The Streets of Huanchaco...

The last afternoon I was in Huanchaco, my good friend Roxi (after following me around all morning to see the toursity things like the amazing church) was kind enough to suggest to a 16ish year old boy playing guitar in front of his families restaurant, that I should play.

Tired as I was, I thought this was a grand idea as well, little did I know...

I played my ususal standby songs, closer to fine, blackbird....this caught the Huanchacan boys interest, so I somehow managed to show him the basics of the song. I really am not much of a teacher. But he was an amazing guitarist so, it worked out. Then he played a little twist and shout and some other Beatles songs as I sang my guts out. He asked me to play another, and I was feeling the Cab Calloway-- Minnie the Moocher vibe, so I stuck that one out there for my passerby audience.

I was about half-way through the song when a woman from inside the restaurant came out and told me something that sounded like be quieter please, she was incredibly difficult to understand as she may or may not have been intoxicated at 2 in the afternoon. So, I sang the verse more quietly, and when I got to the chorus, she is all up in my face screaming "HIDY HIDY HIDY HIDY" which is when I realize she knew the song. So, I turned up the volume with her.

And we continued. Quiet verses, loud chorus. She made me sing it three times, when I kindly returned the guitar to my new goodly Huanchacan friend whose name was promptly forgotten as all I could think was 1. How on earth did she know that song? and 2. Why can't I get that kind of participation back home?

Roxi didn't quite understand why I kept exlaiming "THAT WAS FANTASTIC! I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT JUST HAPPENED! THAT WAS FANTASTIC!"

but it was.
all for me, for now.
k.

Words I never though would pass my lips...

did.

I miss my electric shower.

I still can't believe I said that. But here is the story. About half way through September, my MamaP started the process of having a hot water heater installed. Fantastic! I initiallyt thought. And then I saw the size of the hot water heater, about 2.5 feet tall and a foot or so round (aka much smaller than any other water heater you have ever heard of), but overall I was still excited as I had still not made peace with the crazy shower of death.

And then a month passed, and the shower and I got along better, and I had real hot water and my MamaP no longer thought I was a dirty hippie, and then it was gone. And my shower did not work. and 3 more men had to come to the house to fix it (I think in total it took 7 technically inclined men to install the water heater). And then my shower worked, and there was no scary electrical wires or subtle shocks as I showered.

However, the size of the water heater does make a difference when showering. I am finding that I must run through my shower once more. I only get about 5 minutes of hot water, then it tapers off rather quickly.

Yes, this may just be me complaining, but too bad. I am learning a lot about myself and my life and what I need. I can give up my yoga work out privacy, I can give up my personal bubble on a bus, I can even give up milk (though I am taking calcium pills) but, I need people who can remember my name and I need hot water for showers.

all for me, for now.
katie

A trip to 3 H's, A 3 H tour, or 3 nights without sleep...

This blog is separated into three parts for the three towns I visited the week before last. Huancavelica, Huancayo, and Huanuco. Each unique in it's own way, each with it's own unique story...



Huancavelica, aka ¡Me Asustó!...

This was my second trip to Huancavelica since coming to Peru. It is a very small college town in the Andean mountains and by far the biggest town in it's region. And when I say small, it not only refers to the size of the city itself, but also to it's inhabitants. Please note the previous picture of myself in a restaurant where I can not stand up. Ack.


Funnily enough this story takes place in another restaurant in Huancavlica and also has to do with my size......... We had just shown the documentary about the Ica/Huancavelica water issue and Conrado (my boss), Leslie (other YAV), Angelica (my favorite Peruvian and director of ATIYPAQ) along with a few members of the panel from the documentary decided to have dinner at pollo a la brasa (a chain of restaurants where you can order half a chicken for dinner). We ate and talked and had a great time.

Then, when it was time to leave, we did the normal thing....we all scooted out and stood up and put on our coats. However, as I stood up, the man at the next table exclaimed "¡Me asustó!" and started laughing while holding his heart. I did not understand. But Leslie started laughing. I asked her to explain. Basically, when I stood up, I scared the crap out of the man because I am so tall. He wasn't expecting it and I scared him.

His table all started laughing, my table started laughing, the rest of the restaurant started laughing and so did I. It was hilarious. and I have a feeling I will never be able to visit Huancavelica without seeing child trip himself while staring at me, or without my height causing a scene.


Huancayo, aka Last Stop...


I have a friend in Bremerton who is a Seattle bus driver. And he has some fantastic stories from work. One I like in particular is called Last Stop. He had stopped at a bus stop, people entered the bus, sat down, and he started on his way again. Just like any other day, until he heard pounding on the side of the bus. He looked and there was an old man trying to get on. Most days he would have left the old man, but he was in a particularly generous mood and stopped the bus, allowing the man to enter. Well, he more hobbled onto the bus. Taking his time, the old man explained to his bus driver that he had a bad leg and it took him a little bit longer to get around than most people. And he couldn't believe that the bus driver almost left him, etc. My friend started driving, quickly regretting stopping for the man. As the bus lurched forward, the old man almost fell over and repeated very loudly that he had a bad leg, he needed more time to sit down. So, my friend the bus driver, stopped so the man could sit. Again the man explained about his bad leg until he finally reached his seat. He continued on his route, stopping, starting. Folks entering and exiting. Until it was the last stop and he had to return to the bus depot. He announced that it was the last stop and everyone exited the bus. Everyone except for the old man who had barely stood up. Again, my friend announced LAST STOP. The old man looked at him angrily and yelled back BAD LEG. LAST STOP, louder this time. BAD LEG! the man stopping his trek to the door everytime he yelled back. LAST STOP OLD MAN! BAD LEG! and on it went until the man finally exited the bus and the door was closed on his butt. Swearing to never stop for any old people ever again, the bus driver returned to the bus depot, his generous attitude possibly gone forever.

So, when Leslie and I went to Huancayo to visit artisan group Llamcay Tuki, specifically artisans Rosa and Daniel, I wasn´t thinking about a bus. We took a taxi to their home; starting in the center of Huancayo and driving to the outskirts as fields of artichokes and rural houses passed us by. We were greeted by a very pregnant Rosa (9 months and waiting for the new member of the family to join the world). We spent a few hours with them finding out how they burn designs into the gourds and brainstorming ideas for other things that they could make. It was fantastic.

And when we were finished, Daniel brought us to the main road and found the bus we needed. He told us the name of the street we were to get off on and explained how close it was to where we had been earlier that day. In my head, I am thinking that we will recognize the area in which we needed to bajar(get off) the bus. At one point Leslie asked the name of the street we were on, and it wasn't the one we needed and the bus continued to drive. It continued on and on and started to leave the central commercial area. I was nervous. Leslie reassured me we were fine. We finally asked the cobrador(person who collects the fair) where we needed to get off and she told us we should have gotten off when we asked what street we were on. we asked how long it would take until the bus drove back past the same spot. She said maybe a half hour or so. So, we were stuck riding the bus around the town for a bit longer.

Then, the bus turned up a small street and slowed to a stop, then began to back up. I was thinking we were corner backing and we would just drive the route in the opposite direction. And then the bus turned off. The bus driver opened his door and exited the bus, and then the cobrador exited as well. I turned to the rest of the bus, and no one else was there. We were at the last stop. The bus was parked and we weren't going anywhere.

Quickly we ran after the cobrador and again asked when the bus was going back the other way. She shrugged and said maybe half an hour or so. She wasn't exactly sure. But lucky us, there was another bus taking off that would drop us off on the exact street we would need.

We made it back to where we needed to be and we enjoyed a beautifully sunny afternoon. I just couldn't believe I was the old man with a bad leg at the last stop.



Huanuco, aka Time in Transit

We finally made it to Huanuco and were reunited with our other YAV's for our first retreat. It was at a place called LaGranja which I found amazing. They had cows and made fresh yogurt and cheese from their milk. They had an immense garden and they raised cuy(guinea pig) for sale in local markets. It was truly an oasis. It is also a haven for girls who have been raped and now have children as a result. The girls were beautiful with their babies, but it was sad at the same time. The oldest was only 15 and her child is nine months old, the youngest is 13 and she has a 2 month old. We did get to spend some time with them and it was great to see them get to be 15 years old. Not having to worry about their baby's for one game of spoons.

Anyway, we spent a few days processing and sharing our experiences thus far. Sang some songs and I was amazed. All of the songs I learned as a small camper came flying back to me, some new ones as well. In particular a song called Light the Fire. It brings tears to my eyes whenever I sang it at camp and here it was the same. At times in my life, I have had a hard time feeling like God was with me. I always felt Him at camp, but other places He seemed aloof to me. But as we sang Light the Fire, I found that the feeling came back. I know feeling the presence of something greater than me, usually has more to do with me than anything else. It was just nice to be reminded of it.

The last day of our retreat we went to Tingo Maria, which is a little city just over a pass, and nestled in the selva(jungle). When making our days arrangements, our tour guide said it would take about 2 and a half hours to get there. In reality, it took four.

We had planned to climb water falls and see a cave filled with owls and if there was time check ou the butterfly sanctuary. In reality, we barely had time to climb and eat before we needed to leave to get Sean to his bus on time, which he still missed as it took 5 hours for the return trip.

Turns out the combi(small bus/oversized van) we had rented for the day had a bad bearing and the driver coulcn't go very fast. That coupled with the horrible road we had to drive on made our in transit time 9 hours instead of 5. Part of me was upset that we didn't get to do the other things we had planned and that we were forced to spend so much time in the stupid combi. But part of me was grateful for the time to zone out. I have spent a lot of the past 6 weeks seeking what I am doing here. I know part of my job is just to be, but what is the other part? And being stuck in that combi made me just be. Nothing to do but sing some songs and contemplate the cosmos (which i actually got to see that night. that makes two times I have seen the stars). I can't imagine what the tour bus that pulled up behind us thought when they heard us singing Silent Night and O Little Town of Bethlehem. Oh well.

I do have to say, however, the next morning (while in another combi) on our way to the bus station I really had had enough when the spare tire the had put on about 5 minutes from La Granja blew about 5 minutes from the bus station.



Traveling inPeru, aka I don't fit, aka No Sleep For Me

The last thing I have to say about traveling in Peru is this. Peruvians only travel at night. They have these oversized chairs that recline in the buses. Upstairs there is a little less room than downstaris where they have bus camas (bus beds). We convinced our supervisors that we need the bus camas so we could sleep, and we did a little bit. But I must point out again my size. Señor Conrado fits wonderfully upstairs on a double decker bus, I don't. I really am not Peruvian sized.

I've Won the War!!!!!

All right folks, I want you to know this blogthought is a week old. I just didn't have time to write it up before I left for a week of adventures in Huancavelica, Huancayo and Huanuco. And that trip is another blog entirely, which i will write in a day or two, I don't want to overwhelm you.

Also, still to come, toothbrush madness on the 10E....

Back to the war... as you all should know by now I have an electric shower head that has been waging a war of cold water on me. There was a truce which basically was me learning to listen to the shower head. I finally figured out what it sounded like when it turned off and the cold water was gonna hit me. And so the truce stood until last week.

I was sitting at the dinner table talking with my host mom and brother about my new haircut (yeah, I finally chopped it. About half of it is gone, though it is still longer than my shoulders). Anyway, I was explaining why I cut my hair (in Spanish) and my reasons were these. 1. It had been about a year since I had had a hair cut. 2. The ends were pretty dry. 3. It was really tough showering cause it took so long to wash my hair, and since the water never stayed warm for very long at once, it was just annoying. Though, I had figured out what it sounded like when it was shutting off and could avoid the cold water now. I also explained that the reason why I only showered once a week when I first got here was because I couldn't work the shower. My host mom laughed and told me she thought I was just a dirty hippie. (just for you Kirk)

But while my host mom laughed, she also looked confused. She told me that the water should be warm all the time and that there was probably something wrong with it. So after dinner, we went into my very small bathroom to investigate. Turns out there is a switch on the shower head that makes the water warmer or colder with symbols signifying which is which. Now, I just sound like an idiot at this point, but honestly, you would have shocked yourself to death before ever taking the shower, so I don't want to hear it. The symbols were not C (caliente=hot) and F (frio=cold). The symbols were two filled in circles for hot and one not filled in circle for cold. This is a great example of Peruvain logic. (by the by, Peruvian logic is a myth. I am not convinced it exists).

Anyway, point being I now have incredibly hot water for showers and it is amazing. No more dirty hippie here. It is wonderful. Also really cool point to be made. I explained all of this in Spanish, which I couldn't do a month ago.

all for me, for now.
katie