New Friends in New Places

The pueblo of Maras is unlike any place I have ever visited for a number of reasons: its stillness interrupted occasionally by the sounds of farm animals, its breathtaking views of the Andes, its expansive salt flats…I could go on. However, as my classmates and I said our goodbyes and boarded our bus for Cusco, I realized what made Maras so remarkable: the people. Specifically, their humbleness, work ethic, and hospitality.

The salt flats of Maras, known as Las Salinas

            

I was certainly apprehensive when Profe. informed us that we would be staying in the homes of local laborers while in Maras. Eating unfamiliar meals, hiking in the sun without showering, and sleeping in a cold, firm bed was not my idea of a weekend getaway, but I tried my best to keep an open mind. After spending just a few minutes with our hosts for the weekend – Don Amilcar, Jesusa, and Vicky – my hesitations were long forgotten. They were patient when we struggled to walk to the salt flats, when we drowned their Andean songs with our irregular drum-beats, and when we balked at their guinea pigs. They kindly served us four-course meals and made us comfortable despite the night chill by building a fire and distributing blankets. Certainly, I felt the most connected to our hosts when I fully immersed myself in their routine chores and practices – setting the dinner table, picking up a pitcher of chica from a neighbor, and (my favorite part of the weekend) donning in a traditional Quechuan costume and dancing to Amilcar’s ukulele and pan-flute music.

Posing with Vicky (left) and Jesusa (right)

It was a strange feeling, visiting a village that has resisted the modernization and conveniences that I take for granted – Wi-Fi, central heating, even round-the-clock running water. Without a doubt, living without these amenities, even for a day, was a sacrifice. However, I don’t think that I would have appreciated or embraced the culture and people of Maras without the tradeoff. While I was initially reluctant to venture so far out of my comfort zone, I am now immensely grateful for my new Quechuan friends and our incredible moments of connection in the most unlikely of places.

Dancing and playing music with Jesusa, Vicky, and Don Amilcar

Ceviche All Day

When you think of the word ceviche, what exactly comes to mind? For me, ceviche entails something of a certain elegance or level of richness only found at the highest quality restaurants in the United States. I may be making an overgeneralization, however, I find that most Americans view ceviche the same way I do- as a dish not eaten daily. However, after spending a few days dining throughout Lima, I have found that ceviche has a different meaning to Peruvian culture. I always said I could eat ceviche for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; Well, in Lima I practically did. Ceviche is almost embedded in Lima’s natural daily cuisine. Peruvians view ceviche not as a selective dish, but rather as a commonality found on many restaurant menus’.

When we took a cooking class at el restaurante El Bolivariano in Lima, their Peruvian chefs taught us how to hand-make a classic ceviche dish. The simplicity of the ingredients used to make Peruvian ceviche took me by surprise. As I looked at the ingredients in front of the chef, I saw simply cut peppers, onions, ginger, tomato, corn, and basil along with salt, and a simple homemade sauce tasting primarily of lime. The chef mentioned that the specific type of fish used didn’t matter as much as the technique of filleting the fish. She then mixed the filleted fish in a bowl with the sauce and equally proportioned spoonful’s of each ingredient and plated the finished masterpiece. Hand-made ceviche can obviously not be mass produced, however, I found the preparation to be rather simple and easy to follow. The chef at El Bolivariano, to me, disproved an American stereotype about ceviche. Perhaps the name ceviche itself gives it a type of elegance, but in Peruvian culture this dish can be found everywhere and at a decent price I may add.  

Lima has desert not just dessert

I had many misconceptions coming to Peru – that there were not any large modern cities, that llama and alpaca were two names for the same animal, and that the entire country was either coastline or highlands. I was completely unaware of the huge desert and lack of rain that permeate so much of the country, including Lima. When I began to consider what I should discuss in my first blog post, I thought to what questions baffle me the most. While not a particularly sexy question, I had never seen a coastal desert and wondered how that was possible given what I knew about the forming of normal deserts. Furthermore, I was always intrigued by how these huge cities and civilizations developed when a large part of the area received no rain and why. 

The first question was answered by our first tour guide Ronaldo as we travelled throughout Lima. The waters of the Pacific off the coast of Peru are an intersection point for two currents, one of them being the Humboldt. This current is unique due to the influx of cold water it brings right off the coast, which has the effect of sucking moisture out of the surrounding land instead of providing it with rain, creating a coastal desert.

The second question proved to be less straightforward and more subject to interpretation, but also far more interesting. Ancient cultures in the South American deserts, from the Sechura to the Atacama, used different techniques for acquiring and storing water for the dry seasons. Lima relies on glacial runoff and other means to get its water, but another method was via lomas, oasis-like pockets of vegetation that emerge during July and November. These acted as life lines for animals and populations by the trapping of fog created by the same Humboldt current that creates the coastal deserts in the first place. These lomas have been declining recently due to deforestation and global warming, causing people to turn back to other techniques, some ancient in nature. One plan involves refurnish old structures called amunas originally constructed by the Wari people, which allows rainwater to sink into the ground and highlands instead of flowing all downstream, creating a store of water that resurfaces during the dry season.

Urban Planning in the City of Cuzco

My first impression of Cuzco was that it reminded me of Toledo, a medieval town in Spain. I adored the cobblestone streets, old churches, and archways that surrounded the main plaza, called La Plaza de las Armas. However, yesterday myself and three other students decided to stray from the main city center and walk uphill, to see what could be found towards the less touristy areas of Cuzco. What I observed on our stroll was that although La Plaza de las Armas is an obvious meeting place and hangout spot for tourists and native Peruvians alike, it was not the only part of the city which aims to serves tourists. That is to say, I realized that Cuzco was unlike other cities I had experienced, in which there is a designated touristy area with hotels and shops. Conversely, as we walked farther and farther from the bustling plaza, I noticed that although we were obviously getting into a more residential area, there were just as many hotels and hostels lining the streets. As I peered down a street from the main drag we were walking on, I saw this:

 

It appeared that unlike cities in Europe, such as Paris or Madrid, there was no major distinction between the tourist and residential parts of the city. It actually seems that (outside of the area immediately surrounding La Plaza de las Armas) the main streets are lined with hotels, shops, and restaurants (aimed mostly at tourists) and the local people of Cuzco live off of these main streets, usually up into the mountains a bit. I think this sort of urban planning was very smart for a city that sits amongst mountains, because it enables a few major streets to contain tourist attractions, while still allowing the locals to live in all parts of the city. If Cuzco were to be separated into district-like areas, as many large cities are, I think it would force the native peoples to live in concentrated urban areas, for economic reasons. This is turn would create more poverty and less opportunity for integration and interaction between Cuzceños and foreigners. For example, separating these groups would mean that many older women in particular could not get to the touristy part of the city to sell handmade goods, whereas since they live on an offshoot of a main street, they are able to easily walk a few blocks and make their living selling their products. Although it seems to be obvious once you think about it, I admire the foresight of urban city planners in Cuzco for taking into consideration the lives of local Peruvians in the midst of creating a city plan that is conducive to tourism.

Talk Church-y to Me

     One of the most beautiful things about the Mass is that it is the same in every language across the worldwide Catholic population. With this in mind, I attempted to follow the flowing romance language that accompanied the parts of mass I've come to know well, while also attempting to follow the standing, sitting, and kneeling of Peruvians around me.
     Sadly there were too many differences in translation for me to say anything except "y con tu espíritu" and start the "nuestro Padre" only for Profe. to correct me that it is "Padre nuestro." Another line that stood out as different in translation was that in English we say "it is right and just," where the Peruvians said "es justo y necesario," which has a slightly different meaning.
      As it was a Monday evening service at 6 PM in La Iglesia de la Compañía de Jesús (a Jesuit church) in La Plaza de Armas here in Cusco, the turnout was not very high for such a large Cathedral. However, there was still an array of ages in the church, and most people were dressed very casually, though the priest was in his vestments that looked the same as any in the US. People offered one another the sign of peace with either a handshake or hug as at any other mass, but there was none of the music or chanting I was used to, and it ended up being the shortest mass I've ever been to, clocking in at almost exactly 30 minutes.

     In comparison, last night we briefly popped into a (what Profe. called) "peasants' mass" in Pisac and got to hear festive singing as part of the service. This is from the mix of Catholic layered on top of the old Quechua rituals, keeping some of that celebratory aspect where Catholic masses are usually drier.

     The main thing I've learned from attending mass here though is that I really need to look up the order of mass in Spanish before I go again, because it's very awkward when you're sitting in the second row with Profe. and Alejandra on either side reciting everything word for word in perfect Spanish. Amen.

LIFTOFF IN LIMA

                                                          LIFTOFF IN LIMA
                                                          By Charlie Hawkins
It's day one in Lima and I can feel the energy as this trip gets underway. The drive to the Hostal Killari was scenic, as a cross shined on top of a cliff over the Pacific Ocean in the night sky. The smell of ceviche and pisco sour fills the warm Peruvian air. Love Park known as the Parque de Amor was a lovely sight on our first day touring Lima. Shopping has commenced in Lima, as people are eager to bring home souvenirs, and San Antonio has been the spot for our group, having eaten there twice. Hostal Killari serves a killer breakfast of eggs and bread every day, which tastes better than the sand that many people consumed while sandboarding down the sand dunes of the Peruvian desert. Getting our feet wet through experiencing the culture and history of Peru's capital has been a great introduction to our Maymester. If the trip is anywhere close to as good to me as my new argan oil has been, I can say with confidence that this trip was a Maymester worth taking.