Peru and Beyond- finding my way around South America

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.

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