It Takes Two to Tango

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.

Tags: Tilcara, Travel

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