I tried to write a Thanksgiving blog post, but it came out exactly like you’d expect a Peace Corps/Perú Thanksgiving blog post to come out--how it’s the simple things in life that are most meaningful, and our relationships with other people matter more than “things,” blah, blah, blah. You’ve read it before, in one form or another, every year, and it’s all still true—even moreso in Perú. I don’t mean to devalue any of it, and I can assure you that we spent a good bit of time reflecting on the unique lessons of our time in Perú, and what it all means in the context of Thanksgiving. We’re sure that you did likewise with your own situations—and we suspect that in principle, they’re not that different. So, let’s move on to the stuff that only your correspondents in Chivay can tell you!
That said, we had a great Thanksgiving day. We never tire of walking through the market here, it’s even better than going to the IGA in
We staggered home with an 8-kilo turkey, 2 kilos of potatoes, 2 kilos of camote (sweet potato), bread, fruit, and various spices, and set about making a feast. My sister, Liz, had sent some dried cranberries, so we were able to include a sumptuous sauce in the menu. Enrique fished an old gas oven out of their storage area, so we hooked it up and, after assuring ourselves that we wouldn’t detonate West Central Chivay when we lit the burners, we made an epic, yet highly aromatic, mess of the kitchen. To keep everyone happy, we also bought about 3 liters of Peruvian wine for a bit more than US $10. To cover up the taste, they just make it very, very sweet. You can imagine . . .
Net result: Enrique said it was the best meal of his life, in spite of my frantic signals not to continue in that vein while sitting next to his wife, Amanda, who has been making his meals for 21 years and is the heart and soul of their restaurant, Antares. No fuss ensued, though, and maybe she even agreed, as we gorged on apple and pecan pies a la mode. (A tip of the hat to fellow PCV Chris Heather, who pitched in to help us get it all done, thereby earning a share of the leftovers).
Chivay is thankfully devoid of Christmas cheer at this point—it’s hard to find any sign at all that the holiday is coming, aside from the ubiquitous “panetones,” sort of a cross between a loaf of white bread and a fruitcake, but the size of a small archeological site. I get the impression that everyone in Perú gives everyone else at least 14 panetones during the holidays.
Chivay IS preparing for the big festival of the year, the Fiesta de la Virgen de la Inmaculada Concepción, which is celebrated with several days of drinking and dancing the Wititi, Dec. 8-11. It’s an honest festival, with hardly any consideration at all for tourists, thrown to celebrate and preserve the local cultures. “Wititi” translates from the Quechua, more or less, as (ahem) to make love, but it’s usually billed just as “the dance of love.” It has its origins in the mix of the two aboriginal cultures in the Colca valley, the Quechua-speaking Cabanas, whose pre-Inca origins stem from the ancient Wari culture of central
The Wititi celebrates the legend that men of the Cabana culture, in order to get close to the Collagua women, would dress as women, including a hat with a fringed brim to hide their faces. Thus, they could sneak into the fiestas and dance with the women. (A variant has them dressing as women to get close to the Spanish conquistadors to cut their throats, but that’s SO not romantic.) So now we have brass bands blowing their lips off for 3-4 days, and a plaza filled with men in pulleras (traditional skirts) and monteras (the hats), dancing away with similarly-dressed women. Jean has bought her pullera and is looking for the rest of the authentic outfit, and I’ve arranged to borrow my pullera and montera. There will be feasts and who knows what to accompany the doings—we’ll give you a full report.
So what have we been up to since our last post, so long ago? We’ll start with “work,” since that’s what your tax dollars are supporting us to do.
We hadn’t planned to return to
To get to
Our artisans did well for themselves, with some unique products (and some just like many others), and the
Our other main job focus is tourism, so we attended a 2-day Forum on Tourism at a retreat in the valley. It was about what you’d expect at any such gathering, a lot of blah-blah, and a few kernels of really good stuff. The nut to crack is how to help the people here take advantage of the torrent of tourists, most of whom are paying guides in
We’re also working out a proposal to do some training for the hotel and restaurant association in Chivay.
For fun? Yeah, we’ve done some of that . . . We owe a debt to the philosophy of Ace Steele, whose motto of “fun once a day, Big Fun once a week” we try to follow. We’re still happy enough with our situation that just walking across town, through the market and the Plaza de Armas, constitutes our daily fun.
We visited the 700-year-old, very spooky pre-Inca ruins of Tapay Viejo. Tapay is a community accessible only on foot, and there’s no real path to the ruins, which are fairly extensive and rarely-visited. They include a small cave full of human skulls and bones, and pottery. Definitely an Indiana Jones moment. We can’t even begin to describe the precipitous trail to get there, but we’ll be happy to show it to you if you visit. Huge fun.
We biked a nice half-day circuit from Chivay up to Canocota, on a (mostly) paved road, then made the descent home on an Inca road alongside the river. Some of that involved carrying the bikes down a stone staircase, still more-or-less intact centuries after its construction. The trail back to Chivay passes through a canyon of basaltic lava flows (OK, the whole Province is one big basaltic lava flow, reminiscent of eastern
And, at the invitation of a mixed group of guides and workers at another local NGO, we loaded our bikes on the bus, and got off at the dizzying Mirador de los Volcanes, elevation 15,800 feet. There, we mounted up, and made an indescribably thrilling descent back to Chivay, nearly 4,000 vertical feet below. (A bit intimidating, when two of them suited up in full motorcycle helmets and skateboard-style body armor.) We saw herds of domestic alpaca, llamas, and sheep, wild vicuña galloping across the slopes, odd alpine flora (it might have been sentient, hard to tell with those alpine life-forms), and outrageous mountain vistas. It had a bit of everything, some challenging single-track, some less-challenging double-tracks, some no-track-at-all, and a whizzing couple of kilometers of pavement in the middle, to connect all the rough parts. In Spanish, what we were following is called a “trocha,” and I have to wonder if that isn’t the root for “atrocious,” as some of it definitely was. Still--definitely Big Fun.
For the record, all the above also count as “work,” since part of tourism development involves acquainting ourselves with touristic resources and activities that have yet to be developed as commercial activities. These excursions definitely count, and we’re actively working with guides and others to develop them, while preserving their unique characteristics.
And our host family—we really love these guys, we have so much to share. On Dec. 2 we went to mass with them to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Amanda’s father’s death. Some of the service was sung in Quechua. Every day is a revelation of some sort.
So there it is. Some days we’re so focused on the “little stuff” that our biggest frustrations seem to be the slow speed of the internet connection in Chivay, and the excessive time we have to spend on buses; then we step back and look at the miserable condition of everyone’s teeth due to poor oral hygiene, the artisans selling beautiful works ridiculously cheap because they don’t properly value their own time spent on the work, and the unbalanced scales of “industrial tourism” vs. benefits for the community at large, and get a better grip on why we're here. We suffer from “mental whiplash” every day, as does anyone who looks at Perú with their eyes open. We’re here to be your “eyes.”