up, as the needs of the two womens' groups are very different and time-consuming. I feel bad that, after I leave, there will not be a volunteer at every Durazno Ti'kay meeting. Of course, the goal is to make Durazno Ti'kay a fully self-sufficient organization, but I feel that, being only two and a half months old, the group still needs support, even if it's just having a volunteer there to facilitate discussions between the women.
Monday, being all of the volunteers first days, was also the orientation on stove-building, a project that builds cleaner-burning, more fuel-efficient stoves out of bricks and mud. I decided to go to the orientation and learn so that I could build my own stove on Tuesday.
Tuesday morning I helped in the construction of two stoves, which was really exciting. They're fairly basic, but include a chimney and insulation, which directs health problem-causing smoke out of houses and which creates a need for fewer logs to burn. So, we're helping health and teh environment all at once. It's a really dirty job, but extremely fun and surprisingly fast (it takes about an hour and a half to build this stove) and very, very gratifying.
Tuesday was also the day when I was by myself at Yanahuara but, actually, I was with ProPeru's director, Sara. We went to finish up the business plan but, instead, ended up outlining a money-management system, which was equally helpful and necessary. What had been happening up until that point was that each woman had been buying her own yarn, making her item, selling it, and keeping all the profits. Which is all well and good for a woman making some items to sell on the side, but not very association-like. Of course, if the women had wanted to continue with that course, we wouldn't have stopped them. But it turned out that they didn't.
We ended up with three options. The first option (A) was that the group , Durazno Ti'kay, would buy yarn as a group (and at wholesale prices) and give it to the women. In turn, the women would give a percent of every sale, high enough to cover the cost of the yarn and a little extra, to the group to be able to continue buying yarn. The second option (B) was that each woman would continue to buy her own yarn but would put a little something from each sale into the group to fund activities, teachers, transportation, etc. The final option (C) was a mixture of the first two. The group would buy yarn at wholesale prices and then mark it up and sell it to each individual member. In addition, each member would contribute a little something to the group pot for the above expenses.
At first it looked like the group was favoring plan C, although there was one strong hold out for plan B. Then the came to the realization that A and C were practically the same (which I don't agree with) and decided that, if they had the starting capital, they would prefer plan A. Well, it just so happened that Sarah, the director who was there to make sure that the plan was remembered well after I was gone, is the woman in charge of the money. And it also just so happened that Michelle and my payments to ProPeru go, in a large part, to our projects and, although we had around 1000 soles to spend, we had only spent about 40. So the group asked Sara if ProPeru could buy the yarn, and Sara said yes, and the group decided on Plan A. Now all I need to do is set up a system of how Plan A will work in practice...
Wednesday I was supposed to be doing background research for Yanahuara but, as my semester program starts so very soon, found myself trying to prepare for it by reading some assigned books on Chile. I also found a scorpion in my room, which was not very fun.
Thursday we continued with the business plan, worked out time-lines and concrete goals for the various parts of the plan that we already had and introduced the women to the new volunteers. We figured out the percent that the women, under Plan A (it sounds a little ominous that way) would have to give back. By figuring out the cost of wool for each product (5 soles for a hat, 7 soles for a scarf and 20 soles for a poncho) and the lowest price the women would sell their goods for (7 soles for a hat, 15 soles for a scarf and 30 soles for a poncho) we figured out that, to cover the cost of wool and then a little extra, would mean putting back 75% of the profits into the group. While this seemed very high to some women, we reminded them that they were not buying the yarn and that, if they were shrewd business women and managed to get higher prices for their goods, they would also get higher profits.
This entire sort of pricing work was entirely new to me, and extremely interesting to be a part of. Luckily, Sara had done development work in the Peace Corps, so she could guide me through it.
Friday we decided, after all the business progress that had been made, all the headaches and debate, that the women deserved a break from business and a time for fun. Thus, a self-esteem exercise and English review. However, as the women were busy trying to figure out what color of yarn each of them wanted, we could only get through the self-esteem exercise.
Katy, one of the new volunteers, is a psychologist, and about to start her work when she gets home. As such, she has some great activities for boosting ones' self-perception, and she decided to do one with the women on Friday. What we did was we had each woman write five positive things about herself and one positive thing about every other woman in the group. After, we went around and asked the women questions about the messages they had received: 'did anything surprise you?' 'what do you most/least associate yourself with from the comments you received?' etc. I think it was a great activity because it created a sense of community, friendship and safety within the group. Many of the women were wearing big smiles at the end.
Some other things that happened this week:
1. I started Quechua classes. Mostly I'm working on basic interactions (Hi, how are you? What's your name?) so that I can talk on a very low level with people. It's a fascinating language both because of the pronunciation, which I'm terrible at, and the grammar. What I find so interesting in terms of grammar is that the language relies a great deal on suffixes. Any possessive or directional word will be added onto the end of the noun, while other endings (that I don't yet know) will be added onto the end of a verb (more than simply conjugation). It's really fascinating.
2. I was taught how to crochet. For a while, I've been wanting to learn to crochet because the women I work with make it look so easy, and because I want to get a sense for the sort of effort they put into their work. I think that once I understand the true value of the work, I'll be better able to advocate for it.
3. I got comfortable with the women. I feel like they're finally friends and companions, as opposed to students. I'm really glad this change has happened, because I feel strange with unequal power relationships.
That's about it for last week. Stay tuned for...Puno! The Urus Islands! and Week 2 of the new schedule and stove-making!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Dias Patrias Holidays: Machu Pichu and Cuzco
Dias Patrias are the Peruvian independence day holidays. Being patriotic, it means we get a four-day weekend. Some other volunteers and I decided to take advantage of the extra time and make our way to Machu Pichu.
We live in Urubamba, which is in the heart of the Sacred Valley and makes it fairly easy to get around to multiple ruins. To get to Machu Pichu we: 1. Took a combi to Oyantaytumbo, 2. Took a train to Aguas Calientes and 3. Took a bus up the mountain to Machu Pichu at 5:30 in the morning (but I'll get to that.
Saturday we left Urubamba at around 10, got to Oyanta at 11ish, had lunch and hoped on our train at 12:30. The train was spectacular. Because all of the seats in the backpacker train had been booked when we went to buy tickets, we had to opt for the slightly more expensive VistaDome. It was 100% worth the extra money. The VistaDome, as its name might imply, has glass ceilings, so you can see out the sides and the tops of the cars. Given that we were traveling through mountained country side, past pastures, rivers and glaciers, the view was absolutely incredible. And the early afternoon sunlight only added to the experience.
We got to Aguas Calientes at around 2:30, walked around the market a bit (so situated so that you have to walk through it when leaving the train to get to the town) and went in search of a hostel. Aguas Calentes is a town that straddles a river. The river effectively acts as a divider between the tourists and the locals; on one side are lots of restaurants, hotels, bars, shops and the bust station to Machu Pichu. On the other side are the same things, but markedly less fancy. What really struck me, even though it was just a little thing, was that there were bodegas on the local side of the river and not really on the tourist side of the river, clearly tourists are expected to eat at restaurants as opposed to buying bread and cheese and making their own sandwiches.
Well, we decided to stay on the local side of the river because of money and the fact that we wanted a slightly more 'real' experience. We ended up at a hostel where you had to walk through what looked like a jungle to get to your room. Very cool. We dropped off our bags and then went on what was supposed to be a fairly easy hour-long hike to a vantage point where you could see the entirety of Machu Pichu. We had some misinformation.
We began at round 4 in the afternoon. The hike started out fine, a little challenging on the uphills, but entirely doable. Then, about thirty minutes in, we saw a ladder. Not just any ladder, but an entirely vertical ladder scaling the side of the mountain - that was the way to the rest of the hike. We figured it wouldn't be too bad, so we continued up. And, when we had finished the ladder (which had something like 110 rungs) we saw another ladder. And that was the hike. Ladder after ladder after ladder scaling the shear side of this mountain. After about 45 minutes of this we passed some people coming down from the vantage point. But then it was around 5:30 or so. They told us it was another 45 minutes up to the top. Which would have been fine, except for things start to get dark at around 6:15 or so, and climbing down ladders next to a vertical drop was not something we particularly wanted to do. So we came down and didn't get to see the view. Sounds fine. But it just so happened that there were three of our group mates who had zipped up the mountian ahead of everyone else, and we had no way of telling them how much further they had to go and how they would be returning in the dark (no one had thought to bring their flashlight or headlight.)
We waited by the train tracks, where we would have a clear view of anyone coming off the mountian, for about an hour and a half. In that time we witnessed cats falling off a roof and almost hitting one of our group members on the head and we were attacked by three fiver-year-old Peruvians who wanted piggy-back rides (or to strangle us, but I prefer to think the former.) The entire time we were expecting to see our group members walking along the train tracks. Finally, we figured worrying wouldn't do any good, so we got some dinner. When we finished dinner and were about to walk to our hotel, who did we see but our missing companions! It turns out they had used iPods and cell phones and cameras to light their way down the ladders and the rest of the mountain and, although there had been some (very) near death experiences, everyone was fine and surprisingly calm.
We headed back to the hostel, wound from a very stressful day with some wine and beer and went to bead by 11, we would have an early day on Sunday...
But no one realized exactly how early. It turns out that our hostel was situated next to what can only be described as a farm. A farm with a very, very disoriented rooster. At 3am the rooster decided it was time to sound off, and didn't stop until 4am. It's the only time I've wanted to kill a living thing with my bare hands. We had to get up at 4:30 anyway, so we got very little sleep.
Why, you might ask, were we so determined to get to Machu Pichu at the crack of dawn? Well, the answer, my friends, is Waynapicchu. It's that ridiculously tall peek that is in the back of every picture of Machu Pichu, and they only allow 400 people up a day. It is supposed to have the best view of the ruins of Machu Pichu and, what's more, there are some amazing runs on the top of the peek. So we got up early.
We were in line at Waynapicchu, after a few mishaps (having to check too-large backpacks, having one of our group members almost not be let in because the stub for her Machu Pichu tickets had fallen off,) at 6:30. At 8, we found out that we were the last 8 people in the first group of 200, and would be allowed to go up the mountian shortly. At 8:45 we signed into a book that kept records of all hikers, and that we would sign out of when we returned. In this way, they could see if someone had fallen off the side of the mountian.
Climbing Waynapicchu made me come to a realization - the Incas must have been in extremely good shape. According to historians and anthropologists, the Incas were short. But their stairs were tall. The stairs got up to something like 2 feet, which made it very difficult to climb them. And the way to the top was about 85% stairs. The other parts involved sheer rock scrambling and narrow paths. But it was doable (especially after our experience the previous afternoon) and in an hour or so we hit the summit.
Wow. There really are no words to describe the amazing view. You feel like you're standing above the clouds (which, in some cases you are) looking through time. From up there you can really see that Machu Pichu was built in the shape of a condor, and the agricultural, residential and military sections of the town are clearly defined. It is an absolutely incredible feeling, even if it feel like you're intruding on the Incas worlds and even if you get a touch of vertigo.
We had lunch at the top (at 10:30am) and then just wandered the ruins. We sunned at the very peak on two rocks that come together at a 90 degree angle and then headed down. We tried to see as much of Machu Pichu as we could but we were exhausted and, after seeing the view from the top of Waynapicchu, the rest seemed to pale in comparison.
We made our way back to Aguas Calentes and our hotel, and I feel asleep until 8pm. Got up, ate some dinner and went back to sleep.
The next day, Monday, we headed out, back to Oyanta and then to Cuzco for Dias Patrias celebrations. In actuality, there were no celebrations. It seemed like people, with their four day weekends, had left to go to other parts, creating the illusion that there were more tourists in Cuzco than residents. It was a very strange feeling.
Cuzco, regardless of the fact that it is a city overrun with tourists, keeps a very hip, Peruvian vibe about it. There's an area on steep incline called San Blas. It's filled with adorable little boutiques, fun cafes and bars, live music venues and, of course, remnants of Inca life. It's the area most like New York's SoHo that I've found in my travels; even the streets are cobble stone and narrow, twisting so that where you come out of them is a mystery. Avenida del Sol is the main shopping street, about 3 blocks of the main plaza. You can find everything and anything there. About a half mile down Avenida del Sol is a cultural center which we happened to walk by just as a dance show was starting. We dropped in and were treated to 5 traditional dances and some traditional music, form the Cuzco (Qusqo in Quecha) area and from all around. My favorite dance represented male llamas and female herders. The men dressed up in such colorful outfits with huge amounts of colored wool hanging off them from every side. They would dance around the women, with the women and with each other to show their comradeships. It was very different and very interesting. Connecting the main plaza to the area where all the hostels and hotels are is called, colloquially, Gringo Alley. It's got lots of souvineer shops and even more camping rental and trip-booking agencies. And, what's even more interesting, is that everything seems to be written in Spanish and Hebrew. It's a fun place to wander around for a while, seeing the differences in prices between identical items in one shop or another. It's also a good place to practice ones bargaining skills.
Monday night, after the dance, we were all craving a taste of home. So we went out for the most American food we could think of: Chinese. It was a bit disappointing to say the least: my wanton soup didn't even have wantons, just noodles, but I guess there's something to be said for having tried Peruvian Chinese food. I think I'll just stick with the cuy. After dinner we went club hoping, which was great because I haven't been dancing since Guatemala.
The clubs around the main Plaza are very Gringo-friendly. We began at one, had a great tie dancing before it got overly full, and then decided to hit up the next one. The next club had a 10 sole cover, which we weren't willing to pay. Because we were white they let us cut the line and not pay the cover. The last club (three in one night is my limit) had a huge line outside of it but, as soon as the bouncer saw a group members' blond hair, they pulled all of us to the front and let us in.
In all of Peru there is discrimination, either positive or negative or just curios, based on skin color. But it's never been so blatant to me before. I felt awkward being given these special privileges - for something I had not control over. In all honesty, if I were a Cusquenian, I would hate the clubs for their neo-colonial perspective. As an American I can't stand the implication that the clubs give through their policies: that white people are rich and thus worthy of special treatment. It's an assumption that I've had to deal with throughout Latin America, and i think it makes interactions between Americans and locals less equal .
Tuesday we spent some time wandering around Cuzco, doing some shopping, and, at around 3, we headed back to Urubamba. Surprisingly, it felt like coming home. I think I've finally adjusted to small town life. And although I enjoyed the clubbing until three in the morning, as soon as I got back I was craving the hanging out in a cafe until 10 at night and then going home to read or sleep, which is a nightly occurance in Urubamba.
We live in Urubamba, which is in the heart of the Sacred Valley and makes it fairly easy to get around to multiple ruins. To get to Machu Pichu we: 1. Took a combi to Oyantaytumbo, 2. Took a train to Aguas Calientes and 3. Took a bus up the mountain to Machu Pichu at 5:30 in the morning (but I'll get to that.
Saturday we left Urubamba at around 10, got to Oyanta at 11ish, had lunch and hoped on our train at 12:30. The train was spectacular. Because all of the seats in the backpacker train had been booked when we went to buy tickets, we had to opt for the slightly more expensive VistaDome. It was 100% worth the extra money. The VistaDome, as its name might imply, has glass ceilings, so you can see out the sides and the tops of the cars. Given that we were traveling through mountained country side, past pastures, rivers and glaciers, the view was absolutely incredible. And the early afternoon sunlight only added to the experience.
We got to Aguas Calientes at around 2:30, walked around the market a bit (so situated so that you have to walk through it when leaving the train to get to the town) and went in search of a hostel. Aguas Calentes is a town that straddles a river. The river effectively acts as a divider between the tourists and the locals; on one side are lots of restaurants, hotels, bars, shops and the bust station to Machu Pichu. On the other side are the same things, but markedly less fancy. What really struck me, even though it was just a little thing, was that there were bodegas on the local side of the river and not really on the tourist side of the river, clearly tourists are expected to eat at restaurants as opposed to buying bread and cheese and making their own sandwiches.
Well, we decided to stay on the local side of the river because of money and the fact that we wanted a slightly more 'real' experience. We ended up at a hostel where you had to walk through what looked like a jungle to get to your room. Very cool. We dropped off our bags and then went on what was supposed to be a fairly easy hour-long hike to a vantage point where you could see the entirety of Machu Pichu. We had some misinformation.
We began at round 4 in the afternoon. The hike started out fine, a little challenging on the uphills, but entirely doable. Then, about thirty minutes in, we saw a ladder. Not just any ladder, but an entirely vertical ladder scaling the side of the mountain - that was the way to the rest of the hike. We figured it wouldn't be too bad, so we continued up. And, when we had finished the ladder (which had something like 110 rungs) we saw another ladder. And that was the hike. Ladder after ladder after ladder scaling the shear side of this mountain. After about 45 minutes of this we passed some people coming down from the vantage point. But then it was around 5:30 or so. They told us it was another 45 minutes up to the top. Which would have been fine, except for things start to get dark at around 6:15 or so, and climbing down ladders next to a vertical drop was not something we particularly wanted to do. So we came down and didn't get to see the view. Sounds fine. But it just so happened that there were three of our group mates who had zipped up the mountian ahead of everyone else, and we had no way of telling them how much further they had to go and how they would be returning in the dark (no one had thought to bring their flashlight or headlight.)
We waited by the train tracks, where we would have a clear view of anyone coming off the mountian, for about an hour and a half. In that time we witnessed cats falling off a roof and almost hitting one of our group members on the head and we were attacked by three fiver-year-old Peruvians who wanted piggy-back rides (or to strangle us, but I prefer to think the former.) The entire time we were expecting to see our group members walking along the train tracks. Finally, we figured worrying wouldn't do any good, so we got some dinner. When we finished dinner and were about to walk to our hotel, who did we see but our missing companions! It turns out they had used iPods and cell phones and cameras to light their way down the ladders and the rest of the mountain and, although there had been some (very) near death experiences, everyone was fine and surprisingly calm.
We headed back to the hostel, wound from a very stressful day with some wine and beer and went to bead by 11, we would have an early day on Sunday...
But no one realized exactly how early. It turns out that our hostel was situated next to what can only be described as a farm. A farm with a very, very disoriented rooster. At 3am the rooster decided it was time to sound off, and didn't stop until 4am. It's the only time I've wanted to kill a living thing with my bare hands. We had to get up at 4:30 anyway, so we got very little sleep.
Why, you might ask, were we so determined to get to Machu Pichu at the crack of dawn? Well, the answer, my friends, is Waynapicchu. It's that ridiculously tall peek that is in the back of every picture of Machu Pichu, and they only allow 400 people up a day. It is supposed to have the best view of the ruins of Machu Pichu and, what's more, there are some amazing runs on the top of the peek. So we got up early.
We were in line at Waynapicchu, after a few mishaps (having to check too-large backpacks, having one of our group members almost not be let in because the stub for her Machu Pichu tickets had fallen off,) at 6:30. At 8, we found out that we were the last 8 people in the first group of 200, and would be allowed to go up the mountian shortly. At 8:45 we signed into a book that kept records of all hikers, and that we would sign out of when we returned. In this way, they could see if someone had fallen off the side of the mountian.
Climbing Waynapicchu made me come to a realization - the Incas must have been in extremely good shape. According to historians and anthropologists, the Incas were short. But their stairs were tall. The stairs got up to something like 2 feet, which made it very difficult to climb them. And the way to the top was about 85% stairs. The other parts involved sheer rock scrambling and narrow paths. But it was doable (especially after our experience the previous afternoon) and in an hour or so we hit the summit.
Wow. There really are no words to describe the amazing view. You feel like you're standing above the clouds (which, in some cases you are) looking through time. From up there you can really see that Machu Pichu was built in the shape of a condor, and the agricultural, residential and military sections of the town are clearly defined. It is an absolutely incredible feeling, even if it feel like you're intruding on the Incas worlds and even if you get a touch of vertigo.
We had lunch at the top (at 10:30am) and then just wandered the ruins. We sunned at the very peak on two rocks that come together at a 90 degree angle and then headed down. We tried to see as much of Machu Pichu as we could but we were exhausted and, after seeing the view from the top of Waynapicchu, the rest seemed to pale in comparison.
We made our way back to Aguas Calentes and our hotel, and I feel asleep until 8pm. Got up, ate some dinner and went back to sleep.
The next day, Monday, we headed out, back to Oyanta and then to Cuzco for Dias Patrias celebrations. In actuality, there were no celebrations. It seemed like people, with their four day weekends, had left to go to other parts, creating the illusion that there were more tourists in Cuzco than residents. It was a very strange feeling.
Cuzco, regardless of the fact that it is a city overrun with tourists, keeps a very hip, Peruvian vibe about it. There's an area on steep incline called San Blas. It's filled with adorable little boutiques, fun cafes and bars, live music venues and, of course, remnants of Inca life. It's the area most like New York's SoHo that I've found in my travels; even the streets are cobble stone and narrow, twisting so that where you come out of them is a mystery. Avenida del Sol is the main shopping street, about 3 blocks of the main plaza. You can find everything and anything there. About a half mile down Avenida del Sol is a cultural center which we happened to walk by just as a dance show was starting. We dropped in and were treated to 5 traditional dances and some traditional music, form the Cuzco (Qusqo in Quecha) area and from all around. My favorite dance represented male llamas and female herders. The men dressed up in such colorful outfits with huge amounts of colored wool hanging off them from every side. They would dance around the women, with the women and with each other to show their comradeships. It was very different and very interesting. Connecting the main plaza to the area where all the hostels and hotels are is called, colloquially, Gringo Alley. It's got lots of souvineer shops and even more camping rental and trip-booking agencies. And, what's even more interesting, is that everything seems to be written in Spanish and Hebrew. It's a fun place to wander around for a while, seeing the differences in prices between identical items in one shop or another. It's also a good place to practice ones bargaining skills.
Monday night, after the dance, we were all craving a taste of home. So we went out for the most American food we could think of: Chinese. It was a bit disappointing to say the least: my wanton soup didn't even have wantons, just noodles, but I guess there's something to be said for having tried Peruvian Chinese food. I think I'll just stick with the cuy. After dinner we went club hoping, which was great because I haven't been dancing since Guatemala.
The clubs around the main Plaza are very Gringo-friendly. We began at one, had a great tie dancing before it got overly full, and then decided to hit up the next one. The next club had a 10 sole cover, which we weren't willing to pay. Because we were white they let us cut the line and not pay the cover. The last club (three in one night is my limit) had a huge line outside of it but, as soon as the bouncer saw a group members' blond hair, they pulled all of us to the front and let us in.
In all of Peru there is discrimination, either positive or negative or just curios, based on skin color. But it's never been so blatant to me before. I felt awkward being given these special privileges - for something I had not control over. In all honesty, if I were a Cusquenian, I would hate the clubs for their neo-colonial perspective. As an American I can't stand the implication that the clubs give through their policies: that white people are rich and thus worthy of special treatment. It's an assumption that I've had to deal with throughout Latin America, and i think it makes interactions between Americans and locals less equal .
Tuesday we spent some time wandering around Cuzco, doing some shopping, and, at around 3, we headed back to Urubamba. Surprisingly, it felt like coming home. I think I've finally adjusted to small town life. And although I enjoyed the clubbing until three in the morning, as soon as I got back I was craving the hanging out in a cafe until 10 at night and then going home to read or sleep, which is a nightly occurance in Urubamba.
Friday, August 1, 2008
A Day in The Life
I figure I might let you all know what an average day is like for me, or at least has been like, as my schedule will soon change (my partner is leaving and I´m switching from morning Spanish classes to evening Quecha classes)
Every day (minus Fridays) I get up at seven, don´t take a shower because I don´t feel like being cold, and then head down to breakfast. I eat a half a piece of bread with some margerine that doesn´t need to be refrifgerated and take my vitimins, something I´ve never before done but am doing now in the hopes of not getting Giardia (don´t ask, it makes no sense but it´s a placebo type ting).
I head out at around 7:30 to walk to the Spanish school which is only 15 minutes away. I like to take my time, though. And each time I try to walk a different way to the school (but, as there are only about 10 different streets in Urubamba, I´ve done them all by now). Usually I walk on the market street, whcih also takes me past teh church/plaza. In teh mornings there are ladies on the market street who set up carts with some type of hot drink. From what I can tell there´s some base liquid, and then people choose some other flavors to add. It´s an interesting sight: the cups are glass, so the peopel cannot take the drinks to go. Instead they stand around, sometimes chat, finish their drinks and leave. It´s interetsing to watch because it´s so different from an American mentality of rush rush rush and drink your diet coke on the run.
There´s a man a little farther down the market street whose presence I´ve come to love. He seems to be about 50 to 60 and is the villiage sandal maker. What´s cool, however, is that he makes his sandals out of old and non-useable tires.
More recently, there have poped up a group of older women who seel shamanic products. They´re adorable, but I have absoluteloy no idea what they´re selling wor what it´s supposed to be used for.
Of course, on market days, there are people with all sorts of fruits, veggitables, meets, cheeses, pocket knives, bootleged CD´s and cheep magazines on everything from raising cueys to lovepoems. It´s crazy and bustling, and I usually get to Spanish late because I´m distracted.
Spanish class is off the highway, so I walk along it for about 5 minutes, getting honked at by little taxies that are really just converted motorcycles, tourist busses and combis. I get to Spanish class and chat for 2 hours with Michelle and my Spanish teacher. We´ve covered everything from abortion to euthenasia to health care systems to sexy Latin actors (Gael Garcia Bernal, we all agree, is sexiest). Sometimes we read articles, but mostly we just talk. My teacher, Maritza, is from Colombia, so I´ve heard a lot about the way of life there.
After Spanish Michelle and I walk along the highway, past the bust terminal and up Calle Torre Chayok to the church. There wa make a left, but not before stopping at the packeged food vendor on the corner. This woman gets so much of my business. She sells these delicious packeged slightly poped corn kernals, salted to perfection. Every day I buy two packeges, and they´re gone within 20 minutes, she must think I´m crazy or an addict (whcih, I sort of am at this point).
We head over to ProPeru, where our two resident sheep (bought to cut the grass) sometimes meet us at teh gait. Sometimes there´s also a huge black male cow on the road outside of ProPeru, he scares me.
We get to ProPeru and spend two or three hours brainstorming our lesson for later that day. We usually do a two-part thing, yoga and English or business and leadership or something like that. It takes a surprisingly long time to put these lessons together, and really gives me a great ammount of respect for teachers.
At around 1 we head off to our separate houses for lunch. In Peru, lunch is a big deal. It always has two parts: a soup and a ´segundo´or second course. And there are always potatoes and rice (and often noodles) with the meal. So far I´ve loved the food, but the carb intake, so different from my own at home, is hard to deal with. Luckily, my housemate Grace, loves rice, and can usually eat mine so that I don´t offend our host mom.
After lunch Michelle and I meet at the bus termanal where men hawlk at us to go to Cuzco or Chinchero or some other place. We head over to a combi and squeeze ourselves in. Generally, if we can´t get seats, we´ll wait for the next combi. The ride is about 10 minutes and absolutely beautiful. We go past mountians, salt mines, the river, abandoned train tracks and houses of all sorts. We yell out to the combi driver - bajo! (let us off) - whe we see the green house in Yanahuara and head over to our house to start setting up.
Usually we get to work by 3:20, but don´t start until 3:45 because not enough people have shown up. For those 25 minutes we sit with the women who are there, chat and watch them knitt. We have lessons for about an hour, wither in a large bleak room (whcih we´re trying to liven up with posters) or outside, a courtyard covered in flowers. We teach for about an hour, hang out and talk a little more, and then head back to Urubamba. To get back, we flag down a combi, whcih sometimes takes forever and sometimes comes right away. Usually, though, by the time we get back it´s packed with people, products and (on ocassion) animals.
I head back to my house, have a significantly smaller dinner than lunch, and then head out. Around teh plaza there are four volunteer-friendly locations; comfy couches, chill atmospheres, bopard games and, at the most visited location, a special discounted volunteer menu. Generally I meet the volunteers who came in July (with me) here, and hang out until about 10, when we all are too tired to stay out any longer and go to bed. Wednesdays are special. On Wednesdays all the volunteers from ProPeru and the other NGO´s in Urubanba (there are something like 5 or 6) get together to play Trivia, a modified version of Jeopardy. It´s a great time with categories like ´famous people,´ ´geography,´ ´Peru,´ and ´song lyrics.´
All in all it´s a pretty great schedule, even if I do feel weird going to bed at 10 every night.
Every day (minus Fridays) I get up at seven, don´t take a shower because I don´t feel like being cold, and then head down to breakfast. I eat a half a piece of bread with some margerine that doesn´t need to be refrifgerated and take my vitimins, something I´ve never before done but am doing now in the hopes of not getting Giardia (don´t ask, it makes no sense but it´s a placebo type ting).
I head out at around 7:30 to walk to the Spanish school which is only 15 minutes away. I like to take my time, though. And each time I try to walk a different way to the school (but, as there are only about 10 different streets in Urubamba, I´ve done them all by now). Usually I walk on the market street, whcih also takes me past teh church/plaza. In teh mornings there are ladies on the market street who set up carts with some type of hot drink. From what I can tell there´s some base liquid, and then people choose some other flavors to add. It´s an interesting sight: the cups are glass, so the peopel cannot take the drinks to go. Instead they stand around, sometimes chat, finish their drinks and leave. It´s interetsing to watch because it´s so different from an American mentality of rush rush rush and drink your diet coke on the run.
There´s a man a little farther down the market street whose presence I´ve come to love. He seems to be about 50 to 60 and is the villiage sandal maker. What´s cool, however, is that he makes his sandals out of old and non-useable tires.
More recently, there have poped up a group of older women who seel shamanic products. They´re adorable, but I have absoluteloy no idea what they´re selling wor what it´s supposed to be used for.
Of course, on market days, there are people with all sorts of fruits, veggitables, meets, cheeses, pocket knives, bootleged CD´s and cheep magazines on everything from raising cueys to lovepoems. It´s crazy and bustling, and I usually get to Spanish late because I´m distracted.
Spanish class is off the highway, so I walk along it for about 5 minutes, getting honked at by little taxies that are really just converted motorcycles, tourist busses and combis. I get to Spanish class and chat for 2 hours with Michelle and my Spanish teacher. We´ve covered everything from abortion to euthenasia to health care systems to sexy Latin actors (Gael Garcia Bernal, we all agree, is sexiest). Sometimes we read articles, but mostly we just talk. My teacher, Maritza, is from Colombia, so I´ve heard a lot about the way of life there.
After Spanish Michelle and I walk along the highway, past the bust terminal and up Calle Torre Chayok to the church. There wa make a left, but not before stopping at the packeged food vendor on the corner. This woman gets so much of my business. She sells these delicious packeged slightly poped corn kernals, salted to perfection. Every day I buy two packeges, and they´re gone within 20 minutes, she must think I´m crazy or an addict (whcih, I sort of am at this point).
We head over to ProPeru, where our two resident sheep (bought to cut the grass) sometimes meet us at teh gait. Sometimes there´s also a huge black male cow on the road outside of ProPeru, he scares me.
We get to ProPeru and spend two or three hours brainstorming our lesson for later that day. We usually do a two-part thing, yoga and English or business and leadership or something like that. It takes a surprisingly long time to put these lessons together, and really gives me a great ammount of respect for teachers.
At around 1 we head off to our separate houses for lunch. In Peru, lunch is a big deal. It always has two parts: a soup and a ´segundo´or second course. And there are always potatoes and rice (and often noodles) with the meal. So far I´ve loved the food, but the carb intake, so different from my own at home, is hard to deal with. Luckily, my housemate Grace, loves rice, and can usually eat mine so that I don´t offend our host mom.
After lunch Michelle and I meet at the bus termanal where men hawlk at us to go to Cuzco or Chinchero or some other place. We head over to a combi and squeeze ourselves in. Generally, if we can´t get seats, we´ll wait for the next combi. The ride is about 10 minutes and absolutely beautiful. We go past mountians, salt mines, the river, abandoned train tracks and houses of all sorts. We yell out to the combi driver - bajo! (let us off) - whe we see the green house in Yanahuara and head over to our house to start setting up.
Usually we get to work by 3:20, but don´t start until 3:45 because not enough people have shown up. For those 25 minutes we sit with the women who are there, chat and watch them knitt. We have lessons for about an hour, wither in a large bleak room (whcih we´re trying to liven up with posters) or outside, a courtyard covered in flowers. We teach for about an hour, hang out and talk a little more, and then head back to Urubamba. To get back, we flag down a combi, whcih sometimes takes forever and sometimes comes right away. Usually, though, by the time we get back it´s packed with people, products and (on ocassion) animals.
I head back to my house, have a significantly smaller dinner than lunch, and then head out. Around teh plaza there are four volunteer-friendly locations; comfy couches, chill atmospheres, bopard games and, at the most visited location, a special discounted volunteer menu. Generally I meet the volunteers who came in July (with me) here, and hang out until about 10, when we all are too tired to stay out any longer and go to bed. Wednesdays are special. On Wednesdays all the volunteers from ProPeru and the other NGO´s in Urubanba (there are something like 5 or 6) get together to play Trivia, a modified version of Jeopardy. It´s a great time with categories like ´famous people,´ ´geography,´ ´Peru,´ and ´song lyrics.´
All in all it´s a pretty great schedule, even if I do feel weird going to bed at 10 every night.
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