Peru, Day 40: Topico? Post? WHAT!

Beware, this post includes some blood and infection and well, as always, Peruvian culture.

For the last month the cuticle on my right thumb has been a bit swollen, so I knew it was infected. I didn't pay much attention to it and assumed it would take care of itself. When it kept getting bigger and bigger and finally formed a white spot in the middle, I knew it was time to do something.

I went to the pharmacy first, but they said I'd have to go see a "topico" at the "post". Um, ok. Thankfully I had a Peruvian friend with me, otherwise I would have been completely lost. We went to the post, waited til 2 when the receptionists' office re-opened, witnessed a bit of an argument about who was first in line, then got told to go back to the topico, I'm not sure what my friends asked/did, but then we were back at the receptionist and I had to tell them my name and family name, and....my other family name? Finally we bought gloves and waited for half an hour for the room to be cleaned, then it was my turn, again, name (which the receptionist had spelled "Deth".... OH. MY!!), family name, age, address, passport number: "Oh, you don't have it? Ok, nevermind." And finally I got my finger nice and poked and squeezed.

It's hard to describe the pain. Honestly, I just don't want to think about it.

We got antibiotics, we got pain medicine, and my finger got drained. I'm pretty sure all of that was less than 20 Soles ($8.50).

And that's another way to do medicine in Peru.

And for the record, I'm pretty sure that very little in that post would have been considered sanitary by American standards. I'm not sure what she used to wash my finger, but it certainly wasn't the alcohol pad I'm used to. As for the gloves and needles, they were sterile, but really, the pain made everything feel like it must be full of bacteria. How could anything sterile feel so drastically painful?!

On a serious note, when it came to the most important things, they were sterile. But just as most everything here, it was simply a lower standard. And I'm not sure what would have happened had I had a similar infection in the US, but I'd like to think I would have gotten something for the pain BEFORE getting drained. I'll never know.

Peru, Day 39: Being Sick

It's flu season in Cusco, and 4 weeks ago I came down with a vicious sinus infection. I went to the clinic at school, the Doctor there wrote down a medicine for me, I took her note to a pharmacy (it was in InkaFarm, but any other would have worked as well) and bought 3-days worth of prescription medicine for 4 Soles ($1.50).

When my friend got the same thing, he went to a pharmacy (BioMedic) and asked what they recommended, bought one of them, asked for a disposable cup, and took his pill with the water from the dispenser by the door pharmacy door.

And when he felt bad again, he went back.

Me on the other hand, well, I've felt sick for several weeks, maybe I just went to the wrong clinic, or pharmacy, or maybe I'm just not used to Andean winters...

Peru, Day 36: Dancing like no one was watching

(Even though they actually were.)

I'm not normally one to get nervous, but I certainly also never envisioned myself dancing in the middle of the mall in Cusco in front of, oh...100+ people, maybe a couple hundred, who knows.

When me friend told me that there was going to be a dance demo in the mall at 4 on Saturday, we agreed we'd both try to go, you know, so neither of us would be alone. Turns out neither of us could make it that day. But no worries! It was cancelled until today at 4! She told me it had been post-poned, and we once again made plans to try to make it.

Well she didn't end up there, but I did.

As I've been dancing almost every night since I got here, and almost every night in the same club, you could say that I may know the dance instructors there. It was their demo, and a few of their friends had shown up.
I was only intending to be there for the experience, maybe some moral support.

But as you already know, I ended up dancing.

It was great, really. I looked at my partner, listened to the music, closed me eyes...just danced! I honestly wasn't thinking about who was seeing what. I don't dance for anyone except myself. I dance because I love dancing. I dance in clubs because I love dancing. I dance in gyms because I love dancing. I dance in my kitchen, in the street, in the shower, in class, anywhere - because I love dancing! And now, apparently, I dance in malls. Why not?

(I don't really dance in the shower. I tried it once. The bruises stuck around for a few weeks...)

Peru, Day 30: All in a Day's Walk

 People, readers, always seem to like pictures. So this post is entirely photos, with some words of explanation. These were taken one morning on my normal walk from my host family's house to the school. They are nothing special, just exactly what I saw every day for over a month.

The orange house on the left is the one in which I lived, this normal middle-class home is in a complex with several other identical houses with a main access gate to the road. It has 3 floors, 2 bathrooms, and 4 bedrooms - perfect for hosting international students.

Huayna Capac, my road. On a normal day the road would be full of motorcycles and dirt bikes for sale. Often businesses of a similar nature grow up next to each other and soon take over whole roads. The gate on the right is my gate. The black awning with the red insignia leads to a Mini Market where you can find anything from avocados to bottled water, you can reload the charge on your phone with either MoviStar or Claro, or just stop in for a bottle of Cusqueño - the local beer, and really, the only beer.

Avenida de la Cultura, one of the busiest and longest roads through Cusco. It's dirty and crowded (normally) and full of both touristy places and local businesses. It runs nearly from the City Center to the outskirts of town, passing the Mall, the University, the Hospital, countless Mini Markets, Pastelerias, Pollerias, Pizzarias, Topicos Tipicos, and Parederos. (Mini Marts, Bakeries, Chicken Restaurants, Pizza places, shops vending typical costumes, and bus stations).

Limac Pampa, one of the many, many, many little squares (circles?) or centers around which Cusco circles in hoards all day every day. Since this photo was taken one of the main roads in town was closed for maintenance and Limac Pampa is always extremely congested, waiting to get through or around this point in Cusco could easily be a 10-20 minute wait even late at night.

Just one block up the road from Limac Pampa is another Limac Pampa, but few spend much time here, and few even consider it a part of Limac Pampa. It's mostly just fountain in front of one of the Luxury, touristy hotels near the Historic Center.

Heading toward the Center from Limac Pampa. You have a choice of many, many roads, this happened to be the one I like...

Not everyone sees these. I got plenty of weird looks photographing the flowers outside one of the upscale shops, but why? Why not stop and notice them?!

By now I think you know me well enough to know that I can't stop myself from capturing the beauty that surrounds me.

The porch is strangely deserted, but then makes the perfect background.

Truly, no one could even guess why I was taking this one, but I think you see now what I saw.

Closing in on the Plaza de Armas, the true Historic Center of the city. The wall on the left is an Incan wall, you can tell by the tilt as it nears the ground. these walls withstand the earthquakes that plague this area of Peru the way we experience tornadoes in Middle Tennessee. This road uncharacteristically does not have a drain running down the middle. Most of the stone roads in Cusco (all the roads not used heavily) have these drains in the middle, most also have two smoother tracks on each side, in the case that a car and rider might wish for a bit of a smoother ride.

THE Cathedral. Yes, folks, this is the famous Cusco Cathedral. I haven't toured it, I don't plan to. I am certain the outside is more beautiful and majestic than the inside, so I'll stick with this view.

And after that view, I leave you with this one. My school. Yes, after walking through all that beauty, history, and majesty, I end up here for hours. Learning Spanish. Only we all know that the real learning happens out in the streets. So excuse me while I turn around and head right back out where I came from. Now you know where I spend my time, and I think you know why I choose to spend it there!

Peru, Day 29: All the Spanish...

YOU WILL EVER NEED IN CUSCO

Believe me, this looks like just a few phrases, but really, what else would you need to say? Take a look...

Don't worry, if you don't want to puke, just substitute "vomitar" for your desired word and add "-ar." Most Spanish-speakers in such a famous tourist location will understand. 

If your goal is falling in love, this is your ultimate guide! And yes, it's a good possibility that he lives with his parents. The Inka Trail really is integral to falling in love. You know, you need those few days apart, alone, cold...to realize how much you really did fall in love with that gorgeous Peruvian you met once. And finally, if the've forgotten about you over those few days (they have, they meet attractive foreigners every single day) just ask about their brother!

Ok. Yes, I'm being sarcastic. But this really does have a lot of useful Spanish on it. And substituting words usually does work. For someone who moved twice in the month before packing for their trip to Peru and forgot their dictionary, this worked quite well.

Joking again.

I actually know a bit more Spanish than this, I've just never seen all the most common phrases grouped so concisely. If you're ever in Peru, just stop by the Choco Museo and pick up your own copy and some free samples! (Heads up, your probably won't say anything about the World Cup...)

Peru, Day 28: One Cloudy Day in Cusco...

This is what a cloudy day in Cusco looks like.

...I dyed my hair purple.

Two years ago, right around this time, I dyed parts of my hair pink. More parts than I'd wanted but that's a bit beside the point by now. I'd thought about it for years, I put temporary dyes in that lasted for a few days, and then one day I just decided that it was time. I bought the dye, put it in my hair, and wha-la. Pink hair!
It lasted for about 6 months, which was perfect.

Almost immediately I started thinking about which color would be next. Purple.

But when? Most businesses in Cookeville won't hire someone with purple hair yet, unfortunately. Further complicating the situation, purple hair dye in middle TN is hard to come by unless you go to a salon and pay upwards of $50. And then there was always the factor that I like my hair the color it is. And furthermore, I was planning a trip to Korea where everyone has black hair. (Or so I thought, it turns out that most people in Korea dye their hair - just not purple.)

And then I kind of forgot about it.

Until this summer.

 I'd thought about cutting my hair for a change, shorter than it's been in years. But I just can't bring myself to do it. So then on Thursday, when I was in the local mall with one of my friends, walking the PlazaVea - the local Wal-Mart equivalent - we wandered into the toiletries section for some shampoo. Then somewhere in my unsuccessful search for shaving cream, I saw the hair dyes. I did the normal quick scan, and what in the world?!? They had purple!! And not the cheap bubble gum or popcorn candy purple. No, the real purple. From Garneir Fructis, a trusted brand. So I bought it. $8.

The Instructions were in Spanish. But like a said, I'd done it before, so...no problems!

 Here are a couple of the results...

Yes, it's a bit subtle. Only seen in certain light. Only seen when I style my hair certain ways. But every time I notice the purple, I just get this happy feeling inside and do a little happy dance. Yes, I think I do the happy dance every time I see the purple. I love it.

Peru, Day 27: When Abroad...

One of the very best parts about travelling in the new people you meet.

And one of the very best parts about meeting new people is all the new things you learn.

Things about them, things about their countries and cultures, things they think about your culture, things that aren't common knowledge about your country, and finally, many things about yourself.

Since I've arrived here I've met too many people to count. My host Mom and sister and the three American girls who've also lived with us. My professors and the staff at Amauta. My classmates who've come and gone. And my friends. Friends from Germany, England, Australia, Switzerland, Holland, America, Brazil, France, and of course, Peru.

It's not easy to describe the influence that these people have had on my experience so far because they have shaped it completely. Without them this would have been a totally different trip.

When I think about how I met each of them, at times it seems straightforward: someone assigned me to this house, or that teacher to our level. But with others it's not so simple. I can't tell you why I happened to be in the same tour group as Nina and why we've seen each other every day since then. Or why I happened to go and talk to the two new people standing together drinking tea during our break one random day. I don't know what prompted me to go and talk to the blond girl sitting on the steps opposite me our very first day in Cusco. Or why we went to that one club instead of any of the others, and why I happened to hit if off perfectly with one of the dance instructors.

These and many more "I can't tell you why's" force me to sit back and smile. I can't help but be thankful for all those "coincidences," or where they choices? Either way, these people have challenged me, hurt me, loved me, taken care of me, fed me, held my hand while I cried, taught me; made me laugh, made me cry, made me try new things, made me grow. New friends force me to see new things and think in new ways. It's a constant challenge, and one that I readily accept.

Peru, Day 26: Er....Dancing Culture...Again.

After writing that whole post about dancing yesterday, I realized that I've not even addressed what kinds of dancing are done!

I think I've mentioned Salsa, yes?

Well this is indeed The Dance of Latin America. It's done in 8/8 timing, as far as I can tell, and is probably the most complex of all the dances I've tried. (Which includes, Israeli Folk Dancing, American Folk Dancing, Square Dancing, English Country Dancing, Swing Dancing, both 20s and 40s Charleston, Lindy Hop, and Blues. Although 40s Charleston is the one exception: I find it a bit more difficult than Salsa.) The music used for Salsa is the kind that makes you want to tap your feet and clap your hands. Salsa is done almost entirely with a partner, and can be either slow, medium-speed, or fast. At first it appears to be a bit more strict when it comes to form and steps, but after a few weeks I've realized that there is no end to the steps and styles that are included under the name "Salsa."

The second most common dance here is Bachata. It's done in 4/4 timing (again, not an expert here, just going off of the music I've been dancing to.) and is quite a bit simpler than Salsa. Bachata can be an extremely sensual type of dance, but can also just be very fun in its simplicity and ease of use. Most music used for Bachata is not as much toe-tapping as it is, well, I've never wanted to move my shoulders more in my life. Weird, I know. But the music, and the dance, is normally very smooth, rhythmic, and catchy. Due to its simplicity and the close proximity normally used in the dance, Bachata is much easier to follow than Salsa - good for both the lead and the follow!

The final kind of dance done here is not one done in dance clubs, but is the traditional dance of Peru: Huayno. Typically done as a festival is coming to an end when most people have already danced plenty of Salsa and Bachata and drunk plenty of Cusqueña (just guess what that is...). Huayno is fast and upbeat, great for people who aren't sober anymore, and almost as fun for those who are, tho I'm fairly certain without alcohol no one has the stamina to dance Huayno for more than a few songs...

So there you have it. An incomplete and unprofessional overview of Peruvian dances.

Peru, Day 25: Dancing Culture

As you all know, dancing has been a big part of my experience here. For good reason.

During lunch today my host Mom and I discussed the various cultural functions, meanings, and etiquette of dancing in Peru and many other Latin American cultures.

At home we tend to see dancing as something talented people do. "White people can't dance" is an idea that has permeated our mindset and crippled many, many light-colored people throughout the last century. The fact is, anyone CAN dance. Just like anyone can walk. Yes, it takes training, and it take time, and it takes practice, but dancing is no longer just for the talented. Dancing here is what you do. If you don't dance, it's like you don't walk. Everyone does it. Yes, some do it more readily than others, some do it more professionally than others, some more seriously, some more vivaciously, some more frequently, and so on. But here it has nothing to do with talent.

Of course, there are professional dancers here. And perhaps they have more "talent" than others, (Ok, let's be real, the professional dancers I've danced with here have a lot more talent, on our scale, than a lot of others...) but people don't view a certain level of talent as either a prerequisite for dancing or an inhibition from dancing. It's quite beautiful!

Dancing is something that's done in clubs, yes, but also in schools, at parties, at home, in the streets, and really anywhere else dancing could be done. It's done with alcohol and without, and I must say it's normally done much better without.

Here a person who might not be considered terribly attractive is given a free pass if they can dance well. And many people who might be considered attractive are passed up readily if they can't (or won't) dance.

This leads to the practice in the clubs of what I'm going to call "circling." On any given night, during the first hour of dancing at a club, you will find several, and sometime quite a few, guys just sitting on the edges watching. Now, at first this made me uncomfortable. I assumed they had just come to watch and that they didn't dance because they couldn't. Wrong. They were watching, waiting, choosing. Many of them rarely dance, some of them are phenomenal dancers and just want to see who will be worth their time. May sound a bit harsh, but it's understandable. Circle the room, pick out the good dancers, wait until the social dancing starts, ask them to dance, see how well you can dance together, if all goes well, ask again. This is how it works.

Now, from the female perspective, we don't get quite as much of a chance to watch. As a foreigner, I can get away with asking a guy to dance, but here, that's really taboo. So I have to wait to either accept or reject. Both are socially normal. If I see a guy I want to dance with, I may need to refuse a few in hopes that he asks. If I accept a dance from someone else before he has the chance, I may just be stuck with the first guy for the rest of the night. I tend to have less problems than others because, well....Let's be blunt here - I am both a foreigner, fairly attractive, and a relatively good dancer. If I accept an offer and find I don't enjoy it, I can walk away. I get a free pass for breaking many social rules because of the 3 affore-mentioned facts. Perks.

I hope now you have a sightly clearer picture of what dancing means here, and how at least one person experiences it. I'd recommend giving it a try if you're ever in the area. (And even if you're not.)

Peru, Day 24: Speaking...English?!

So this week I have a couple new friends. They don't speak any Spanish.

Kudos to them for coming here anyway to learn! But it is SO HARD to remember to talk in English! I'm not saying that I always talk in Spanish, no. I have a few friends with whom I often speak Spanish. But to everyone else, in every other situation, Spanish is now natural. I greet people in Spanish, thank people in Spanish, introduce myself in Spanish, and in other way try to be friendly without even realizing that I'm speaking Spanish. It's great!

But when it come to my new friends, I get a lot of blank looks and clueless nods.

So yea, it's great that I speak Spanish so readily now, but now I have to start being conscious about which language I am speaking. I wonder if this is something that all bilinguals face? Will I always have to think about this for the rest of my life or will choosing become as natural as Spanish is becoming?

Of course I hope the latter. But I won't know until a ways down the road. I'm sure when I figure more out I'll have something to say about it on my blog tho. I just can't seem to keep all these questions, discoveries, experiences, and thoughts to myself...

Peru, Day 23: My First World Cup

The World Cup Final started at 2pm here in Cusco. We planned to get to the Pub around 12:30 in hopes that we'd get seats. We didn't. Standing room only over an hour before it started, and during the next hour it only got more and more packed.

(You can actually see a bit better just how packed it was if you look in the mirror...)

Right away it was obvious that the German's in attendance were determined to make their voices known. Those of us who were cheering for Argentina, or simply had no opinion whatsoever looked around at each other with a sort of hopeless bewilderment. "What have we gotten ourselves into?" It got louder and fuller and louder and fuller, and finally it started.

People ate, drank, cheered, hugged, cried, sighed, ate some more, drank some more, cheered some more, jeered, a couple people fainted, people drank some more, everyone cheered. It was an emotional experience. Especially for those who'd been drinking.

In the end the quiet ones were the one cheering for Argentina. What could we say? Not only had Germany won fair and square, most of us had German friends, and regardless - who says anything against the winning team when the pub is full of drunk, ecstatic, winners?

As we all trickled slowly out into the street it was a bit shocking how quiet everything was. In fact, the only people who cared about the World Cup were either inside celebrating or outside mourning. Mostly the second with Peruvians. The only sounds heard the rest of the evening were excited, and for the most part drunk, Germans... Walking the streets. Crashing the clubs. Renting tourist buses and riding all around Cusco. It was quite the spectacle. My friend Nina got congratulated for hours, by people who cared, people who didn't care, and people who just wanted to talk to the pretty German girl.

All in all it was quite a first World Cup experience. Here's to the next one? Who knows where I'll be for that one!

Peru, Day 22: A Different Night Out

We'd heard that every club in town offered free salsa lessons every night from 9-11. So we checked out the first club that was recommended to us and liked it quite a bit. After a few weeks we decided that we'd try some of the other ones - meet new people, learn new steps, maybe even improve our dancing.

Fail.

Apparently we hit the best club in town on our first try.

Now, I am not a connoisseur of dance clubs and certainly not Salsa clubs, but right from the beginning the club we tried tonight was different. Compare:

Mythology: doors open at 9; lesson starts at 9:01; lessons continue throughout the night including several more basic run-throughs, more complex steps, and even some Bachata - a completely different (and actually easier) type of dance; these lessons are interspersed with social dancing in which the teachers, the regulars, and the newbies all dance with, well, everyone else.

Inka Team: doors opened some time after 9, we got there around 9:30 and there were a few guys dancing something and then several obviously more experienced dancers formed a circle and did some Salsa; "lesson" started at almost 10 and consisted of 4 very basic steps; social dancing followed this in which it was painfully obvious who went there every night and who was just curious because those in the second group just got to sit and watch while all the regulars danced with their friends.

Now, I know it may be intimidating to ask a stranger to dance - but that's what you do at dance clubs! And yes, I spent a good amount of time at the other club dancing with one of the instructors - a professional dancer and teacher - but I still wanna dance with other people! And I get that it's fun to dance with people you know - but if you asked new people to dance there'd be even more people you knew to dance with!

The atmosphere at Mythology is one of fun, acceptance, learning, and well, more fun. The atmosphere at Inka Team was...lame. I'm not sure where all the other differences come. I know the instructors at Mythology have much more personality and teach a much higher level of Salsa. I also know that there are few regulars besides the instructors there which fosters an atmosphere of open friendliness sadly lacking in most of the dance clubs I've been to (including the Swing clubs in the US). And so we won't be going back to Inka Team. Obviously.

There are a few more clubs in town we'll try, but it looks like we really hit the jackpot on our first try!

(What do you think, could I be on my way to being a professional dance club reviewer?)

Peru, Day 21: Missing Pieces (Unedited)

Many reflections today. Reflections on the past week, reflections on the coming week, reflections on some things I (thought I'd) left at home, reflections on the future.

This week has been an exciting on in many ways and in many ways I've accomplished less then in any other week so far this year. Why is there this inverse relationship between getting things DONE and getting things FIGURED OUT?

By saying that it would seem that I've taken grand steps toward understanding everything this last week. Unfortunately, no. But sometimes just living, doing new things, doing stupid things, doing fun things, doing questionable things, doing anything, is the best way to understand the world around me. Many life lessons learned this week, but more accurately, many life lessons half-learned this week. I can only hope that the coming weeks and months continue my education, because such lessons can only be learned with time.
And as always, I feel I've come out with at least as many questions as answers.

Being uncertain of my own thoughts, desires, and opinions is a position I know well. I can't say I'm quite comfortable here, but at least I know I will live to see another day. And another day will reveal a bit more to me of who I am, what the world is, and how I should live my part within it.

Sometimes living is the only way to learn this. And the only way to understand. So many times I get anxious to know more than my share, to understand more than my experience has taught me. At such times, I have to remind myself to be content with what I have been able to experience and comprehend so far. It is frustrating when I look at the future and attempt to fill in the missing puzzle pieces only to realize that I have to take more steps to discover them. But on the other hand, I enjoy searching for the missing pieces. Sometimes they are difficult to find and take many, many days, maybe even months and years. But the excitement when I discover a bit of truth, a bit of understanding, that I've been missing!

So maybe I haven't found many missing pieces this week. Maybe I've only found that they are missing. Then let the search begin. Again.

Peru, Day 13: Peruvian 4th of July

For someone who's spent the last several 4th's of July in the back of one restaurant or another, spending this year's in Peru could in no way be anticlimactic.

I slept in, watched a football match between France and Germany, ate guacamole, talked about love in Spanish class for 2 hours, sang songs about "My grand night" (in my other Spanish class), and concluded the day with around 8 hours in a kitchen.

With a Frenchman and his divergent assistants attempting to cook pizza and pasta in a Peruvian kitchen, what could possibly have gone wrong?!

-- Sophie tripping over and breaking the water pipe in the yard resulting in a complete lack of water in all our bedrooms and a repeatedly flooded kitchen floor.
-- Boiling hot sauce going everywhere due to a careless Nicolas and, well, the second time was the same cause. Since when can you set jars of sauce in boiling water for an hour and NOT expect them to explode? His assurance that "Es bien" were rightly disregarded and Ursula finally just turned the stove off. What they are going to do with 2 gallons of sauce is beyond me.
-- Salty pizza crust, anyone? In reality, it wasn't too salty, in reality it was the best pizza crust I've ever made without a recipe. In further reality, it's the only pizza crust I've ever made without a recipe... It's actually the only pizza crust I've ever made at all. And it was amazing!
-- Now that I've made pasty by hand once, I feel confident saying that it's not worth it. Machines are wonderful.
-- 9 people in a kitchen smaller then most US bedrooms.
-- A lot of Pisco Sour (the native drink). I'm not saying that was a bad thing, it's just, well, I was the only one in the crowd who could really cook sanely after that much Pisco. On a side note, I'm pretty sure it's illegal for professors to drink with their students in the US. Not here! And I'm not really sure if they even have a "legal drinking age" or not. This group included Raúl and Ursula and their daughter Gimena; they live in the compound and take care of each group that goes to stay in the Sacred Valley campus. Of course Nicolas and Hugo, Nina, Sophie, and I. And one of our teachers, Dorian. Every kind of personality, talents, shapes, sizes, nationalities, and languages represented...
-- "Do you have hot water for your shower." "Uh, no. We don't have water at all..."
-- "Beth, you have a beautiful voice, right?? SING!" Uhh. Suuuuure.
-- I don't speak Spanish after 10pm and 4 drinks. Or at least I shouldn't try.
-- French drinking songs. Believe me, there are many, many ways to go wrong on this topic. Some things I just wish I could block out of my memory, tipsy or not.
-- After hours of whispered confidences, the macarena, spinning, star gazing, and "Por queso!" Nine, Sophie, and I were worn out. Gimena was not.
-- 11pm: anyone hungry? The (first) pizza's ready...
-- Laughing unbelievably hard because everything about that night was almost as random and bizarre as a dream.

So that was my 4th of July. At some point we toasted the US/me, which was quite enough for all of us. But I haven't laughed that hard for that long in years. It wasn't just the alcohol either. It was the sheer absurdity of so much of the situation. It was the small mistakes of cross-lingual, cross-cultural cooking. It was a group of people, as varying as you could imagine, thrown into a situation, attempting to make it the best it could be just for the sake of the moment and the memories. And as strange, error-fraught, and comical as the night was, I couldn't have asked for a more memorable and rich evening in my current home with my current family.

Peru, Day 12: Ollantaytambo

More than 2 miles above sea level there is a small town comprised almost entirely of tourist attractions, those who visit them, and those who cater to the visitors. Most of these visitors appear to be something like hippie wanna-bees. South America seems to attract those, and especially this little town of Ollantaytambo. Maybe it's because it's the end of a road. Maybe it's because its beautiful. Maybe it's because you can almost feel the Incan spirit in the air. Whatever the reason, Ollantaytambo seems to be both the end of the world and the meeting place of many worlds.

The main attraction is a set of ruined terraces climbing up a mountain side. It costs 70 soles to get into (approximately $25) and maybe 5 minutes to explore.

On an adjacent mountain there are other ruins, a steep and craggy path, and plenty of wonderful vistas. Take a look!

I'm not sure what this building used to be, but whoever inhabited it had a pretty amazing view. I wonder what Ollantaytambo looked like 500 years ago...

Just the edge of a cliff. :)

Here you can see the Terraces for free.

Then we climbed up higher and found a cave.

Then we climbed even higher and found the top of a mountain, well...almost.

Wishing towers.
Here's to hoping the adventure never ends!

Beautiful end to a beautiful day.

Peru, Day 11: Playing Pool

I am now all-too-well acquainted with older-model pool tables.

The school just happened to have a pool table and about 5 queues and tonight, after sitting and discussing our lack of playing cards, someone mentioned the pool table. So 6 of us went to play - teams of 3. Now, this was a slightly motley crew, to say the least. 3 Spanish professors: Dessirre, Dorian, and Erika; if I had to guess I'd put them in their 30s. Hugo, old enough to be my grandfather? Nicolas, 34. And of course, myself. After going over the "rules" - the French rules that is, we commenced a 3-hour game.

Now, I'm not the best at pool at home. By that I mean I am by far the worst in any game no matter who I am playing. Not so here! I got the first two balls in, somehow, and then I think it was an hour before anyone got any more. When I say I know how old pool tables work, I mean that I know that they DON'T work. The pockets are the same size but their openings are much smaller. It was possible to hit a ball from one end to a point exactly opposite it on the other end without hitting the ball in between - I will never complain about an "uneven" pool table again. And finally, the queues were missing their tips. I think I scratched more in 5 minutes of that game than the rest of my pool-playing career put together (which isn't really saying anything, but you get the idea...).

We played for a while until the other ladies went to bed, and then we played for a while longer. And something amazing happened. We'd all been speaking in Spanish all week because that was the one language that we could all understand at least passably well. But at some point, it was like we stopped speaking any language. The phrase, "your turn," the grunts of frustration, groans of disappointment, yawns of exhaustion, smiles of accomplishment, those have no language. It was just friendly enjoyment and competition in which words are superfluous, a universal language.

Peru, Day 10: Las Salineras

Nothing more beautiful than the sun glinting of the the brilliant salt flats with majestic snow-covered Andean peaks in the background. Unless maybe you add some low-hanging dark grey clouds in the north for some contrast.

That little white line zig-zagging up
the mountain, that's the trail...

...and looking back after 10 minutes
of walking.

First glimpse of the flats.

And now getting closer. (Still not
that impressive...)

I admit, by now I was beginning to
the the view was breath-taking.
(That, and I was out-of-breath
from walking up a mountain...)

Alright, totally worth the climb!

Interestingly, the running water was hot - I felt it on purpose, and the standing water was cold - I might have slipped almost fallen into a salt flat...

Salt formations...salt piles...salt foot prints...salt bags...salt, salt, salt everywhere. I think I must've been salty for days afterwards. But so worth it. I've never seen anything quite so strikingly and distinctly beautiful. Certainly nothing else quite like it in the world. And yes, you can walk on the little paths in between the flats. Few people actually do it, or maybe I just went on a day when no one was feeling adventurous. There's really nothing frightening about it, I'm not sure why every one seems so glued to the path.

I know, it almost looks like the beach. Just as salty, but much more tranquil.