The Road Less Traveled

Ramiro didn’t tell me I had to be at breakfast at a set time, so I wandered downstairs around 9:00. I met a healing arts man and two anthropologists. After breakfast I went back upstairs and sat on the balcony soaking up the sun (foolishly without sunblock) writing postcards. Suddenly, I heard marching band music. I knew there was a holiday coming up—Fiestas Patrias, the Peruvian equivalent of Fourth of July, a two-day celebration of the liberation of Peru from Spain by Simon Bolivar and San Martin. That wasn’t supposed to start until the 28th, though. It seems they were celebrating early. Perhaps since the 28th and 29th were on a Saturday and Sunday this year, they were taking Friday as a day off to celebrate. Edgar, one of the two servants at the guesthouse, had mentioned that there would be a parade at 11:00 am. But it was only 10:30.

After I finished my postcards, I walked out of the guesthouse and a block down the street towards the sound of the music. It was coming from a school with children in uniform standing outside.

Not seeing anything of note, I walked back up the “Street of Heroes” lined with statues of military heroes, then cut over to El Sol and walked towards Plaza de Las Armas. Parade spectators were already lining the sidewalks of El Sol. Military groups were lining up. Hawkers were selling red and white ribbons representing the colors of the Peruvian flag.

When I made it to the main square, I saw a sight I’ll never forget. There was a sea of people and music and military groups. There was a palpable energy in the air as the crowds started getting ready for the parade. I saw few military groups march into the sea of people.

For reasons I’m not sure of now, I turned away from the parade. Maybe I was tired or it seemed like the action had stopped. I ended up walking to a plazoleta (little plaza) where the culinary school of Cuzco was having a tasting. For 3 soles a dish, you could sample generous portions of gourmet food—lamb, seafood, drinks, and more. For some reason, I was drawn to the simple but delicious causa cusqueno. Causa looks like a layered sheet cake, but it’s savory. It’s made with a layer of mashed yellow potatoes topped with a layer of chicken and mayonnaise, then another layer of mashed yellow potatoes, and spices. It was served with a side of onions and a red pepper sauce. It was delicious. I wanted to try more, but I was still a bit full from breakfast and didn’t want to press my luck.

I wandered the streets of Cuzco, occasionally seeing more groups of soldiers marching down the street yelling their squad drill chants. I was surprised to see a section of Cusco with hotels and restaurants bearing signs in English and Hebrew. Was there a Jewish population in Cusco? Or merely an attempt to cater to Peruvian visitors from Israel? I would have to ask my relatives when I got back to the States.

I came back to the guesthouse in the afternoon and took a nap. Then I went out again to try to walk to San Blas. I got so turned around, though, I ended up at the train station. The man pushing a cart of keys (a locksmith, perhaps) who gave me directions and then kept trying to get a conversation going wasn’t much help.

I finally walked two blocks away from the train station (so I wouldn’t get a taxi at a train station price) and hailed a 3-soles taxi to San Blas. I chose to eat at Pachipapa, a tourist restaurant on the square. I went through a door to get in, but ended up in an open-air courtyard with dark-stained wooden tables, heaters, and a stone hearth woodburning oven. I couldn’t bring myself to eat guinea pig, and not just because of thoughts of the several guinea pigs my cousins had for pets. Instead, I opted for the whole grilled trout. It was delicious, and worth the 25 soles. I also got brave and had a glass of chardonnay with it.

For dessert, I ordered a dish that I thought would be made from the orange-cream colored yogurt concoction that is served at breakfast in Peru and which I had in ice-cream form in Rumichaca. However, I had confused the name. What I got was more like rice pudding, but the rice was the consistency of couscous. Only the slight cinnamon taste made it palatable for me.

I stayed a few extra minutes soaking up the atmosphere of the restaurant. Then I walked down the hill to the Plaza de las Armas and saw a concert by a group of students from a local high school. I presume it was part of Fiestas Patrias as well. I soaked up this last bit of Peruvian culture, and went back to my hotel room to sleep.

Kitty left before dawn—after all, some people have to work for a living. 😉

I went downstairs for a nice large breakfast which included half a cup of fine coffee and juice but no water (by my own foolish choice). I had thought Rani would be taking me on my tour of Cuzco but Ana Maria showed up instead.

We left a little after 9 am. We walked a block to Avenida del Sol and turned left. I saw a mural with the history of Cuzco from Pre-Columbian times to the Incas, then the Spanish Invasion and finally independence in the 1800s.

Next we went to the Cathedral of Santo Domingo, which was built on top of the Inca Templo del Sol. The site is also called Qorikancha. I saw stone towers similar to the towers of Machu Picchu with a red-brick church above it. The bell tower had elaborate wooden carvings. The large brown wooden doors had nails covered with metal knobs formed in the shapes of animals.

Ana Maria explained these and other sights along the way. She pointed out the religious paintings done in the Cuzco art style, and the cloisters with Inca temple stone walls on the sides. We saw temple walls and replicas with examples of gold and idols that would have been inside. She explained the Inca double entry and the 14-angled rock. The saddest Inca wall was the one that was destroyed by the Spanish to make room for their walkways. There were ancient musical instruments, and an Inca skull (probably a replica) to show how the Inca royalty had forced their children’s heads to grow high and narrow so that people would know they were royalty.

The Libertador and the First Wave of Altitude Sickness

After the tour of Qorikancha, we walked down the steps and into the nearby Hotel Libertador so I could get money from their ATM. Ana Maria got a call from her daughter in Switzerland at the moment. It turned out it was Ana Maria’s birthday. She didn’t mind working though. I certainly didn’t want to begrudge her the time to talk to her daughter. Perhaps more importantly, I need the time to rest. Walking down the steps of the church, my legs had felt a strange kind of weakness, like they didn’t have enough energy to move. Sitting down, I started to feel a headache and nausea. I took coca candy, pain pills and even Dramamine, which is really for motion sickness but my dad once said it is good for any kind of nausea.

By the time Ana Maria got off the phone and we’d had a chance to chat about her daughter and men and children in general, I felt better. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to feel that way again. I remembered Kitty’s advice to me about drinking lots of water, so I stopped at a convenience store to buy a 2.5 liter bottle of water. Ana Maria bought some crackers and offered me some. Surprisingly, those also made me feel better. I was told later that for some reason, sodium helps the body fight altitude sickness. That might explain why Peruvian food often tastes saltier than usual.

Ruins, Plazas, and Lunch

It was starting to get cold and the bottle of water was heavy, so I stopped to buy alpaca gloves and a water bottle carrier for large bottles. We walked down streets with more Inca ruins and a 12-sided stone surrounded by tourists with cameras. I’d already seen a 14-sided one so I wasn’t impressed. We walked up the hill towards Plaza and Iglesia San Blas, stopping halfway up so I could catch my breath. We also sat for a while near the plaza’s large water fountain.

After San Blas, we walked down the street known as “Seven Serpents” towards the famous hotel Monasterio. Even though the street barely had an incline, I had to stop and rest halfway. We made it to Plaza Mayor, and had a menu (a set lunch) of cream of spinach soup, kingfish with potatoes, and coconut flan at a restaurant overlooking the plaza. It was included in my tour so I don’t know the price. I also had my first cup of coca tea with fresh leaves in it, which seemed to literally lift the pressure off my head. I also got to say hi and goodbye to Rani, who was sitting with the couple who had been sitting across from Kitty and me on the train to Ollantaytambo. I remember them vividly because Kitty and I overheard them talking with another couple about their climb up Wayanpicchu (crazy!) and the fact that they would be staying at the Hosteria in Rumichaca.

Second Wave of Altitude Sickness

When lunch ended, I was surprised that when I stood up, I felt worse than I had before lunch. I had been sitting and eating and resting—how could I feel worse? I learned later that part of the problem was that the restaurant was enclosed. Spaces with open air have more fresh oxygen. Also, you are supposed to eat light when you are adjusting to altitude sickness. Maybe if you eat, all the blood rushes from your head to your stomach and makes it harder to get oxygen in there. I don’t know.

What I do know is that I left the restaurant anyway with Ana Maria and walked with her to the second cathedral on our tour. I had to sit down while she went in and bought the tickets. We walked into the cathedral and went to the newest part. We walked past about four pews, and then I HAD to sit down. I was afraid if I didn’t I would pass out. The headache was becoming like a vice around my head. My legs had no energy in them. It was like being attacked by Harry Potter’s Dementors without the accompanying depression.

Stubbornly, I got up again after a minute. I had paid too much for this tour not to take it or enjoy it. Ana Maria continued explaining while I struggled to pay attention. As we started to cross into the second part of the cathedral, I noticed an oxygen tank. Ana Maria looked at it too, and suggested that I sit down and take some oxygen.

A nurse came over to me and put the mask around my nose and mouth. She explained that in enclosed spaces with many people, the oxygen gets used up faster and people are more susceptible to altitude sickness. She also said that at night the air is cooler and the oxygen is lower to the ground. As it warms up during the day, the oxygen rises and is harder to get. That’s why I didn’t have altitude sickness the night before. I’m also starting to think the lack of insulation in the buildings in Cuzco and Rumichaca were a blessing. The walls’ porous nature may have made it easier to breathe in them.

Ana Maria asked the nurse if I should take Diamox. The nurse said it is a diuretic, so she didn’t recommend it. The best course of action is inhaling oxygen; the effects are felt quickly and there are no side effects. She also recommended drinking Gatorade and eating salty food to build up the body’s supply of salt. Finally, she recommended resting with my feet elevated on a pillow so that the blood would flow to the brain more easily.

I took off the oxygen mask when I saw the family from Lima that had been on our river rafting trip and whom we had run into several times in Machu Picchu. I didn’t want to be seen in such a sorry state. I chatted briefly with them, then Ana Maria and I finished the tour of the cathedral. Ana Maria then led me to a drug store to buy Sorochji pills. I had seen an ad for them, and Kitty said they worked pretty well (though she couldn’t take them because she was allergic). The timing was good—while we were inside buying the pills, we missed a short rainstorm (the only one on my trip).

Ana Maria also helped me find a store with Gatorade and crackers. At that point, I could not have functioned in these places without her. I had never been so grateful to have a private tour guide in my life.

We got back to the guesthouse. Ana Maria told Ramiro I had had altitude sickness, “but not too bad.” I could only wonder what “bad” would have felt like. Ramiro paid her, and I gave her a big hug. Then I went to my room for Gatorade, crackers, tea, Sorochji pills, and a nap.

Evening in Cuzco

When I woke up, I felt well enough to leave the house again. I walked to the post office and bought some postcards. I also checked my email for only 1 sol an hour. I continued up Avenida El Sol. I was approached by two women selling souvenirs. I started to look at one interesting one made of calabasa (gourd), when a police officer walked by wagging his finger at the women. I walked away, but one of the girls chased me down the street and explained he was only upset because the street vendors don’t pay taxes. It still seemed weird, but the girl was so persistent and we’d already started talking prices so like an idiot I felt compelled to buy that and a few other things from her to boot. After that, though, I started resisting street sellers much more firmly.

I walked around the Plaza but couldn’t find any place special to eat. A small pizzeria looked busy and inexpensive, so I went in. The pizza wasn’t that great, but it was only 5 dollars. I really wanted beer or wine with it, but I didn’t dare touch alcohol while I was still recovering from altitude sickness.

Our train arrived in Ollantaytambo from Aguas Calientes/Machu Picchu at 6:00. A taxi driver arranged by Hosteria Rumichaca picked us up and drove us to the sister guesthouse in Cuzco. We wondered if this was necessary, but we had heard people on the train saying that it was faster to go to Cuzco by car than by train. There were also many taxis offering to take people to Cuzco, so it seemed reasonable. It was dark for much of the trip, so we didn’t see much except stars. It was worth it, though, to hear the taxi driver’s cell phone ring—a perfect recording or a rooster crowing. It was adorable.

An hour and a half later, Jose’s brother, Ramiro, greeted us at the door. To my right I saw a dining room with the old furniture and a large portrait of a woman now deceased. I think this was probably Jose and Ramiro’s mother’s house originally.

Ramiro led us up the 3 (!) flights of stairs to our room. Not only were there two bottles of water on the table in the room as in Rumichaca, there was a water cooler outside the room in case we needed more. Clearly this was to protect against altitude sickness. Ramiro asked if we wanted anything to eat. We were hungry, but between the exhaustion from our hike and the altitude, we couldn’t face going back up and down those stairs. Twenty minutes later a servant brought to our room two plates, each with two hamburger patties, sliced tomatoes, and fried potato slices. There was also a basket of four small round pieces of Andean flatbread. We sliced the bread in half and put a patty on it with ketchup, mustard and tomato. We washed it down with some chamomile tea. It totally hit the spot. Then we each took a well-deserved shower, and hit the sack.

Rafting on the Rio Urubamba

Kitty had heard that river rafting on the Rio Urubamba was good, and had asked Jose to include that in our trip package. We had breakfast at 9:00 a.m. At 10:15, Rani walked Kitty and I to the main road where we caught our bus to the river rafting center. At the center, we were asked to go into changing rooms and put on wetsuits, jackets, life vests and helmets provided by the rafting company. We grabbed the lightest paddles we could and received our basic paddling lesson. The whole process—the drive, the changing, the lessons—seemed to take forever.

Finally, we got into the raft. There were four rafts going downstream at the same time. In our raft there were six people: our guide, me, Kitty, a guy from France, and two guys from Canada. Our raft was called “Puno”. I didn’t dare try to take pictures on the trip, and didn’t think to give my camera to the bus driver to take pictures. I didn’t know he would be following us and coming to the water’s edge periodically. Thus, I only have pictures in my mind, like the view of the brown rocky mountains 20,000 feet high above us as we wound our way through the valley. We saw sheep, pigs, cows, and one duckling. Children waved to us from bridges. Our guide pointed out Inca ruins as well: terrazas where food had been cultivated; bridges built by the Incas; and food storage buildings (colcas) thousands of feet up.

Other memories were more emotional in nature. I still remember the chill of the water splashed on us by the raft of crazy Dutch boys during one of several “attacks” during the trip. I remember the fun of raising our paddles in the air in the middle, shouting, “1, 2, 3, Puno!” and then smacking our paddles on the water. (Well, my paddle simply went “thud”, but I heard the smack of the guide’s paddle behind me.) I remember the exhilaration of getting through Class 1, then 2, then 3 rapids without overturning or breaking our heads or necks, though Kitty and I spent most of the last rapid tucked inside the boat for safety. We kept paddling anyway. I also remember the shock of watching Kitty take the plunge into that cold water when we reached the end of our ride and the guide said that it was okay to jump in.

We got onto dry land and waited another interminable length of time while the gear was gathered and loaded on our bus. We were surprised when the guides asked us to change out of our wetsuits even though our endpoint didn’t have changing rooms. Kitty and I had to use the bus as a changing room. We tried to pick a time when it was ladies-only on the bus, but the first time we got on we nearly caught a Dutchman in his birthday suit, and if the Frenchman had gotten on the bus a minute earlier, he would have caught me in mine.

Our bus took us back to the starting point for a lunch of soup, lukewarm chicken and rice, and bananas. Kitty nearly choked on the chicken, but one of the rafters knew the Heimlich maneuver and saved her life.

Ollantaytambo

Kitty and I left before dessert was over. Our second tour guide, Ana Maria, was waiting to take us for our tour of Ollantaytambo. It is a small town allegedly named after an Inca general, Ollanta, and means “Ollanta’s place of rest.” Not a place of rest like a grave, but a place to stop and rest for the night.

Our main stop (besides the small but lovely handicrafts market of Ollantaytambo) was the Inca fortress, home to a myriad of microclimates and structures. The most imposing image was the pyramid of stones and grass. I hiked to the top and got my picture taken. We also saw trapezoid-shaped stone doors and water canals cut directly into the cobblestone. There were grassy streams, and a hundred yards away there were cacti and mountain chaparral.

At one point, we saw two women and two young children, all wearing woven red clothing. Some of their hats had flowers in them. The children wanted to sing for us (for a tip, of course). We asked them to follow us to a bench where we could sit and rest and listen to the song. The little girl was nervous, though. Apparently, we were close to another singer’s territory, and she was afraid he would get mad at her. So she didn’t sing as loudly or clearly as the boy (her brother, perhaps)? But it was cute nonetheless and Kitty gladly gave them each 1 sol as a propino (tip) for their trouble.

We finished walking around the fortress and then went to the market, a small maze of cobblestones and huts with straw roofs. I bought quite a few nice things there.

A Fleecing of a Different Kind?

We found our taxi and Ana Maria again, and went back to the Hosteria for a nap and Pisco sour. Jose came into the living room to give us our train tickets and explain the procedure for the next morning. Kitty and I were both aghast and agape when he handed us tickets for the Backpacker train. We had assumed (foolishly) that for the amount of money we were paying, we would be taking the Vistadome train. Our train tickets were only $57 each round trip. The entrance into Ollantaytambo, which was included in our package, was only $20 each. Where had the rest of our money gone?

Kitty bravely went to Jose and Irene after dinner and asked them for an itemized bill. Irene had the same look on her face that we must have when we saw our Backpacker train tickets. The next morning, Jose handed it to us in an envelope. Irene was not there to say goodbye.

Looking at the list, some aspects of the trip seemed reasonable, such as the rafting trip and the tour of Cuzco (which Kitty knew was expensive). Our hotel in Aguas Calientes was also expensive based on the signs we saw later at the hotel. But we still figured out we paid $85 a night for our Rumichaca room which did not have a TV or a space heater. And we were charged $20 each above that for our 3-course meals. Later I learned that the meal price was about right for Aguas Calientes, but that is right next to Machu Picchu. It seemed excessive for where we were, though some of that must have gone to pay for the servants and their white gloves. Even the taxis were overpriced. My taxi from Cuzco to the airport was listed as 10 dollars, but Kitty knew from experience it was not more than 10 soles.

To sum up, I guess if you are totally new to Peru and are willing to pay above and beyond for the convenience of having everything pre-arranged, then Hosteria Rumichaca is an okay place to be. For experienced travelers in the region, I could not strongly recommend it and I say regretfully that I would not plan to stay there again. I would consider staying again at their sister guesthouse in Cuzco (though I wonder if $50 a night was a fair deal), and take the train or a taxi from there to Ollantaytambo and stay in a hotel there. I would use Ollantaytambo or Cuzco as a base to take tourist trips to Pisac and the church in Chinchero, a sight Kitty was disappointed we missed.

Journey to Cuzco

The taxi picked us up at Kitty’s at 7:30 a.m. The driver had both windows rolled down. Kitty asked him to roll up the window on his side because her hair was still wet and it was chilly out. The driver did it, but said he had never rolled up his window completely before in his life. I could only imagine what his Ukrainian equivalents would say to that. In Ukraine, having a cross-breeze is considered literally the kiss of death.

We got to the Lima airport at 8:00 for our 9:00 flight. Just as Kitty had warned me, the airport was a zoo. The lines seemed to go on forever. We had gone to great lengths to check in online (taking a long walk to an internet café to print out my boarding passes the day before), and that still seemed like less hassle than waiting in that line. Fortunately, we found the shorter line for people with boarding passes.

We dropped off our bags, then went through the line to pay our airport departure taxes. Someone later said that the airports have a hard time collecting taxes from the airlines, so they collect it directly from the passenger. Lima airport charges $6.05 (about 20 soles) for domestic flights. We paid it, got our sticker, and went through to the gate.

Before we got on the plane, Kitty bought some coca candy. The candy is made from the coca plant, from which cocaine can be made. However, coca itself is not an illegal drug. It is merely an herbal remedy said to increase energy, aid digestion, and reduce the effects of altitude sickness. Cuzco is 11,000 feet high and the Sacred Valley is about 8000-9000 feet high, so reducing altitude sickness there was important.

When we arrived at Cuzco airport, our tour guide, Rani, was waiting for us. So was some warm sunshine, a pleasant and unexpected surprise considering it was winter and Lima is nearly always cloudy and cold.

We got in the car and drove off into the hills of the Sacred Valley while Kitty and I rubbed muna into our hands and sniffed it. Muna (pronounced moon-ya) is a minty herb which is also said to reduce altitude sickness. Kitty had bought it at a market on her last trip to Cuzco.

Llama and Alpaca Encounter

Our first stop was a place where we could see how llama and alpaca wool is woven into various materials. First, Rani talked about the different types of llamas and alpacas, their origins and relations to the camel family, and the varying qualities of their wool. Baby alpaca is among the best. Vicuna is the wildest and thus the most expensive.

Next, a little girl wearing traditional indigenous clothes (black felt hat, red coat, black embroidered skirt, and sandals) handed Kitty and me small bunches of alfafa to give to the animals. At first I felt sorry for this young girl having to work at such a young age, but later I saw her hug and stroke a llama’s neck and I knew she truly loved the animals and her job.

The llamas and alpacas walked up to us and started taking the branches directly from our hand. We were allowed to stroke the animals’ furry necks, too. It is now officially the best petting zoo I’ve ever been to in my life.

The Weavers

We were then shown the different herbs and insects that were crushed to make dyes for the llama and alpaca wool. We watched a man with a colorful knit hat spin the wool into thread. Along the path to the store there were a few artisans weaving the colored threads on a loom. Rani said that each Indian group has its own weaving pattern that they memorize and weave into their clothes. He added that it can take a month to weave one cloth.

Our last stop in this place was the store. I was planning to buy something even though I knew it would be a little more expensive, but the items there were well beyond my means. I left a tip at the exit for the last weaver because I took a picture, and we got back in the car.

Entrance into the Sacred Valley

We continued to drive into the hills until we reached an overlook with a good view of the Sacred Valley. The valley got that name because the land is very fertile. The minute we got out of the car, we were flanked by little children peddling souvenirs. Kitty said it reminded her of Egypt. I bought a trinket, then paid three children in traditional dress 50 Peruvian cents each to take a picture with me and Kitty.

The Market at Pisac

We arrived at the Pisac Market at 1:00 pm. The market is open three days a week, but Sunday is traditionally the best day. More stalls are open on Sunday, including stalls run by Indians who come into town from the villages. It is also possible on Sunday to go to the church at the market and see the Sunday mass in the Quechua language.

Rani led us along the cobblestoned streets to our first stop, a bakery. The huge, round, woodfire hearth oven dates back to colonial times. The cook was making empanadas, a kind of savory South American pastry. These small empanadas had a soft, buttery, doughy crust and were filled with cheese, tomato, basil, and oregano. They were only 2 soles each. They were so delicious, Kitty went back to the bakery to get two more at the end of our visit.

Rani then showed us the food section of the market. We saw many varieties of corn, potatoes, peppers, pumpkin, and more. Potatoes reportedly originate from Peru, and there are 600 varieties nationwide. Corn is the second most important staple; there are 400 varieties of corn.

We walked from the food section of the market to the church for a brief glimpse inside. Apparently, there had been a wedding earlier; many people in fine clothes were congratulating each other, and there were flowers everywhere.

Rani left us on our own for about an hour to shop the handicrafts portion of the market. 50 minutes of shopping has never passed so quickly. We barely saw a quarter of the market. On the other hand, I was grateful we didn’t have more time as I easily could have run out of money there. There were so many beautiful scarves, rugs, dolls, and bags of brightly colored woven or embroidered cloth. The prices were very reasonable too.

Hosteria Rumichaca

We reluctantly left the market chomping on our second round of empanadas and arrived at the Hosteria Rumichaca at 3:00. Rumichaca is a tiny town of 100 people just passed the larger Sacred Valley town of Urubamba. We were staying there because Kitty had a friend at the embassy who knew the owners. We also had been able to ask them arrange the taxis, the tours, and train tickets to Aguas Calientes to see Machu Picchu.

As we drove through the hamlet of Rumichaca with its plain stone walls, I started to have low expectations of the hosteria. Then we arrived at the hosteria gate and were buzzed in. I was pleasantly surprised to see a building of bright yellow, orange, blue and wood surrounded by a garden of flowers. Jose and Irene, the owners of the hosteria, were outside to greet us, as were 4 of their 5 lovely white dogs (Alaskan malamute/Saroyan mixes).

We walked inside and saw a living room decorated with numerous traditional rugs and wall hangings. Yet it didn’t feel over the top or kitschy. We went from there to the kitchen, where we were served a three course lunch by a young man wearing white gloves. Our first course was chicken soup which brought back memories of my great-grandmother’s chicken soup (may she rest in peace). The main course was lomo saltado (stir-fry tenderloin) with potatoes and rice. Dessert was quince pie with an extremely flaky buttery crust and a cup of coca tea with chamomile.

The Ceramic Store

After stuffing our faces, Kitty, Rani, and I took a walk through the town of Rumichaca. The notable (and appreciated) sights were barley fields and bulls. Rani led us to a ceramics shop where a man named Henry explained how he made his pottery and chose designs either from a book of Inca symbols or his own imagination. He even demonstrated how his unique approach to pottery made his ceramics so tough, he could use it to hammer a nail into wood. If this guy could speak English, he could have his own infomercial in the States.

I felt I had to buy something of his to remember the experience. I really liked the terra cotta bowl with the white porcelain inside—it would have made a great popcorn bowl—but I thought it would be too big and heavy to bring back to the States. I settled instead for two mugs with a clear finish inside. Kitty was the big spender, buying a long mirror with a frame of wood and tiles of individual, brightly-painted symbols around it. It was too big to carry to the hosteria, let alone on an airplane. Henry arranged to have it wrapped and sent on a truck from Cuzco to Lima. Miraculously, it arrived as scheduled and in one piece.

Dinner at the Hosteria

We walked back to the Hosteria and took a nap before happy hour at 7:30. Actually, we got down to the living room at 7:45, so we didn’t get our complimentary pisco sour until dinner. Nevertheless, we enjoyed sitting by the fire and chatting with the other guests: two families from San Francisco, a family from Lima, and a couple from Germany. We spent a lot of time talking about the teacher’s strike in Cuzco. They were protesting a proposal by the government to require teachers to pass a proficiency exam in their subject. Their anger had led them to set fire to a field near the Cuzco airport, causing the whole airport to be closed for a day and seriously disrupting travel into Cuzco, the Sacred Valley, and Machu Picchu.

At 8:00, dinner was served—another delicious 3 course meal. After dinner and dessert, Jose led us outside to look at the stars. The moon was half full, so Jose said there weren’t as many stars as usual. But what was there was beautiful.

Hi,

Here’s the last of the Peru Pages. It’s a big one, a kind of double issue, because if I don’t send it now, it won’t get done.  This last of the Peru Pages covers my trip to the Sacred Valley, an area of fertile land and many ruins between Cuzco and Machu Picchu.  It also covers my trip to Cuzco, which I managed to enjoy despite the extreme altitude.

The pictures are at:

http://s193.photobucket.com/albums/z72/reisefrau/Peru–Sacred Valley/

and

http://s193.photobucket.com/albums/z72/reisefrau/Peru–Cuzco/

I stayed more days in Lima than the two posts here, but most of the hightlights of those days in Lima were the food.  Twice Kitty and I ordered pollo a la brasa (rotisserie chicken) from Pardo’s Chicken.  The skin was seasoned with salt, pepper, and other spices I couldn’t identify but made the chicken flavorful but not spicy.  It was served with a garlic sauce and mayonnaise for dipping. One time I was able to get yucca fries with it. 
 

My last full day in Lima I went to La Mar, a very famous ceviche restaurant in Miraflores.  Ceviche is a kind of raw seafood dish with lime juice and onions.  I ordered a bowl of it along with a pisco cocktail made from aguaymento, a fruit that looked like a yellow cherry tomato but tasted sweeter. For dessert I had suspiro limeno (Breath of Lima), which should be called Walk of the Diabetic.  It was a bowl of manjar, a kind of carmelized sugar–much too sweet to be eaten alone.
 

I still had room that night for the dinner Elcina prepared for a reception at Kitty’s apartment. Jodi, Marcela, Jorge, and administrators of BNCs in and near Lima were there.  For appetizers we had awesome guacamole (mashed avocado with spices) and tortilla chips, and fried yucca with huancaina sauce, a peanut sauce from the Huancayo region of Peru. 
 

For dinner, we had aji al gallina, chicken in a creamy sauce, lomo asado (roast beef), sweet potatoes, regular potatoes, rice with vegetables, and rice without vegetables.  It was all so delicious.  Even the Peruvians raved about how good the food was.  Since they had most certainly tried these dishes many times at home and in other places, their praise carried more weight in my opinion.
 

For dessert, we had alfajors from Wong supermarket. Alfajors (sounds unfortunately like alpha-whores) are shortbread cookies with a layer of manjar in between and powdered sugar sprinkled on top.  They were sweet but not deadly.
 

Kitty had been informed by the Cultural Liaison Officer at the U.S. Embassy that there was a guided bus tour of Central Lima available for Embassy workers and their friends or family.  The cost was $5.  It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
 

The Tour

We saw many sights including the Congress Building, the Church of San Pedro, Plaza Mayor, Plaza San Martin, and the Santo Domingo artisan market.  The two highlights of the day, though, were the Museo del Banco Central de Reserva (the Museum of the Central Reserve Bank) and the Church of San Francisco. 
 

The museum was not actually about the Central Reserve; rather, they used the former reserve bank’s space to display traditional ceramics. Its vault was used to store and display gold jewelry dating back several hundred years B.C.  It seemed more real to me than the gold in the museum at Larcomar, and this building had free admission.  The tour guide also said the museum had the cleanest bathroom on the tour.  At that announcement, my respect for her grew immensely.
 

The Church of San Francisco was either in a poorer neighborhood, was run by a less ostentatious religious order than other cathedrals and churches in the area, or both.  It was surrounded by pigeons and the doors and walls seemed worn down and in need of a paint job.  Two ladies were setting up tables to sell food to raise money for the church’s renovation.
 

The church has a 5 soles entrance fee per person, which the tour guide paid for all of us.  We saw the main altar, the beautiful garden courtyard with the brick walkways laid out in the shapes of crosses, and the library with ancient books in disrepair.  The tour guide said the Franciscans don’t have enough money to restore these treasures.
 

The last stop on the tour was the catacombs.  Here we saw hallway after hallway of bones and wells covered at the bottom with skulls and bones.  Some collections of bones were covered with glass because in the past people had been known to steal bones.  Not me.  I was so horrified by the first sight of skulls in a well I couldn’t even take a picture.  By the end of the tour, though, I was able to take a picture of one, as well as a picture of a sign that said “keep walking.” I thought it was ironic that this sign was surrounded by bones and a stairway that went nowhere.
 

By the time we got out of the church, the two ladies selling food for the fundraiser had opened the stand for business.  The tour guide bought some papas rellenos (stuffed potatoes) to take on the bus. I asked what they were exactly, and she said, “You’ve never had papas rellenos? Oh, you’re gonna LOVE them!” She then proceeded to buy me one because I didn’t have any small change and we needed to get on the bus.  It turned out it was mashed potatoes that filled with meat, beans, and corn, then rolled up and deep fried.  It was fattening but delicious!
 

A Tale of Two Taxis (and a museum)

We got on the bus and got back to the Embassy at about 1:00.  I’ve been advised not to take the combis in Peru, and you can’t take a taxi on the street because the driver might turn into an alley so his associates can rob you at gunpoint.  This is not an exaggeration—it has happened to many people, including one of Kitty’s colleagues.  Instead, I waited nearly half an hour for a taxi that I called from the Embassy entrance.  My destination: Museo de la Nacion. I thought it would be like the Smithsonian or the British Museum, but it was much more modest.  Of course, so was the price (7 soles).  There was a nice collection of pre-Columbian art and Inca Gold among the dioramas of Peruvian civilizations.  There was also an exhibition of Peruvian Indian handicrafts.  The bright, colorful fabrics, intricate pottery, and alpaca sweaters and rugs were more impressive than the main exhibits.
 

When I left the museum, there was one taxi waiting.  I didn’t like the looks of that so I went across the highway to Plaza Vea, a huge grocery store.  Sure enough, the store had its own taxi drivers.  The driver seemed nice, and suggested a fair price to return to Kitty’s.  Twice on the way to Kitty’s I shut my eyes because of his driving, but I wasn’t robbed at gunpoint so I feel it was a successful journey. 
 

My flights from Los Angeles to El Salvador and from El Salvador to Lima on TACA Airlines were great, especially since I lucked out and got an emergency exit row seat on both flights.  When I arrived in Lima at 6:25 p.m., I was shocked at what I saw out my window: darkness.  There was no escaping the fact that it was winter in Peru.  Later, Kitty told me that it doesn’t get dark much later in summer.  How depressing. 
 

A man was waiting from Taxi Real to take me to Kitty’s apartment in Miraflores, a luxury suburb of Lima.  It’s the nicest apartment I’ve ever stayed in with her. I didn’t see any concrete walls that weren’t painted.  There were modern American appliances and climate control.  There was a huge glass patio door which overlooked a park.
 

Even though Lima and Los Angeles are only two hours apart (three when daylight savings ends in L.A.), I guess with the short time for sleep on the overnight flight to El Salvador I had some kind of jet lag.  I didn’t wake up the next day until after 10 am.  Kitty’s maid, Elcina, was in the kitchen when I walked in.  She offered to make something for me.  I told her (in Spanish) that I didn’t have a maid at home, so it was hard to accept that offer. 
 

I brewed myself a cup of Columbian coffee—not the kind from an American can, but coffee that Kitty had actually bought in Columbia on one of her trips.  It was one of the best cups of coffee I’ve ever had.
 

Following Kitty’s advice, I walked to the nearby cafeteria (coffee house/shop) San Antonio.  It was a nice day, so I sat outside and used the chain on an extra chair at my table to lock up my purse.  For less than $5, I got a “butifarra” sandwich and a medium glass of strawberry juice.  The menu said the sandwich was made with ham and “salsa criolla”, which I assumed would be a spicy red sauce.  It turned out to be a mix of shredded cabbage, red onion, and spices. It was good nonetheless.
 

I asked the waiter where the nearest bank was, and he directed me up Avenida Angamos Oeste towards Avenida Arequipa.  I walked past colorful school buildings, day spas, high-end clothing boutiques, Italian and Chinese restaurants, taxis honking for business (or to warn you to get out of the way), and combis, the Peruvian word for minibuses that drive around on a bus route. (In Russian they are marshrutkas and in Romanian they are routieras.)  Sometimes men leaned out of the combi doors and shouted the direction or stops of the combi.  I also caught a glimpse of the local huaca, a kind of cemetery/ruins.
 

After getting my money, I turned right on Arequipa and walked until I reached a traffic circle.  I turned right again on Avenida Jose Pardo.  While walking on Jose Pardo, I saw a place called “Vivanda”.  Intuition told me it might be a grocery store.  Sure enough, it was.  It looked as good as Whole Foods, an upscale supermarket in the U.S.  There were glass cases filled with prepared salads, pastries, empanadas, meats, and fish.  There were trays with small samples of Edam cheese and queso fresco (fresh cheese). 
 

After looking around Vivanda, I kept walking down Jose Pardo until at last I reached the Malecon, the street and park that sits on top of a huge cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  The cliffs were jagged and covered at the top with a layer of small green plants, purple flowers, palm trees, and cacti. 
 

I started walking on the Malecon in the direction of Kitty’s apartment, passing a skateboarding and BMX bike area as well as a tennis court and fenced-in soccer field.  I had a cup of tea at El Punto, a small café with seats right next to the cliff railing.
 

When I got to Kitty’s street, it was only 3:00 in the afternoon.  It seemed too soon to go home.  I made a U-turn and continued walking down the Malecon.  I saw a memorial to the Peruvian Navy (a black and white lighthouse), “Parque Itzak Rabin”, and Parque del Amor, a park with beautifully tiled walls and a giant sculpture of a couple making out. There were several possible models of the statue in the park as well.  In addition, I saw several people parasailing. I was tempted to try it myself, but at $40 for 10 minutes, it was too rich for my blood.
 

My last stop of the day was Larco Mar, a luxurious shopping complex built into the side of the cliff.  It was a mix of U.S. restaurants (Tony Roma’s, Dunkin’ Donuts, Starbucks, Hooters) and Andean art stores.  Once I saw that candles were $22 and alpaca coats were $300, I knew I’d only be window shopping.
 

I did find one (seeming) treasure at Larcomar—the Museo de Oro de Peru.  For 20 soles, I got a guided tour of golden trinkets made in the Sipan era and other empires over 1000 years ago.  I saw earrings, nose rings, heavy royal headdresses, hatchets (tumis), masks, and goblets from which they drank the blood of sacrificed humans. 
 

After all that, I took a taxi back to Kitty’s for 10 soles.  Elcina had prepared fried fish with tomatoes, onions, and yellow peppers, along with baked sweet potatoes and vegetables.  Suddenly I was warming to the idea of having maid service.

Hi,
 

I’m sure by now you have all heard about the devastating earthquake in Peru.  Some of my friends and family have already called or written to ask if I was there at the time, to ask if I was anywhere near the affected areas, or to express relief that I wasn’t there for that.
 

So let me say again that I got home over a week before the quake hit. I was never in Pisco or Ica, the two hardest hit towns. However, Pisco is the town where the national liquor, pisco, is made.  Also, I had heard Pisco and Ica were lovely cities and worth visiting. They were on my list for places I’d like to see if I ever get to go back. 
 

My friend Kitty left Peru for D.C. on the 9th, so she wasn’t there. Jodi left on the 10th and wasn’t directly affected either.  I got an email confirmation from Marcela that she, Jorge (another embassy worker), and Elcina (Kitty’s maid) and their families are all well, as are their homes and offices in Lima. Of course, others were not so lucky. 
 

If you have enjoyed these Peru Pages and have the means, you might consider making a donation to the Red Cross (www.redcross.org) specifically for the Peru earthquake victims.
 

Here, then, are the pictures and journal entries for Lima and Miraflores, which is the nice neighborhood near Lima where Kitty lives.
 

The pics are found at:
 

http://s193.photobucket.com/albums/z72/reisefrau/Peru–Lima/
 

If you are joining the list late or can’t find the previous emails, you can read the stories and find links to pictures online at blogs.bootsnall.com/Reisefrau.
 

I’ll try to get the pics and journal for the last piece, the Sacred Valley and Cuzco, before I leave this Friday (the day after tomorrow) for the drive to Philadelphia. Until then take care. 
 

Love,
Bridget
 

P.S. My friend Alison, who just got back from a month in China, told me that the correct pronunciation of the Chinese restaurant in Tacna is “Salon de Fu Ching”. “Fu Ching” means either “Happy Youth” or “Happiness Youth.”