Peru and Beyond- finding my way around South America

Where to start? Machu Picchu is one of those places you can´t not visit when in Peru, possibly even South America. Photos are plastered everywhere, every angle, every kind of light. You think you know exactly what to expect, what will meet you when you first get a top that mountain, yet the experience could not be further removed from what is imagined. No photo, video or description can really do justice to this beautiful, magical and sacred place. Having said all that, I will do my best to tell of my recent adventures and perhaps you can feel as though you have walked along a few tracks with me!

There are several different options to get to Machu Picchu. Perhaps the most famous is the Inca trail, a hike which can only be done with a guide and is usually booked out a year in advance. Apart from that slight problem, it takes 5 days, something I could not do over a weekend and get back to work in time. The next most popular option is to catch a tourist train into Aguas Caliente, the town of Machu Picchu at the foot of the mountain. This is rediculously expensive, as Peru Rail has an absolute monopoly as there are no roads leading into the town and no cars are allowed anywhere. Apart from that, we felt it was hardly satisfying enough to just go with the crowds, the easy and comfortable way. Somehow we all had the feeling we needed to work to deserve the sights that would meet us at the top.

There is one other way to get to our final destination, and it would take us all day to do this. Armed with lonely planet guides and instructions written out by seasoned volunteer Chris who had already taken the same trip, Sidsil, Marina, Marianne and myself set out early on saturday the 19th of September.

Originally planning to take a 4 and a half hour bus to Santa Maria, this changed when we found out you couldnt buy tickets, therefore meaning we would most likely be standing the whole way, as well as the fact that they couldnt tell us when the next bus would stop by. We decided to take a taxi/car for a little bit more and enjoyed this part of the trip in style. The taxi wound up impossibly steep and narrow roads out of the valley. The landscape changed dramatically as we drove on. Higher and higher we went, driving past snow peaks and glaciers grinding their own mark in the harsh Andean stone. At a certain point we literally reached the clouds, seeing nothing for quite some time. We stopped at the hightest point here, 4316 metres, shivering as we took the obligatory photos. It was intensly cold, the landscape and climate very unforgiving to the few locals we saw, clambering up steep mountain paths and tending to a few pigs tied up outside. We drove on and once again descended into another valley. The contrast could not have been more stark. The climate changed to a balmy, hot and humid jungle. We drove onward through banana plantations and probably many other kinds of plantations hidden in the jungle. The people looked different too. They lived their lives at a different pace and for a different cause than those clasping onto whatever they could salvage, including any warmth they could find, in the Andean highlands. Here in the valley there was no shortage of heat.

We followed the valley to Santa Maria, from there taking another car to Santa Theresa. We again went up out of the valley along the most treacherous little dirt road I have ever been on. It was a little dirt road carved into the side of the mountain. They had only scraped away the bare minimum to allow one car to fit. On one side mountain, on the other side dropping away straight into valley, a river curling around through it, the white waters kindly reminding us of our potential fate. I thought this was sketchy enough until we encountered a bus. I still dont know how we managed to pass this bus, but im still here to write about it so something must have worked. At that point my eyes were firmly clasped closed. (For those of you who know my driveway, imagine the width of that, take away the little edge where people walk up, add a cliff probably a kilometre deep to that side and then imagine 2 cars/busses passing each other) It goes without saying that I was very glad to reach Santa Theresa.

From Santa Theresa we followed a similar road to the ´Hydroelectrica´ a place at the river where an old (apparently defunct) train track carves around the mountain to Aguas Caliente, or Machu Picchu town. On this bus trip I was wooed by a charming (OR NOT) character who introduced himself as Fernando. He began to sing and dance for me and told me he loved me, while making not so pleasant actions to go with his affections. I was not impressed. We told him I had a boyfriend (shhhh….. that little lie always works well) but that seemed to only make him more keen to prove that he was a better catch. He tried to follow us but we finally got rid of him.

We arrived late in the afternoon and began the walk down the old rain tracks. It was amazingly beautiful. Lush jungle, the air was damp bùt still pleasant to breathe. There was hardly a path to walk on, so we spent most of the time stepping on the actual tracks. As fun as this can be for a short time, doing it for two hours is very frustrating, because you have to  always watch where you are stepping. Dizzy and almost hypnotised we finally stumbled into the final destination of Aguas Caliente. Tired and so full of images and impressions, it was hard to believe that all we had seen had only happened in one day.

We found a hostel, some dinner and went to be early so we could manage the early morning start up the mountain to Machu Picchu itself. Tired, itchy and rather sweaty we fell into our beds, the thought of Machu Picchu so close feeling rather surreal.

It is ironic, that just a few days before, I was talking to my mother saying how proud I was I had not yet experienced a single bout of the dreaded travellers disease (read lots of trips to the toilet with food leaving your body any way possible). I spoke about how tough my stomach was, how good all the food here was and how I could not understand what all the fuss was about. Oops. My housemate and I both woke up last Wednesday morning not feeling all that flash. Sick but not too sick, I shrugged it off and went to work. Poor Miriea only made it past 10 am at work, and I struggled to finish the day.

That night was hell. Not to go into too many details, but I swear I have never had to go to the toilet as many times as I did that night. It got to the point where I would force myself to drink 2 teaspoons of water, and one minute later it was already time to go running. Never have I been so nauseous even smelling water. Is it possible to even smell water??? Miriea suffered in a similar fashion. It is not difficult to therefore imagine how we looked and felt the next morning.

We quickly got taken to the local clinic, named Hampini Wasi (in hindsight I can find this name amusing, however at the time I´m not even sure I noticed where we were getting taken). We spent a long long time in the waiting room, doing just that, waiting. Everyone had lunch breaks, morning tea breaks, just breaks or when around sat there filling out important looking stuff. They took our names down eventually and then we waited for the doctor. As we had already diagnosed, after a blood test (??????) the doctor kindly told us we had travellers diarhea, and were told to drink plenty of fluids and take some medication ( antibiotics, ANTIOBIOTICS; ANTIBIOTICS) when in doubt, take some antibiotics is the moto here, even more so than back home.

 We were also given an injection to help the nausea, so that perhaps we could keep something down. The problem with all that was the nurse couldn’t find my vein where one would normally find one, so she decided to go for the outside of my wrist. WHAT THE HELL. Of there is no decent vein on the side of my wrist. After much poking around I basically fainted, and while I was down she grabbed my other hand and god knows how found another vein on the top of it, near my knuckle. A decent amount of fluid went in apparently, or at least that’s what I can assume from the massive bruise I now sport.

After the little feinting episode, they wouldn’t let me go until I drank a litre of electrolytes. Now electrolytes seem like it would be nice tasting, sugary fruity flavoured concoctions, but do not be fooled, they are DISGUSTING. Each sip is a mixture of intense sweet, like fake sweetener stuff, combined with plenty of salt and on top of all that in effort to mask it, the most horrible fake strawberry flavour. Each sip is like taking 10 of the most horrible shots of the cheapest spirits. I´m not joking. It took me over an hour to drink the stuff, and as much as I hate to admit it, it did really help me up on my feet (in the most literal sense). More tests revealed that on top of all this, I also have a pretty bad urinary tract infection. How on earth that happened without me noticing I don’t know, but surprise surprise what was prescribed for that.

Friday I woke up feeling much better, eating and drinking and all such luxuries. I was mighty relieved, as we had already planned to trek to Machu Pichu the next morning. The trip was on. So armed with a backpack full of crackers and even some powdered electrolytes (only in SEVERE emergencies) I was ready for the weekends adventure. As dramatic as it all sounds, it really was all under control. They looked after us really well with projects abroad, concerned for our health and dragging us to the doctors. I survived it all quite well, and even the bruises from the needles are going down. I know there is help available when needed, even in a tiny town in the middle of the Sacred Valley. Let’s just hope I never get into the situation again where I have to drink an entire litre of that vile stuff. Perfect incentive to not get sick again!

Love to you all, and please don’t be worried (especially my dearest Mummy) xxxxxx

Once again a whole group of us volleys ventured up to the higher altitudes and city life of Cusco. This time it was another Aussies bday, so fun times were ahead. Driving into Cusco at night is magical… first we must go through the Sacred Valley, meandering through little villages until we finally get out of the valley, where after the bus drags itself up one last mountain, the views of Cusco city are spread out before us. Apparently the city is built to the shape of a puma, but for now all I can see is endless lights sprawling up the mountain, every flatish ledge or valley filled up. Breath still slightly compromised I am glad we begin to descend into the calley of Cusco, altitude of around 3400 metres.

The first task upon arrival is to find a hostel. A group of about 15 of us wander through the streets of Cusco, narrow, steep cobbled little adventures. We find a hostel right near the plaza, 15 soles each per night, (about $5 aus). Next stop, dinner. We find a little restaurant, we are the only table yet we take up most of the room. The menu? Alpaca steak of course. Together with soup, salad, dessert and drinks again i find myself only 15 soles less. How is this even possible???

Well fed and with a bed to sleep in at the end of the night, or as it turns out, that morning, we are ready to go out. Clubbing in Peru is a very different experience to anythign at Adelaide or elsewhere. For us gringos, there is no question of lining up or even paying. Different people fight for us, trying to drag us into their club. We are showered in free drink vouchers and dont know where to start….

We head to a local club, which plays a nice mix of salsa and other local stuff, as well as the old popular oldie in the mix as well. Lots of dancing, and yes, my salsa is actually progressing (Gabey you’d be proud!!!). After that it is INKATEAM… packed impossibly full with backpackers and the odd peruvian who was allowed inside. It is interesting to go out with such a large group of people, but more so a group of people who dont really know each other, how they usually are, and most importantly there are never any of those usual dramas, breakdowns, etc etc that usually come hand in hand with the consumption of alcohol. We danced the night away and found ourselves walking out of the club, treading lightly as our poor feet had quite the work out, in the early hours of the morning when the sun had already risen. Oops.

Trying to sleep was painful, crappy hotel beds, no pillows, and worst of all, someone starting some construction work on the hostel at 8am. Could they seriously be any meaner?? Cusco during the day is much different. The plaza so crowded with tourists and everyone else trying to cater for the tourists. It makes me realise how much I love quiet little Calca. The morning disappears in a haze, breakfast, fruit salad and fresh juice hardly appreciated by any of us. We decide that horseriding as planned was not an option. We wander the streets, I enquire about malaria tablets for my jungle trip in  3 weeks… we sit on a bench and laugh at tourists… and then decide we are getting nowhere and its time to catch the bus back.

Bus trips are always painful as such, cramped, smelly, bumpy and slow. This trip was no different and I was glad to finally be home. Coming back from Cusco and the horrible bed situation always makes me feel so at home… clean bed, pillow, lots of blankets. Sleep is always brilliant after such nights and I get to appreciate what level of accomodation I do have here.

Sunday began brilliantly. The roster was killed the day before, so I could finally sleep in. Comfortable and warm it was difficult to want to do anything else. The brilliant clear blue andean sky convinced me however, so off I went to enjoy some fresh juice (papaya, banana, piña, mango and orange) with my dear danish girl Sidsil. It was happy hour and we got 2 for the price of one, however we only foudn this out after we ordered two juices, and suddenly two more appeared. Oops. We quickly had to recruit some thirsty friends to help us out. The total cost? About $2 aus.

We decided to go to Ollayantytambo (still cannot say it, yet alone spell it) to experience some more Inca ruins and another town nestled into the valley. A 1.5 hour bus trip and I find myself again in the most picturesque little village, overpowered by mountains at all angles and watched over by the majestic ruins atop. There are ruins on both sides, so we tackle the ones that require no entry fee first. Climbing up was much easier than expected, yet still short of breath we arrived up the top. Oh the views!!! Each angle postcard perfect, I remind myself of my mother as I take a photo of each.

Lunch is a bit rushed, we go to the markets and stock up with an avocado, mango, some bread, bananas and mandarins each. Fresh fruit is amazing here, and it is sooooo easy to forget all they say about how dangerous it all is ( please note mum, all the fruit mentioned above CAN be peeled.. so no, dont panic yet).

We then wandered into the main ruins, usually a ticket if about 30 dollars is required, yet we just walked through the gate. Not complaining we begin to climb up the ancient inca steps. It is amazing to imagine the history of this place, the battles that were both won and lost, and all those who were worshiped up above in the temple de Sol (temple of the sun. huffing up the steps, I imagine the Inca warriors who ran up these stairs with comparable ease…. I imagine even further and marvel at those who actually carved away at the mountain, and even more so at those who apparently transported these rocks from a quarry about 6km down the valley. Such incredible faith and devotion, to their culture and religion, I still cannot really comprehend it.

Tired we take the bus back to Calca, and here I am, sitting in the little internet cafe while the little boy next to me is cranking out Barbie Girl and Candyman (Aqua) at incredible volume. Such a clash of cultures!!!

Of to work again tomorrow, and so another weekend is gone. I am planning on going to Machu Pichu next weekend, and then not soon after going to Iquitos, JUNGLE, AMAZON JUNGLE….. it doesnt feel real at all. Everything is going wonderfully here, meeting such a good group of people, and truly loving every moment of my time here.

Goodnight for now, thinking of you all.

xxx

Today once again my kindy teacher had to spend the day in the city to go to the doctor, and I was left alone to teach the children. Teach is perhaps a slightly ambitious word. Manage is probably much more descriptive. They are smart little kiddies and know very well that they haev the advantage. There is little more I can do then firmly say No No No, or Cientate (SIT DOWN). The only other trick I really have is to keep throwing activities at them, to keep their very short attention span on ME. Today we started off with puzzles again, but it quickly turned into a puzzle fight more than anything else. I sent them all outside for a quick toilet break while I at the speed of lightning sorted out all the puzzles and put them together again before they returned. If there is one skill that I have been improving, it is my ability to do puzzles….. I know most of the puzzles off by heart now and can do them with impressive speed. They kids returned and no puzzles were in sight. I decided today we would make masks as the morning activity. we cut, coloured and pasted, and I again with much speed fashioned the scraps into masks. We spent the next hour skipping around the classroom wearing our masks while dancing to the beat of native pan flute music I had found in a rusty looking little tapè player. The kids also found some old peruvian flags and they marched around with much pride.

 The afternoon activity was to tackle the headlice that abound in the class. White nits are MOST visible in all the black hair. I had bought some little sachets of nit shampoo, and when i pulled them out the kids all got overly excited. Seconds later I noticed most of the shampoo had disappeared. After searching through pockets and backpacks I recovered most of them, apparently they wanted to take them all home to their families as well. They loved to have their hair shampooed, and lined up eagerly, yet when the time came to wash it all off, they suddenly disappeared or simply refused to allow me to wash it out. With stuttering spanish I explained how bad the chemicals were, but still they could not be swayed. I washed a few kids hair but the rest still had it in their hair when they left for the weekened. I’m crossing my fingers that when i see them tomorrow I wont be greeted with a class of bald kids, otherwise the teacher probably wont trust me alone with them again.

As stressful as working all alone was, I enjoyed following my own plans and rhythm to the day, I still marvel at the fact that 2 weeks into all this im already leading my own class… only in Peru…

Off to Cusco again for the weekend to celebrate a fellow aussie’s birthday….  much fun to be had 😉

xxG

The reason I actually find myself in Peru is mainly because of Projects Abroad, an organisation that helps you find a host family and a work placement. Through this of course you also meet a large group of people also working in the area. There are socials, outings and just evening chocolate con leche (hot chocolates spiced with cinnamon) at the plaza with the local Calca gang. Currently there are 9 of us. But APART from all the social activities, there is of course the working aspect.  

At the moment I am working at a school in el Piste, just a little way up from Calca, about 5 minutes with a mototaxi, or a leisurely stroll up a gentle slope (trust me, not so gentle for me at beginning I might add). I love walking up there early in the morning, slowly picking up a string of students who emerge from their houses and hold onto any part of me they can, my hands are always first to go, then sleeves, elbows, jackets….. on top of this they often also ask me to carry their books. At this point I do manage to get the point across that this will NOT happen. Upwards we march towards the school, a small fenced in area with one large building and a smaller toilet block. I am usually the first ‘teacher’ there and often find myself trying to entertain this group of children in anyway possible. Last time we had a bag of tin cans, we had masses of fun stacking them all up and then destroying our towers, only to start all over again. The teachers usually arrive about half an hour later, the principle on his motorbike and blatantly fake adidas or nike matching track suit. A milk delivery also arrives, and the bucket of fresh milk is then left outside in the sun until recess time, where the kids all fill up their cups with what I imagine to be not so fresh milk by now.

My kindergarten teacher arrives even later, and slowly over the next hour or so the children slowly wander in. There are no mummys or daddys dropping them off, having a quick word with the teacher or giving their child a hug goodbye. These kids, as young as two years old walk themselves to school. A typìcal day begins with lots of puzzles. The kids love puzzles and will do each puzzle with as much enthusiasm as though it was their first time, when really they do the same ones day in and day out. It is really interesting to watch each child´s method of tackling the puzzle, and i think it gives a lot of insight into how they deal with everything else. Some kids patiently find the correct place for each piece while others just push them together any way they can, usually resulting in breaking a few pieces along the way.

In my class of about 15 children (only about 10 turn up on any day) the children range from 2 years old, to two children ages 9 and 10 with special needs. This makes planning activities and such quite a challange, not even taking into account that spanish is almost non existant, also adding to that, even if i could speak fluent spanish I would still be in strife as most of the children speak Quechua, the native indian language of the area….. all in all this combination has already created some interesting misunderstandings and lots of laughter (usually at my expense.)

I love coming to work, to have the rhythm again, and I´m glad I´m doing something usefully. I am currently planning with the teacher to renovate the classroom by putting in a proper floor, and to also create a separate outside play area for the children. This is all possible due to all the generous donations I received before I left.

I have a few more weeks of this placement, then I am off to the jungle for 2 weeks, going up the towns only accessed by boat in the Amazon basin….. I cant wait!!!

Love to you all, send me an email and let me know whats going on at your side of the world

herw0003@flinders.edu.au

xxxx

So it has taken me a week to get this going, something which I should have organised while still in areas of reliable connection… but here it is, the beginnings of a blog.

I set off on my Peruvian adventures exactly a week ago today. It feels like I have been away for weeks, and at the same time, as cliched as it sounds, it feels as though I have hardly left home.

I arrived in Calca, a small town in the Sacred Valley nestled amongst the Andes, about 40 hours after I departed Adelaide in the chilly early hours of the day. It took a while for it to sink in that I was actually following something through which had begun as simply a small idea or dream to distract me from the hours at work and not to mention studying for my first semester of exams at uni. Yet suddenly there I was, flying above a fairytale landscape, so rugged, so raw, so beautiful. The clouds, the mountains, the snow, the towering peaks and the endless canyons. These mountains have been, and hopefully always will remain, completely untouched by humans.

Flying into Cusco was a shock on many levels, especially physically but also mentally. Suddenly, amongst all the untouched serenity, a seeminly endless array of brown mud brick buildings, an airstrip, networks of roads all crowd into eery flat space imaginable in the valley. Even though it is lower than the towering peaks around it, Cusco still has an altitude of about 3500 metres, a height my poor body so accustomed to the mere Adelaide Hills, did not agree with at all.

From Cusco I travelled about 2 hours to Calca, the place that would be, and is, my home for the next 2 months at least. Calca is a loely little town, a little snapshot of peruvian life untouched by tourists. The centre of the town, or the Plaza de Armaz is a lively place. There are motor taxis whizzing around ( a moto is like a motorbike but modified so that it has a little carriage on the back for 2 or 3 passengers. There are benches and a lovely garden, tall trees provide shade from the harsh harsh Andean sun. Street vendors try and sell their wares, stray dogs run around scrounging for any left over morsal, traditionally dressed peruian women, with long braided black hair, leather hats, long skirts and a woven blanket of bright colours carrying their wares, harvest, even one or two small children. Everyone has somewhere to be, some agenda to follow, I often feel out of place just sitting at the plaza with no agenda, nowhere to be other than to savour the moments slipping by.

Outside the plaza, the streets are lined with the same mud brick homes, high walls with only small doors, all padlocked shut. The front of the houses are painted proudly in the stark brilliantly bright colours that South America so well embodies. Behind these walls there are different stories, bedrooms, courtyards, gardens, wash basins, kitchens…. it is impossible to know what kind of life is lived behind them. Sometimes a door is left open, and usually I see a glimpse of a life I would not want to live… dusty smouldering fires, crumbling mud walls, a child wandering around while the mother attempts to do the washing by hand in the little muddy water they do have, maybe a porridge, or more a thick sludge of scraps of salvaged corn and wheat with perhaps a small cup of milk.  Thin, mangy dogs linger behind these doors, guarding the last little scraps of what they do have. I love walking through these streets, imagining what all these people would have to tell if they had the chance.

I am currently staying with a family close to the center of Calca. They are very well off compared to many others. They are educated, the mother is a teacher and the father a principal of a school. The children are beautiful, intelligent girls, they study biology, maths, spanish…. everything their parents feel will help them not end up the way so many do in this valley. We have electricity, hot running water, a television, and so much food I think I am eating twice as much as I ever did back home- so much for me going on a diet….. The food is delicious, cooked lovingly by Delia, a girl living with the family in exchange for helping around the house.

It would be a lie to say that everything at first was perfect and I arrived with no regrets for what I had chosen to do. The alititude was immensly hard on my body, even going for a gentle stroll had me puffed and feeling considerably weakened. I had a constant headache and even though I was beyond tired, I simply could not get to sleep. My first night was horrible, I tossed and turned, my heart punding so loudly and erratically I was rather frightened. My body somehow on top of all this had to adjust to about 15 hours of time difference from australia. I was a wreck, and most likely scared my family a little with the first few phone calls back home. One morning was particularily horrible, my eyes had not closed properly all night and my whole body hurt. I could not stay locked up in room so I decided to go for an early morning walk amd watch the village wake up. While this was a beautiful experience in its own, watching the sun creep up cautiously over the Andes, bringing a tiny amount of warmth and that gentle morning glow, I arrived back home near frozen. I always forget just how cold the valley gets under the shade of the mountains. I felt so ill, like throwing up, fainting, coughing, everythign at once. If someone had given me a ticket and said here get on the plane if you want to, I would have done so straight away. My family gave me strong Mate de Coca, a healing tea everyone drinks up here to aid just about anything, but in particular alititude…. I was told to sniff pure alcohol and also some crushed up leaves of some variety were held under my nose. Slowly as the sun thawed me I realised just how much I needed to get over all my doubts and just live the moments I do have here. Home and everyone there is always waiting for me when I come back. The last few weeks before I left were such a whirlwind of last minute packing, working, and in particularly goodbyes, I can now see how little time I actually gave myself to mentally prepare for where I would end up, thus culture shock and the rest hit me hard. Not being able to communicate properly with people was another struggle, again because the last few weeks before I left I had done nothing but communicate. Suddenly I was left primarily with my own thoughts and the few phrases I could coax out in spanish. Again I found all this rather scary, I never really had the quiet or space to actually just sit there and think, or write in a diary and actually see my thoughts. Basically I hated feeling inadequate on all levels- in particularily physically, but also the whole langauge situation.

Saturday night I did sleep a few hours. This was quite a turning point for me, and that day I went out with some other volunteers to a neighbouring town called Pisac. Much more touristy, we had a ball observing some traditional inca festival and sipping fresh juices. we then decided to climb up the mountain (a brisk hike according to the lonely planet guide) to some inca ruins. As much as I wanted to hike up the mountain, even after the first few steps my lungs were aching and my heart was pounding and there was a point where I just could not push my body anymore. I bowed my head and decided to take a taxi up to the top with another girl. Unfortunatly my spanish skills somehow did not express that I wanted to get to the TOP and we were dropped off halfway. Hello massive climb up ancient Inca terraces. The effort was worth it though, and standing at the peak amongst ancient stone formations, temples worshipping the sun, the earth, the sky and whatever else provided enough incentive for the ancient incas to carve away and modify entire fronts of mountains by hand, was beyond spectacular. I also thoroughly enjoyed speaking to other volunteers from all different walks of life, some studying medicine, some just finishing school… from the states, australia, holland……..

I slept perfectly that night, and from then on everything went along smoothly. I began work in my kindy the next day, as well as spanish lessons, which are helping immensly. I will write more later about my experiences of working at the kindy, but for now I am off to Cusco for the weekend with some people, wish us luck in finding a hostel that actually has all it promises it has e.g a bed.

Thinking of you all lots, would love to hear about all your adventures.

XXXXXXXXX G