BootsnAll Travel Network



Pachamama, Part 2 — Los Amarillos

December 8th, 2005

Aug 21, 2005

Today was another amazing, unforgettable experience. Truly again, there are no words to describe my experience today. I am not religious, but today, I feel has been the most spiritual day in my entire life — where I felt one with myself and one with nature. An immensly emotional experience.

Nathalie and I had an early start. Well, no one is ever on time in Argentina, so we left the hostel around 7:25am. We were to meet at Toto’s house at 7:30am. The walk is about 10-15 minutes. When we got to the ruta outside of Toto’s house, we encountered Toto and Patricia — a lady from Buenos Aires who happened upon the charla yesterday. Patricia went to make a call, and the restu of us went to the side of Toto’s house, where Kachi, Alberto, and a few others were by an outdoor stove — logs on fire surrounded by a waist high brick wall. There was a large pot of potatoes boiling and a small pot for mate. This early in the morning, it was cold, so I stood by the fire. Nathalie poured chicha de maize morada into empty gaseosa (soda) bottles.

Later, we moved inside. In an assembly line fashion, we fixed individual lunch bags of 2 choclo (corn) ears, 10 small potatoes, and a chunk of cheese. Everyone was given a bag.

Nathalie and I just went with the flow. We had no idea what to expect, where we were going, or what we were going to do today…

Once everything was packed and ready, we went to pile into the combi (minivan). It was a standard size minivan. I had no earthly idea how we would all fit in there, but we managed — 18 people including the driver! We also brought the rainbow colored, patchworked bandera (flag) as well. To make space, I sat on Nathalie’s lap. It was quite a comical scene and we were all laughing.

The road to Los Amarillos is amazing. We went along the main route, about 20 km north of Tilcara. We passed by many a multi-colored mountain range so significant of the Quebrada region. The combi dropped us off in the midde of the route, in the middle of nowhere, near a bridge. We descended down the steep, loose gravelly embankment to the west side of the road. It seemed that no one really knew how to get down. there is no clear cut pathway, just the quebradas — the dry areas where the streams flow when it rains. The initial descent into the quebrada was steep and tricky. We made it to the main dry river bed which was full of rocks of varying sizes and colors — green, red, gray, yellow, orange, black, and multicolored.

We hiked along this dry riverbed for a good while, then walked under an abandoned bridge in disrepair. After tht, we took a respite for a moment and gathered in a circle. Everyone was distributed a handfull of coca leaves — you must receive the coca leaves with both hands cupped, and don’t dare drop any on the ground — the oja de coca is sacred to the people here and worth much (not monetarily, but spiritually). We stuffed gobs of leaves in our mouths, chewing them then putting them on one side of our mouths, between the teeth and the inside of the cheek. We then each picked up a stone and piled them on top of each other to form a little hill. This signified our journey.

Alberto carried the flag of the native people — a rainbow colored, patchworked flag seen all around the Andino areas. This flag is very symbolic and means much to the people. The different colors represent different things, all pointing back to la naturaleza (nature). He carried the flag the entire time, running up the mountainside with it, planting it in the ground, and running down the mountain side with it. As he ran up and down the mountains with his brown poncho on and straw hat, he reminded me of a messenger.

We carried on hiking for about 2 hours more, our group of 17. Native, non-native, it did not matter. We are all one, we are all humans.

The landscape was amazing. Yesterday and today, I took no pictures. Yesterday, out of respect for the people and their sacred tradition. Today, because this was *my* spiritual journey. I wish only to have the memories in my mind and in my heart. Taking pictures to show others would interrupt that which is so uniquely my own.

Back to the landscape…with every turn around a mountain, the landscape changed. In the beginning, we were surrounded by the mountains you could see from the ruta. The colored, dry, grandiose mountains. As we continued on, we wove through red sandy moutnains with large erosion resisitant rocks casted in place. The trail was all through the dry river and stream beds — very rocky.

We came to an area where we saw a sierra — a mesa-like formation that was ochre or yellowish at the top, then changed to an earthy red and green color. This sierra is called Sierra Pollero (skirt hill) or Pollerito (little skirt) because the shape resembles a skirt.

Juan, Patricia, and I lagged behind everyone else. We’re at over 8000 ft and I carried about 3 liters of liquids amongst other things. This was my first high altitude hike in Tilcara, too…so I went slowly. The three of us caught up with the group at an area of earthy red mountainous terrain. There was a cavernous ditch nearby. We rested in the sun and shared chicha de choclo morado with the view of the Sierra Pollero nearby. A few of the spiritual leaders went in search of the ceremonial site.

Later, we split up and hiked in groups of various sizes, ascending and descending the little trodden earth of the Amarillos. On our hike, we passed by a few areas with crosses and bones. No one knew the significance — burial sites, memorial sites, or ritual sites — I don’t know. But it was important to someone.

Alberto planted the rainbow pathworked flag into the rocks on top of a hill. this place was our ceremonial site. We hiked on, meeting the rest of the group on top of the hill. The view — unforgettable. The Sierra Pollero on one side rising steeply out of the earth, mountains surrounding all over, a low plains area nearby that looked like a dry lakebed — it was low, a yellowish green color on the bottom, with red cliffs rizing above the low land, then levelling off to the base of a mountain range. Cacti, or cardona, surrounded us as well. We were truly one with nature. No other soul in site besides our group.

The site we were at — Los Amarillos — is a site of native ruins. They are not what you would normally think of ‘ruins’. They are ruins because this is the ceremonial place where people, for generations, perform a ceremony to remember their ancestors and loved ones passed and pay tribute to Pachamama. Around this site are many broken ceremic pieces of ceremonial pots and jars that previous people had carried with them. There is a wall of stone layered on top of each other, one by one. There are little mountains of stones from previous ceremonies as well.

We started out by finding a big stone and placed them in a pile on top of each other. This represented us and our ancestors. If you had immediate family you wanted to think of, you carried more stones and placed them in the pile. The flag was moved to this pile of rocks. The wind swept down the Sierra Pollero and blew by us strongly, making the bandera flap repeatedly.

We stood in a circle. The leaders told us about this sacred place. They stressed the importance of Pachamama, of the earth, the sun, the water, the air. The three of the leaders — Marie, Kachi, and another gathered in front of the pile of rocks and knelt down on a colorful manta. Each one spoke to Pachamama at times, raising their hand to the sun or lowering their hands to the earth. The language they used to speak to Pachamama: Quechua. Even though I could not understand, it was such a moving event. To see their dedication, to see the preservation of a culture shunned by society, today, to see it with my own eyes, and to be embraced by it.

A smoldering pot with seymouria was used in the next ceremony. Kachi took the pot, moved it in front of then in back of everyone, wafting the smoke around their body. He started with the most important people first — the leaders and the elders, the family members, and ended with the guests. We were then handed cigarillos and lit them for Pachamama. We were also given a handful of coca leaves for Pachamama as well. We went to an earthen hole in pairs or singles, tossed rubbing alcohol into the hole, placed our coca leaves in the ground, and put our cigarettes in the earthen pile of loose dirt next to the ceremonial hole. Once everyone had paid their respects to Pachamama, the leaders covered the hole with no trace of the ceremony.

We gathered around in a circle again to share our thoughts. I could not express what I felt in English, nevertheless in Spanish. But I think I conveyed them message because everyone seemed to understand. I told them that this experience (yesterday and today) was a life changing experience, that it has opened my eyes, it makes me look at people differently, it makes me look at nature differently, and that they are all in my heart. I even started to slightyly tear up as I told them that. It was such an emotional time that I cannot even begin to describe the way I really felt.

Then it was lunchtime! We sat atop the area of the ceremonial site, got out our bolsitas that we had prepared in the morning, and feasted. We passed around gaseosas (soda), chicha, and pan (bread) to share. The sun was high, and it was quite hot. I found a shady spot next to a boulder and sat down there.

After lunch, we were free to hike around and whatnot. We needed to meet the combi at the road at 6pm. Instead, I sat with Marie, one of the elders, and spoke with her. I had so much curiousity in my mind about life as a native, ceremonies, history, their view on the world, etc etc etc. I asked her about the ceremonies performed today — a ceremony of fire and a ceremony for an offering to Pachamama. The ceremony of fire was to honor your ancestors. I asked her about the history of the Quechuas and about the Quechua language. She taught me a few Quechua words, which I’ve already forgotten! She was extremely knowledgable and embraced her culture and history. Sadly, things like this get lost from generation to generation. I wish my Spanish was better because I had a million things I could have talked to her about.

We rested for a while and soaked in the sun. A few of the guys hiked further along to visit someone in their community. The rest of us hiked back to the road. The hike out was no easier than the hike in. Long, tough, a test to my spirit.

This entire journey today was emotional, freeing, and overwhelmingly powerful for me.

Once we arrived at the ruta, we had to wait on the side of the road for the combi. We sat down, shared stories, food, and drinks. Daniel, an artisan in wood, gave ma keychain that he had made. It has llamas cut out of it. Daniel and I talked quite abit about living the artisan lifestyle. He’s Catholic, but was invited by Alberto. It was his first Pachamama ceremony as well, and he felt that it had changed him, too.

Once again, we piled inot the combi — this time iwth 19 people (there was a little girl in the front)! I sat in the back seat. A boy had carried a full sized cardona (inside of the cactus) all the way. They opened the back door of the van and slid the cardona in underneath the seats. I rode all the way back with the big cardona between my legs :p

We went back to Toto’s house, shared gaseosa and said our goodbyes. A lot of the people who were not Tilcarena were leaving for their respective homes today — whether it be Jujuy or near Bolivia. Kachi invited me to stay with his family in Jujuy, if I were to make it there. And everyone invited us back to celebrate Pachamama next year.

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Post Pachamama charla

December 4th, 2005

After the feasting, Nathalie and I were invited to a charla (chat) at the library. They chat — the first one they organized, would be to reflect on the ceremony of Pachamama, the future of their community, and thoughts about Pachamama. It is an effort to create a united, solid native community. Andean native in general — Quechua, Aymara, etc — does not matter. The color of your skin — does not matter. We are all linked by humanity. Everyone spoke, even me with my awful Spanish. I could not really express what I wanted to say, but said what I could. And we drank chicha de huma while we charla’d.

The charla lasted about 4 hours into the evening. Here, I learned so much, so much first hand that no museum that I visited last year could even compare to. Pachamama is sacred. It is a celebration of Mother Earth, it is a celebration of life. Pachamama celebrations start Aug 1 and last till the end of the month — in coordination with the solar calendar and solar world.

The thoughts of the native people were amazing. Some had not participated in the Pachamama offering ceremony until now — mostly the younger people. Others felt unconnected to their heritage and wanted to learn Quechua to preserve the ancient language. The native people here, as is the case with most if not all of the world, are forgotten by the government. They get nothing. Humahuaca and the surrounding area became World Heritage not too long ago. Who gets all the money — the government. It goes to run the government in Jujuy, fix roads in Jujuy and such. Nothing goes to the local people. It is very sad — as one of the guys said, “It’s my problem.” I cannot even begin to understand as I am not living it, but do sympathize and wonder why this is the case around the world.

One man said that when he was growing up, they did not teach about Pachamama in schools. It was forbidden. To even mention Pachamama was really bad. However now, they do teach about the history of Pachamama in schools. But most of the history and ideology is passed from generation to generation by word of mouth.

Everyone thanked us again for coming and participating. They were extremely welcoming. Truely amazing people. This experience is extremely rare — I feel that I had a fortunate stroke of luck today. It was an experience that I will never forget, and will carry with me always. This truely is one of those “life changing” moments. This is why I travel…

Malka handed out pamphlets with information about the movement for the rights of the native Andino people. Samuel Llampa, an author, had his books for sale. I bought Samuel’s book, “Sentimientos y Expressiones de la Puna”. This book contains stories and poems with reflections of the native people, their hardships in life, their culture, and their land. I felt special as Samuel autographed the book, “Con carino y afecto. Para una visitante de E.E.U.U. Donde(?) del Autor. S.S. d. Jujuy 20-8-05 Samuel Llampa” with his phone number written as well.

At the end of the charla, the community invited Nathalie and I to a ceremony tomorrow. We will meet at Toto’s house at 7:30am. From there, we will take a micro to a set of ruins — Los Amarillos, where there will be another ceremony. Nathalie and I, of course, said yes to this opportunity. When and where will I ever get a chance like this again?

I love Tilcara already, and I haven’t even begun to see the natural beauty of the place.

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Pachamama, Part 1

November 27th, 2005

Aug 20, 2005 – Sat

Today, I have had the most amazing experience in all of my travels. Nothing can top this day. And no words can describe the experience.

My roommate, Nathalie, and I were going to go with a guide from the tourist office to walk to las Cuevas (the caves). It’s about a 7 km round trip hike and is supposed to be interesting. We went to the tourist office at 9:30am to encounter a guide named Carlitos (Nathalie had ‘booked’ the tour with him yesterday), but no one was there. We waited, then spoke with the people at the tourist hotel next door. They called the tourism office and told us to wait in the hotel’s lobby. Later, someone opened the tourist office. There was no guide, so they called one for us, but we would have to wait (apparently, this is pretty common), so we went to Internet for a bit.

Our guide, Tupaq, met us at the internet place. We walked to the edge of town and across a bridge. From the bridge, we could see a straw house being constructed. This is in preparation for the Pachamama celebrations on Monday the 22nd. It’s supposed to be a grand fiesta. In all of August, Pachamama is celebrated amongst the native/indigenous people here. It is to honor Pachamama, or Mother Earth (land). It is a tradition that I had learned about in my travels to Peru and Boliva — in museums. Tupaq talked about Pachamama, and we asked many questions. Then he suggested, rather than going to the caves, he would ask the people in the pueblo who were preparing for a Pachamama ceremonial offering, if we could watch. Nathalie and I stood outside the village, then Tupaq told us to follow him.

We walked to an area near a tree where two men were digging a hole. We were greeted by a group of people, exchanged besos (kisses) on the cheek and introduced ourselves to each other. It was a treat to be invited to watch…but they invited us to participate in the ceremony with them. In total, it was about a group of 25 native people — mostly Quechua and 2 Aymara.

Once the hole was dug, they moved the mount of dirt to the east side of the hole. One of the ladies burned a plant called seymouria(sp?) in a place of hot coals. The smell was very fragrant and strong. She then put the plate of coals and seymouria in the hole. It burned for a while — a smoking hole. The people gathered the things they needed for the offering to Pachamama and placed them by the offering site (the hole).

One of the lady’s covered the hole with two blankets, one, a colorful manta (cloth) common in the indigenous Andes. All of this initial offering work is done by the women — only women because it is for Pachamama. Then another lady spread flowers around the offering site.

We waited for a while, spoke to the people there. They told us about the significance of Pachamama, the history, and also random chitchat.

The abuela of the family hosting the ceremony (Toto’s family) came out. One lady uncovered the hole and folded the colrful manta in front of the hole. This manta served as the place where people kneel, on the west side. She also took the plate of coals out and placed it on the east side of the offering site. The abuela made the initial offerings to Pachamama. One man passed out cigarillos (cigarettes) to everyone — not for smoking, but for Pachamama to smoke.

Toto’s family went one by one and paid their respects and made offerings to Pachamama. Whoever was invited by someone else went in paris — with the person that invited them. This lasted for a while, then came my turn. An older man named Geronimo, semmingly a village elder, accompanied me because a lady he invited had not shown up. I really had no idea what to do.

For each offering, they put more of the seymouria on the plate of coals. And when it’s right in your face, your eyes burn a bit and make you want to cry. Gernonimo an dI knelt down on the manta, me on his left side. We lit our cigarillos, took a puff to start the ashes, and placed our cigarillos in the mound of dirt on the east side, with the ashy side facing up — it is like the tierra is smoking the cigarillo. The cigarillos of some of the previous offerings were completely ashen.

Next, Geronimo scooped up dirt cupped with both of his hands together. I did not understand what to do, so I cupped my hands like he did, and he told me in Spanish what to do but I still did not understand. One of the lady’s placed my cupped hands under his (duh). When people go in paris, they make the offerings together as if they were one soul. With my hands under Geronimo’s, we sprinkled the dirt in the offering hole.

After that, we offered Pachamama drinks of a gaseosa (soda), chicha de maize, white wine, red wine, rubbing alcohol, cerveza, and water. All of the drinks, except the water, were in small clay offering cups (small, like shot glasses), that one of the lady’s had poured for us. Geronimo held the cups and I put my hands under his. The water, which is very important in the ideology of Pachamama, was from a bigger glass. Again, he held the glass, I held the bottom, and he cupped one hand over mine, and my other over his. We offered the water to Pachamama — not pouring it in, but throwing it to cover the areas of the offering site.

Geronimo spoke about Pachamama, the importance of the believe in the earth, the sky, the air, the water. Pachamama means life. He had quite a speech — both of us still kneeling and my feet getting numb from the lack of circulation. At that point, I could tell that I was participating in the ceremony, offering to Pachamama, with an important pillar of the society in the pueblo.

Teh food offerings were next. Geronimo held a bowl of maize cobs (yellow and purple maize from the region), I took one and put it in the hole. Then I held the bowl and he put one in the earth. We exchanged offerings in this manner with Andean potatoes, some sort of legume, llama meat, and lastly quinoa — a grain that is very important amongst the Andean native population. Geronimo’s hands were full of quinoa, we cupped our hands together and then sprinkled the sacred grain into the offering site for Pachamama. Gernonimo then held a bag of coca leaves — another sacred plant. I grabbed some in my cupped hands. He placed his hands beneath mine and we offered the coca leaves.

To end our offering, Geronimo asked me to scoop dirt in my cupped hands. He put his hands beneath mine. I kissed the dirt, then he kissed the dirt, then we offered it to Pachamama.

The ceremony went on until everyone and everyone that had been invited had their turn at offering. The abuela went again, giving generous portions of drink offerings. We all amde offerings to Pachamama a second time, with our same partners.

When everyone was done with the second round of offerings, the abuela made another offering, generous protions, then one lady helped her cover the hole with the dirt mount that had been laying on the east side of the offering site. One person covered the mound with large rocks piling them up, and put the bottles of gaseosa, chicha, water, cerveza, and wines upside down into the rocks, as if Pachamama were drinking the drinks. Flowers were sprinkled on top of the rocks. Three brightly colored strands of hand spun lana (wool) were wrapped around the outer edge, weaving around the bottles. Toto and his family then thanked everyone individually for coming and participating.

It was an absolutely amazing experience. This was not something touristy. The people asked nothing of us, but rather thanked us for coming and participating. The natives are not such a closed society that I had originally thought, but rather do invite outsiders — non indigenous Argentinians, and in our special case, foreigners. They wish to share their traditions and culture, to keep it going as it has been for ages. They want to educate people who wish to learn about their beliefs and customs.

After the Pachamama ceremony, Toto offered everyone lunch. It seemed that if you refused, the family would be offended. Most of the lunch was the same food offered to Pachamama — signifying life. I tried the yellow Andean maize — which is extremely thick and rich, bread with really hot salsa, llama meat, Andean potatoes — which are good and a little sweet, that unknown legume, and chicha de maize. We also feasted on bowls of homemade quinoa soup that was soooo delicous! Many of the foods that the natives eat are cultivated locally.

We feasted and talked to each other for a while about various topics. Later, they invited us to a charla (chat) at the library…

***Note*** I used the term “natives” because I was informed by a Quechua guy named Ariel, a guide at the Pukara ruins, that the term “indigenous” is offensive. I think it’s a toss up as to who you speak to, because the people at the ceremony used the term “indigenous” as if it were not an offensive term to use; however, Ariel thought it was an offensive term and preferred to use the term “native”.

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A lot of stories left…

November 27th, 2005

Well, I said I would write about my experiences in Tilcara a long time ago, but well, I’ve been lazy. I will do a few stories as I have time…

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Sierra la Vigilancia pics

September 11th, 2005

I loaded some pics from Sierra la Vigilancia…

Sierra la Vigilancia photo gallery

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Buenos Aires pics

September 8th, 2005

I’ve downloaded some pics I took in Buenos Aires to a gallery through BnA. Here’s the link:

Buenos Aires pics

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robbed once, robbed twice…

September 1st, 2005

So, my 3rd day in the country I was robbed of my camera. The 3rd to last day in the country, I was drugged and robbed of $400 US. Yup. Sucks to be me.

Well, yesterday I hopped on the bus from Tilcara to Jujuy. I hopped on a bus from Jujuy to BsAs at 11am, a 24 hour ride. Anyways, the bus sucked like hell and was expensive. We had a stop at a comedor. I was by myself at a table. A girl from the bus asks to join me because she doesn´t like eating alone. I don´t mind. We talk during lunch. Then we end up sitting on the bottom of the bus (the top was all wet), and another girl was there, too. We chatted for hours and hours. Her stop was Tucumán, to visit a sick aunt. All was cool…or so I thought.

She drugged me with what I presume was a chocolate candy laced with something so potent to render me awake but paralized. I could not think, move, speak…It was like a dream state as I watched her dig into my money belt in my pants and take all of the pesos and US dollars. I could not do anything. Luckily, she left my passport, travellers checks, and bank card..it could have turned out worse. I got some movement back, and I had to throw up…I cupped my hand over my mouth, my movements were so slow, my feet weight so much, I spewed in my hand before I finally got to the bathroom and made a huge mess. I threw up and threw up and threw up. Anyways, when I got back, still in a semi unconcious state of mine, she left at Tucumán with my $400 US that I was going to spend on a shopping spree in BsAs. The bitch was gone.

Feeling sympathy for me, the other girl (20+ yrs old) on the bus asked me what happened. Our next stop, she took me to the infirmary at the bus station, but I was in no coherent state of mind. I barely remember it as of now, and I don´t even know what language I was speaking. She took me to the bathroom as well. This girl was my angel. I was rendered incapacitated. Word got around on the bus, and everyone worried about me, asking if I needed money. Luckily, she didn´t get to my wallet, which had enough to get to the hostel and then some. The people on the bus were the nicest, and would have given me anything. The girl, my angel, even let me borrow a sweater because it was cold. I didn´t report it to the police because I had to get to BsAs asap. Plus, I was really in no state of mind to talk, especially in Spanish.

I puked and puked and puked throughout the night. I just kept 3 plastic bags at my side, and when I needed to puke, I just puked in it. My angel sat beside me the whole time and took care of me.

At midnight, we were woken up because we had to switch busses. I puked outside the bus a few times, and my angel sat with me all the way. I passed out pretty well throughout the ride, waking up to puke a few times more. When we got to BsAs, I started to take the sweater off, and the girl told me don´t worry about it. Sadly, I´ve got remnants of puke on my shoes, my pants, and my jacket. Lovely, I know.

I got to Retiro terminal in BsAs, still in an awful state of mind. I caught a cab to the hostel, and started crying. The cab driver asked me what was wrong and I told him the story. He cut me a break on the cab fare.

Well, it´s 4:34pm, about 24 since I was drugged. I still feel like shit, haven´t eaten much all day. But feeling better.

In retrospect, it could have been much, much worse. I do have my passport. I do have my ATM card. I do have my travellers checks. Yes, I´ve cried over the incident. It sucks. But hey, $400 can be replaced. I´m fine now.

I ended up treating myself today to a shopping day. Heck, I deserve it. I bought a big duffel bag, stuffed it full with goodies. And I´m having a leather jacket and pants made custom fit, which I´ll pick up at 7pm.

Well, one thing for sure…I´m ready to go home….

Lesson of the day: Never take candy from strangers

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al fin

August 30th, 2005

Attacked by 3 dogs (non ferocious, don´t worry) and got rid of an annoying Israeli guy who wouldn´t stop following me and Nathalie around…

well, it´s close to the end of my journey. I´m signing off this journal until I get home. Too many stories, not enough time while I´m here. I´ve become a Tilcareña. The locals know me here, too.

Tonight, there´ll be an asado in my honor (my going away party) thrown by a few locals and Nathalie as well. Will try to hit up El Nuevo Progreso to say my goodbyes to Cachamay, who is there every night, and Tupaq if he is there.

Yup, the end has come. I am completely content with this journey. I have had some of the most amazing experiences ever.

I´ll continue this blog post Sept 3..check back then. Chau.

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crazy days

August 27th, 2005

briefly, my ass hurts and I was accosted by 3 large voracious dogs that could have killed me…

hehe..well, having too much fun here! Went on a horeseback riding trip yesterday to a place called Juellas. We left around 3:30, got to las juellas (about 9km?), hiked up to a spot on top of the cerro, picniced, left as the sun was going down, then rode into the night under a star filled sky. We could see the silhouettes of the mountains, cacti, and rode towars the lights of Tilcara. It was so beautiful.

Today, Nathalie and I caught a remis to a place where there are supposed to be some thermal waters. We were going to hike back to town. When we got to the area, there was no pueblo. But we asked someone and they said it´s about a 6 hour ida y vuelta hike to the aguas. We didn´t have time to do it today, so we hiked back to town instead.

It was pretty wild and adventurous. We wanted to go on trails away from the ruta. We walked across tree bridges over the river, and towards an older lady. We talked to her, and she said that we can go down the trail through her fields (she grows lettuce, cabbage, tomatoes, and garlic), then encounter the trail that goes along the canal. But she warned us to take sticks, as there are some mean dogs down the way. She warned us about one dog, a white dog about 2 houses down that is mean.

Long story short, we carried our tree branches along the hike. Ascended up a hill, with no real path to go down back to the canal, traversed someone´s fields (no one was home), and as we were almost out of the fields and to the river, 3 big dogs barking and snarling their teeth at us came. I´ve never been so scared in my entire life!!! We pointed our sticks at them, I tried picking up another stick but it ended up to be a tree root (doh), I tripped over another tree root, Nathalie held her calm the entire time, then we got to the river and they stopped at the property line. My heart was beating so fast. It was crazy!

To cross the river, we had to take our shoes off and hike our pants up. It wasn´t too deep. We continued on along the river and onto the canal trail, encountered a few more dogs, then later encountered a fence which we could not go beyond (dogs). We went down the mountain and met with a 9 year old boy named Sergio, who was so sweet. We talked with him for a while, he offered us more than a handfull of a snack (corn like snack). And when we left, he reached into his pockets and gave us both lollipops. Just like that. As we walked away, we searched for something to give him in exchange, and found some caramelos to give to him.

After hours of walking, we finally made it to the hostel and rested for a while.

People like Sergio, I will remember. Last year, it was a piece of bread a lady shared with me in Ecuador, this year it´s a lollipop that was given to me by a boy with a huge grin on his face. I feel like I have learned a lot on this trip, and have a lot more to learn. Compassion, sharing, and being a good person. It´s as simple as that.

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Me encanta, Tilcara

August 25th, 2005

More brief stories…enjoying my time here so much, that I´m doing less Internetting…haven´t even written in my diary, either..ack, so far behind!

Let´s see…I´ve been here for about a week already, but it seems like I´ve packed in so much already.

The day after the caves tour, I had taken a day to rest. A windstorm came in and so much dust was in the air, it was pretty crazy. There was a dusty haze over the mountains which made them look really surreal.

Yesteraday, I went with Vanesa, Simone (an Italian guy I met at the hostel), and Patricia to Purmamarca and the Salinas Grande. We took a local bus to Purmamarca for 2 pesos, then hopped in a combi to the Salinas for 20 pesos each. Otherwise, the excursions from Tilcara were 100 pesos..sheesh!

The Salinas were nice. Not as grand or impressive as Salar de Uyuni…that just tops the cake. But it was nice to check them out. To get there, we had to go over a pass of 4200 meters. Luckily, I didn´t get altitude sickness..which was nice.

Purmamarca was beautiful. The mountains there are of different colors, layered on top of each other. They are amazing. We did a short hike on a camino through the mountains. Every turn around the corner held something beautiful and impressive. Reds, greens, orange, yellow, etc…stunningly beautiful.

Today, Nathalie and I walked about 6 or 7 km to the next town over, Maimara. Actually, we were going to rent bikes…but we went to the bike shop, and it was closed — the guy was out on vacation to Buenos Aires. Then we went to ask around for other bike shops…well, long story short, we walked all around Tilcara trying to find bikes or horses to rent…we ended up walking the way to Maimara.

It was a beautiful walk. For the most part, we walked along the river. There´s really no path, and we ended up in someone´s agricultural fields but then turned around as we figured there were dogs to protect the house. We crossed the river a few times on bridges made from fallen trees. And all the way (from the hostel, and walking all over Tilcara), we were accompanied by a dog that would not leave. There was really nothing we could do…he just kept on following us all the way…some 7km later!

Maimara is beautiful. This little village also has colored mountains. Mountains everywhere, they are so gorgeous. Hopefully my pictures will do them a little bit of justice. Maimara is such a small, small town. We got there and nothing was opened. We walked all over town, asking the locals (who gave us foreigners strange looks) about a place to eat. We finally found a place, but the choices were limited.

After lunch, we went to the cemetary which had a nice mirador, then took the ¨Vuelta de Mundo¨path, which took us to a cross and another gorgeous mirador. We hiked the paths down the mountain, to try to get to where there is some sort of temple (looks like the one on Pucara which is restored). Well, down the mountain, we ended up in someone´s backyard, had to climb down a large adobe mound, and out their gate. It was pretty crazy. Well, we figured that the mirador would be the same, so we didn´t hike up to the temple looking thing.

The dog followed us the entire way, it was crazy. We stopped by a canal, I got a plastic bag out to fetch some water for the dog, and Nathalie helped me out. Two boys were watching us, probably thinking we were crazy. We gave the dog some water because it hadn´t had much over the hike all day long. Well, it was time to head back to Tilcara, so we caught a Remis back to town…had to leave the dog. Poor thing. But well, he didn´t have to follow us all the way…sheesh! Maybe he´ll have a new life in Maimara, or find his way back to Tilcara…who knows.

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