Farewell

Sister Jackie and the abuelos wave farewell

Friday was our last day at Los Martincitos and in Peru. A week of volunteering with CCS is never enough, yet I am ready to go home. We made a lot of new friends and my admiration for the work that Sister Jackie and the other permanent volunteers do in Villa El Salvador is beyond description. I received more hugs and kisses in farewell than a person would usually get in months.

We watched a documentary from Irish television telling the story of Villa El Salvador. I could go on for hours about these strong, resilient people who were dumped in the desert and told this place was to be their new home only 40 years ago. It may not look like much, but they have built schools, clinics, churches and a community out of nothing.  If you study what the residents of Villa El Salvador endured during the terrible years of violence in the 1980’s and early 90’s, it’s hard to imagine how they survived. They were targets of the government, military and the Shining Path revolutionaries due to their successful non-violent social programs. The documentary was especially meaningful since there were several people we worked with from Los Marincitos who were included in the story.

Every time I have stepped outside my comfort zone to tackle a volunteer assignment with CCS, I have learned as much about myself as I have about the people I have chosen to assist. I may work hard and  give them my time and attention, but I come home the recipient of gifts far more valuable than I have given. I am constantly reminded that although we may live differently and speak different languages, most of us want the same things – food on the table, security, education for our children, a purpose for our lives and for the world to be a better place for all of us.

Thanksgiving Day

I was going to write about our trip to the mega-supermarket this afternoon. It’s a 20 minute walk and they have 500 attendants, one on every aisle to sell you everything they have. Except for the cranberry sauce that we were looking for. Apparently it is very scarce in Peru. So I can’t resist the topic of traffic instead. This photo is from the pedestrian bridge we cross to the mall. And it doesn’t begin to show what it’s like. Notice how there don’t really seem to be any lanes. And imagine the cacophony that accompanies this. The background roar of engines, dozens of angry horns honking, all the bus drivers out in the street yelling, trying to get you to take their bus. “ Five soles” one shouted as he shoved five fingers in my face when I came down the stairs. Glad I was walking to my destination. Several times today on the van to Los Martincitos, if you stuck one knuckle’s worth of your finger out the window, you could touch the vehicle next to us. I won’t miss the traffic.

Since Thanksgiving is not exactly a Peruvian holiday, I wasn’t expecting any celebration. But several years ago, they started having a special lunch for the abuelos at Los Martincitos since there are so many American volunteers. They don’t quite understand the reason, but they are always happy for a celebration and another free meal.

So today half the group did home visits and my half was assigned to decorate the dining room for the event. Henrique, the CCS program director, came up with four pumpkins and some brown paper. We requested that Tony, the Los Martincitos director take us to the market to shop. This makes them nervous because the Villa El Salvador market is not really a good place for gringos. But we love it there. You can buy everything from shoes to herbs to whole slaughtered pigs in this outdoor market. We bought colored paper, metallic garlands, fruit and vegetables to decorate. It was especially challenging since none of our escorts spoke English and none of us speak Spanish.

The abuelos arrived in a festive spirit and seemed to appreciate the decorations. And of course, they loved the gigantic turkey meal cooked by a combination of the Los Martincitos and CCS cooks. They had enough on their plates to take home and feed them for several days. Many hugs and kisses sent us on our way at the end of the celebration.

What I Wouldn't Give....

....for some quiet. I realized today, that since our return to Lima, there has not been even a moment of silence. My ears are under constant assault. The roar of traffic is incessant – louder during the day than at night, but it never quiets completely. There are perpetual car alarms, police sirens, multitudes of barking dogs and honking horns, as well as voices and music. Even my sleep is restless and anxious, I think because my brain is never lacking input. Ear plugs don’t help. The noise is never ending. I’m a little homesick and longing for a traditional Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, but most of all I’m craving silence. 

Volunteer Activities

The last couple of days have gone by quickly. With all the new volunteers arriving over the weekend, it has been pretty crazy. And for a group that is technically older than most that we’ve worked with before, there is WAY too much DRAMA. Fortunately, our room is located in sort of an annex that is mostly used for storage and we only have two neighbors over here. Good place to escape the turmoil.

Yesterday we got to see what a full day looks like at Los Martincitos. We served breakfast – sardine sandwiches- which I could barely stomach in the morning, did mounds of dishes, served lunch and washed more mounds of dishes. In between the meals, the eight volunteers worked with different groups of abuelos. Some helped in physical therapy, others in the craft room or the literacy program where they teach Spanish since most of the abuelos speak Quechua.  Larry chopped and chopped and chopped vegetables for their delicious looking lunch. I was in the game room and wanted to play musical chairs, but got snagged to bag dried beans into individual serving size bags and spent much of the morning in the storeroom with a scoop.

Today I did home visits with Sister Jackie again. I just can’t bring myself to take pictures of their homes. It’s not as bad as I expected, but I can assure you that you would rather be dead than live where they do. Crumbling walls, dirt floors, no real roof and often no electricity. Forty percent of the population in Lima lives on less than $2/day for a family of four. There’s no heat in the homes and they are cold and damp since the sun comes out only a few months of the year. I didn’t realize that Lima is actually a desert. And Villa El Salvador is built on a gigantic sand dune, so very little grows there and it is very dusty and dirty. I’ve had a headache most of the time from the dust and the diesel fumes.

So for a change of scenery, we went back to the mall this afternoon. It’s about a 15 minute walk from our house, across from the university. It is very American-the stores, restaurants and brands are almost all American. We counted seven gelato places. Since there is no Thanksgiving to get in the way, all the Christmas decorations have been up all month, which seems very strange. But they are planning a special Thanksgiving dinner for us on Thursday minus the cranberries and pumpkin since those don’t grow in Peru and apparently aren't available.

Taxi Terror

Sat am traffic

Lima has done nothing to quell my fear of taxis. I thought traffic was bad in LA, Cairo and Boston, but I have NEVER seen anything like Lima. I ride backward in the van on the way to placement so I don’t have to see where we’re going. Getting in a taxi where there are no rules, you don’t speak a word of the language and you just have to hope your driver is taking you where you want to go is more than enough to cause hyperventilation and nausea.

Taximoto

But there are no alternatives to taxis in Lima. They tell us getting on a bus is a sure way to get robbed and a taximoto is a sure way to die. So you’re left with a taxi. It doesn’t help that I heard today that a licensed taxi driver in Ariquepa kidnapped tourists for ransom this week. So if I want to go somewhere, I have to take a taxi and hope for the best.

This afternoon we wanted to go exploring. That requires a taxi. And the ability to tell the driver where you want to go.  And then how to get home. And the ability to ensure you’re not getting stiffed on the fare. Almost enough to keep me from going out. But we got lucky today. Our drivers were honest and adept at maneuvering traffic. We made it to our destination in record time.

Barranco church

We spent the afternoon in Barranco, a seaside district of Lima known for its old Spanish style buildings, nice market and oceanview bars. The sun came out and it was quite warm; a nice change from the chilly, dreary days in Lima so far. We walked down to the beach and back up all the steps to the square.

We shopped around at the market and I added another purse to my collection. At this rate, I may return home with the world’s largest collection of purses.

Ten more volunteers arrive tonight and another twelve or so on Sunday. The peace and quiet of the house will soon be over. By this time tomorrow this place will be a zoo!

Barranco market

Lake Titikaka and the Floating Islands

Lake Titikaka is the highest lake in the world. Most places you will see it spelled with “c”s, but the correct spelling in Quechua is with “k”s as I have done here. We boarded a boat for a three hour trip to explore the lake and its islands.

Our first stop was one of the floating islands. These islands are made of reeds and are inhabited by people who consider themselves to be from a pre-Incan culture. They showed us how they maintain the island by layering the reeds and how it is anchored so they don’t float into Bolivia. Their homes are made of reeds and so are their boats. They support themselves with crafts that they make and sell. We sailed in the reed boat over to another island.

Then we returned to our regular boat and headed to Isla de Taquile where there are no roads or even bicycles. Just 500 steps to the top and the town square. We climbed half way up and stopped for a delicious lunch, then made our way to the top, passing several children herding their sheep along the way. 

On our way down, school let out and we passed groups of children on their way home. Even on this distant island, some of the children had their noses stuck in video games as they navigated the treacherous steps home. 

You can read about the food we've enjoyed on the trip, such as the fabulous lunch on Isla de Taquile, at Tastemonials.www.tastemonials.net

Chinchero

Last Sunday, we drove again through the Andean farming country to visit another weaving cooperative at Chinchero.  Along the way, we travelled through herds of sheep and cattle. We saw one woman dressed in traditional attire, sitting on the hillside knitting, while she tended her sheep.

The weaving cooperative at Chinchero was started in 1996 and represents a different 9 communities and weaving traditions from the ones we visited at Amaru. We were greeted warmly as they covered rock walls with woven blankets for us to sit on. Then they served us a cup of coca tea. This tea is good for preventing altitude sickness and we have consumed large quantities.  I hope no one has to take a drug test in the near future!

The ladies demonstrated their backstrap weaving and dyeing techniques. They were dress exquisitely and wore stockings and lace petticoats under their colorful skirts. Each one wore an embroidered blouse, a vest and an elaborately beaded and embroidered jacket. In our broken Spanish (they actually speak Quechua) we learned that their husbands do the embroidery on their clothing by machine. They also showed us how to wrap the bundles, including babies, that they carry on their backs all day and continue their work of knitting, weaving, farming or herding. Amost every Andean woman always has a bundle on her back.

Protest March

For certain, this volunteer role is not like what we’ve done before in Brazil. Today, after serving the abuelos breakfast and quickly washing the dishes, our job was to help them participate in a march and rally protesting violence against women and children. I don’t read much Spanish, but I’m pretty sure there were also reproductive rights included as well, although that was not mentioned when I asked Sister Jackie what we were marching for or against.

We started in a park and walked for an hour and a half. This is quite an undertaking for these elderly people, some of whom were only wearing slippers, instead of real shoes. There were a variety of organizations represented, including several large groups of children. Everyone carried signs and banners, sang and clapped as we made our way to a plaza in front of the police station.

There was considerable police presence and apparently the female police officers of the neighborhood were also organizers of the rally. There is a police station that is only women since for so long the male police officers were part of the problem. Officers blocked the road to ensure that no one interfered with the march, although one asked what the march was for – just a job for them, I guess, to protect the marchers since it was apparently sanctioned by the city.

At the end of the march there were speakers, music, singers and dancers. Apparently civil protest combined with music and dance is the norm in much of South America. And by the way, the road is still blocked, five days later, from Juliaca to Puno because the government will not agree to provide the money for road repairs needed in the jungle. Very, very different from our experiences in Brazil.

First Day at Work

We woke up early this morning ready for our first day of volunteering with Cross-Cultural Solutions in Lima. There were only seven volunteers here in the house until we arrived, but a large group starts over the weekend. I am very grateful that we were able to begin our assignment early before the crowd arrives. We learned last week that we will be working at Los Martincitos, a daycare facility for the elderly located in Villa El Salvador.

Villa El Salvador is a planned community where some of Lima’s poorest residents live. Many of the elderly have come from the highlands and do not speak much Spanish and others are neglected by their families. Los Martincitos provides two meals and activities on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Sister Jackie makes home visits to check on people who are too ill to attend the program or those who have been missing for a few days.

Since today is Thursday, we spent our first day on the job with Sister Jackie and another volunteer making home visits. I now have an idea of what it must be like for a social worker. Villa El Salvador is a pretty dreary community. Although it is beachfront property, it is extremely dry and dusty, and this time of year there is a damp penetrating chill. Several of the homes we visited had no electricity because they had not paid their bills.

We visited about a dozen elderly residents between 8:30 and 1. It was clearly the highlight of their day to have guests. Houses ranged from spotless to dirt floors with no roof. There were dogs, cats, roosters and grandchildren. Today’s additional goal was to inform the abuelos (as they are called) of a new government subsidy program that needs forms filled out, even though Sister Jackie has little confidence that the program will actually be implemented.

Tomorrow is the last day for two of the volunteers, so we went out to dinner at a fancy restaurant by the ocean in the classy part of Lima. Quite a contrast from how we spent the morning.

Travel Update

In case you were wondering if we made it to the airport, we did and it was another adventure.  Jose Luis, our guide, and Juan Carlos, the driver, showed up looking a little anxious. Juan Carlos was wearing driving gloves. That was a clue. Most of the group was continuing to Bolivia, but eight of us were headed for the airport in a small van to fly back to Lima.

We quickly maneuvered the narrow crowded city streets of Puno and turned onto what pretended to be a country road. We had to make our way around the 48 hour old blockade to reach the airport. The first part of the journey was narrow and winding with deep ruts. Every time we approached another vehicle, tricky maneuvering was required. Then the road ended. Ahead of us was a dried up lake bed/salt flat. If this were the rainy season, our efforts would have been domed. We turned right onto the flat.

Cars, trucks and vans careened on this desiccated lake bed in a blinding storm of dust and salt. I have no idea how Juan Carlos could see where he was driving as we bounced along the ruts and he dodged the other vehicles. At one point, Larry asked if I was outside my comfort zone. I’m not sure I even have one anymore.

Next came the fields with animals and irrigation ditches. And the raised railroad track where we had to get out and walk and the men had to pile up rocks so that the van could get over the tracks. After an hour, we finally reached the main highway. And then on to the airport.

The traffic in Lima was almost as harrowing as the previous experience. I was glad to be facing backward in the CCS van so I didn't have to see what was ahead. So now the new phase of the trip begins. I'll catch up on the rest of the vacation travel as time permits since it appears we have reliable wi-fi here at the CCS house. 

Oh My God!

Do you remember when I said that in a post about Brazil? Well, at least this time I wasn't nearly killed. But you never know how these things are going to go. I'm several posts behind, but I want to tell you about our trip from Cusco to Puno at Lake Titikaka.

I should have learned by now that a trip to South America is likely to provide some unexpected events. The plan for Monday was to fly from Cusco to Juliaca then take a bus for an hour to Puno on Lake Titikaka. That was the plan. But it didn't quite go that way. Our flight was weather delayed which meant we probably wouldn't get our walking tour of Puno before dark. But it gets much worse.

About a half hour into the bus ride was came to a massive traffic jam on the highway. We learned that a group of protestors from a local village in the jungle had staged a well organized road block to protest the government's lack of attention to their needs. They are asking for basic services such as schools and roads. They had tried a march in the square the previous day with no success and decided to take more drastic measures. They had filled several miles of the road with rocks, boulders, glass, bonfires and protesters to prevent all flow of traffic.

After sitting for about 45 minutes, our guides decided the best course of action was for us to get out and walk the two mile blockade. Treking two miles in the dark, uphill at an altitude of nearly 12,000 feet was not what we had anticipated for the evening.

We scrambled to gather our most important belongings and put on warm clothes since the temperature was dropping quickly and would soon be near freezing. We formed a line and began to weave carefully between the improvised rock walls, bonfires, boulders and glass that covered the highway. We wove between abandoned cars, bulldozers, gas and oil tankers and even a truck loaded with furniture for delivery . Everything had come to a standstill. It was hard to tell which vehicles were a planned part of the blockade and which were stranded.

Hundreds of people joined us as we slowly marched toward Puno. Almost as many headed the other way. Businessmen, tourists, schoolchildren, dogs, Andean women with large bundles on their backs and parents with crying babies. We looked like a mass exodus of refugees trudging toward a new home.

The trek went smoothly until we came to the main point of protest. A gas tanker blocked the intersection and hundreds of people milled around bonfires singing. We weren't sure if they would let us pass. It was a tense moment as we all bunched together and passed through the protesting crowd. They made no attempts to stop us and as I looked into their faces they looked pleasant and friendly. Just like us. Why should people who are asking for so little have to resort to such extremes?

A shuttle picked us up on the other side of the blockade took us the resto of the way to our hotel. Our luggage arrived at 1:30am due to the perserverence of eight men who made multiple trips all night on a back road in small vehicles to retrieve it. We were very grateful since we expected to spend the next few days in the same clothes.

The next day our local guide said that many of the protestors had shown concern for us. Many of them said "ola" to me as I passed through and others heard "desculpe" which is an apology. Our guide said some spoke words of encouragement such as "you can make it" and "it's not much further" and asked her if we needed water. We decided they were worried because we were old!

Now it is Wednesday and the road is still blocked because the governement refuses to agree to their demands. Life goes on in Puno. The protests continue in the plaza around the corner. We expect it to take three hours to get to the airport on the back road this afternoon. I hope someone will listen to the protestors. Everyone deserves basic dignity and respect.

Machu Picchu

I’m pretty far behind in our saga because our internet connections have been frustratingly intermittent. Friday morning we set out on our journey to Machu Picchu, one of the highlights of the trip. Instead of taking the train from Cusco, for some reason we drove two hours to another train station. This can be tricky since a stubborn cow, sheep or driver blocking the way can cost you precious time on these sometimes narrow, treacherous roads. We had several delays and just barely made it to the train on time.

But the drive did provide us with the opportunity to enjoy the beautiful Andean scenery. We were driving at an elevation near 12,000 feet. I think of mountains at that height, but this  landscape was miles and miles of plains of farmland with glacier capped peaks in the background. We saw many local people in traditional dress tending their crops and livestock.

The train was very comfortable. For some reason, I had expected rustic. Just as we arrived at the town of Aguas Calientes, where we would stay, it began to rain. We lunched at the park and it rained harder. But we were not deterred. We set out to explore the ruins in spite of the fog and rain.

The climb to the top “window” was rocky, steep and slippery, but I had no difficulty with the altitude so the medicine must work. The view from the top was breathtaking. We spent the next three hours climbing up and down and around various areas until well after the park was closed. I was exhausted, but nothing Motrin and a couple of pisco sours couldn’t cure.

Since the weather was predicted to still be rainy and foggy the next day we decided not to try for sunrise at Machu Picchu which is supposed to be spectacular. Our guide had told us to climb Wayna Picchu (that peak in the background behind the ruins) we needed to get in line at 4am for a reservation. That was not going to happen. But when we arrived at the gate around 10am, we discovered they were letting people in. It was too late for us to make it to the top, but Larry and I decided on the spur of the moment to go as high as we could before we had to catch the bus.

It was very steep and slippery and we had to take it slowly. The view of the ruins was awesome. Do I look like I'm dying? That blank looking spot in the background far below is Machu Picchu. I had no idea I could do something that difficult. We only made it three quarters of the way to the top, but the important thing was that I know I could have made it all the way given enough time. Next trip.

Into the Sacred Valley

Does every trip have one of those days where you climb the mountain three times before you find where you’re going? Maybe only Nancy Crow’s trips. Today was that day for Peru. We started out on the bus headed for Amaru, where a group of weavers is continuing their village’s traditional style of weaving. There will be no report on Cuzco from yesterday because I was stricken with violent food poisoning on Tuesday night and missed all of yesterday’s explorations. But back to today.

After about an hour of driving on harrowing, narrow dirt roads, we encountered our first obstacle. A large bulldozer in the road. And a car in the ditch. Our guide talked the bulldozer into backing up, some of the men helped lift the car back onto the road, but we learned we were going the wrong way. So the bus had to turn around as well.

Now we head in a different direction. In another 30 minutes we come to a washed out bridge with a river running through the road. No way is the driver going to take his bus through the water. But again, we are going the wrong way, so it was just as well. We picked up a local young man who actually knew how to get where we were headed. And very soon (all this on fear-inducing roads with drop offs on the side you don’t even want to think about) we arrived at Amaru.

We were greeted like royalty. The whole group of weavers came out to greet us with music, to shake our hands in welcome and shower us with flower petals. Through our translator they explained their traditional process for shearing the alpacas, spinning and dyeing the yarns with natural dyes and gave us weaving demonstrations.

Next they invited us to lunch. They brought out a large mound of dried fava beans, multiple varieties of potatoes and large kernel corn. They also had quinoa soup and chicha, their version of beer for us to try. They played more music, asked us all to dance and our departure was as ceremonial as our arrival.

After lunch, we visited the large cooperative, Awana Kancha, the project where all the 16 villages work together to sell their weaving. There were more demonstrations on how they dye the fiber and we got to feed and play with the llamas and alpacas. They are so beautiful and friendly. Every one has a different face, just like people. I could have stayed with them for hours.

We will return to Pisac in the Sacred Valley on Sunday. It was difficult to see the remains of the destruction from January’s floods. I remember hearing that Machu Picchu was closed from mudslides, but didn’t really think so much about the human toll of the flooding. We don’t really get much South American news in the US. Many lives were lost and the damage to homes, roads, bridges and businesses in the Sacred Valley was extensive. There is still repair work going on everywhere.

Tomorrow we leave early for Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu where I think there is no internet. Meanwhile, if you want to read more about the food, check out Tastemonials.

Tuesday morning

We are headed for Cuzco this morning. We’ve spent the last few days in Lima in a whirlwind of traffic, noise, food and museums. Much to our dismay, most of the museums do not allow photos. The last stop yesterday was a textile museum with an unbelievable collection of really old weaving, knitting and other types of textiles. There were examples over 2000 years old that looked as new as today, both in quality and design. Stripes, plaids, intricate patterns and bold graphics. It was a little difficult because the woman in the museum spoke only Spanish. I concentrated very hard and actually understood more than I expected of what she was saying about the techniques used for dyeing, weaving and other methods of creation.

We also visited the Mercado (marketplace). There were many stalls and vendors with woven and knitted alpaca scarves, shawls and hats, representative of Andean traditions. Lots of other local crafts as well. I couldn’t help but compare this market area to those we’ve experienced in other countries. For a Latin American comparison, the vendors are far more aggressive in Brazil than here. In Brazil, it is not acceptable to be rude, but they are politely very pushy, So far, in all the market stalls we’ve visited in Lima, the people are very soft-spoken and gentle. They are willing to bargain, but they do not wave their goods in your face and try to convince you to buy. Far more subtle than any other markets we’ve ever shopped.

I suspect when we return to Lima next week, I’ll have may more observations about the culture and how it compares to our experiences in Brazil. My initial impression is that Lima is a large, crowded city. A little shabby, but very clean for a population of 9 million people. 

Lima

Yesterday was rough. We didn't get to our hotel and to bed until 6am. Our tour was supposed to leave at 9:30. But we didn’t know that. So due to miscommunication, I missed not only breakfast, but the bus. At least I was able to join the group later by taxi.

My first stop with the group was the Chorillos fish market. It was a small fishing port for local family fisherman. They build their boats, make their nets, catch the fish, sell their catch and have little restaurants right there to serve it. We were there too early to eat, as they were just setting up for the morning. The fish and other assorted unknown seafood entities looked fresh and beautiful. Larry doesn't think this photo even looks like seafood.

We visited the Larco Museum which houses an extensive collection of Peruvian artifacts that have been excavated over the years. I was particularly intrigued by the unusually shaped ceramic jugs. It was an excellent overview of ancient Peruvian culture.

Our welcome dinner was held at a beautiful restaurant on a pier here in the Miraflores section of Lima. From our table by the window, we could see (and feel) rather large Pacific waves crashing into the pylons, shaking the whole building. Sometimes they crashed with such force, we couldn’t hear the conversation.

A central topic at our dinner table was concern about altitude sickness when we arrive in Cuzco tomorrow. Everyone at the table plans to take the preventive medication, but at a table of ten, no two people had the same number of pills or the same dosing instructions. I only have four days worth, whereas someone else has thirty. Makes you wonder who’s right. Hopefully everyone! I guess we’ll know by tomorrow night.

I’ll be writing about the culinary aspects of our trip at www.tastemonials.net. Check it out if you want to see what Peruvian delicacies we’ve eaten.

Saturday afternoon, still at SFO

We are not off to an ideal start. Although the airline website says we departed on time, it's hours later and we're still sitting here. There is currently a five hour posted delay. We spent three hours standing in line to check in. We thought our process should be easier than the people who were missing connections and having to re-book and rearrange, but no such luck. Our reservation had disappeared. Somehow it all got straightened out (except for the delay) and we got free lunch for our inconvenience.

The good part about the long wait was that we met some great people while standing in line. One couple about our ages were headed to Buenos Aires and then Patagonia. I think their travels are going to be really messed up. Also, a delightful young couple trying to get home to Sao Paulo from their vacation in San Francisco. We were well entertained for the three hours comparing food and travel stories.

Hopefully we'll depart in another hour and a half and we'll arrive in Lima at about 5am. Ugh. I hate flying all night.