Peru: Spanish Intensive and Cultural Immersion

I awoke at 5:35, and lay in bed contemplating if this was indeed the correct day to begin my descent to Machu Picchu.  It was raining, and the mountain roads around Cuzco are notrious for landslides and crippling delays of what I have heard are up to 15 hours.  Alas, eventually  I gathered enough strength to fling the covers off me, and felt the biting chill of an Andean summer morning.

It was not so much raining anymore as I stepped outside, merely threatening mist and clouds that assured me, if they wanted to, could ruin my day.  I ran into Hermando shaving in a basin in the courtyard, and he wished me ¨Bueno suerte¨on my travels as I slipped out the door.

Upon arriving at the bus stop, I was immediately hassled by indepdent mini-van drivers to ride with them, and avoid going to the official bus stand for tickets, which were cheaper, but the trip an hour longer.  After a bit of investigation, I opted, despite my intuition, to take the faster mini-bus towards Machu Picchu.  I now partially regret that decision, as our driver continues to stand outside attempting to lure more people in to fill the remaining two seats, we may not leave until he does.  I was initially impressed with my driver´s neat sweater and well-coifed hairdo, though I should have gazed at his healthy paunch to realize that he was probably angling for his best fare and a guinea-pig dinner.

My initial buyers remorse evaporated once we hit the road.  All of Peru was passing by my window, really for the first time.  We traveled up the mountains and into the mist, along narrow mountain roads that had a steep drop off on one side.  I looked at my driver and realized, ¨A man wearing sweatpants is in control of my life right now.¨Visibility was low in the clouds, and it began to rain.  We passed a truck whose trailer had flipped, exposing its cargo of Coca-Cola, Fanta, and the infamous Inca Cola, a nuclear yellow, banana-flavored soda that is even too sweet for me.  Entire rivers spilled from the crests of mountains into the road, and our driver shifted into first gear before entering each torrential stream.  We made it safely, though I have seen hiking trails in better condition than some parts of the road today.

I am now in the small village of Santa Teresa, a six hour hike to the town nearest Machu Picchu.  Tomorrow is the hike, the day after is the tour of the ruins.  Ciao.

At Fairplay´s most recent Clase de Cocinar, which is essentially a giant dinner party in which the students help prepare the food, I met a fellow traveler who was planning on doing the exact same itinerary into Machu Picchu as I was.  And so it is, I have postponed my Friday classes until Monday, and early tomorrow morning I venture out on the search for a cheaper way into the once thriving city of the Incas.

Every traveler that wants to visit Machu Picchu must go through the city Aguas Calientes, a town only directly traveled to by train.  To avoid the ticket price,  about $40 each way, (the train to MP is monopolized by a British company) seven of us are traveling by bus to Santa Teresa, and hiking for six hours to Aguas Calientes, visiting the ruins the next day.

This scheme of mine to join up with these folks started last night at Clase de Cocinar, where Sam told me of her plans for Friday.  Intrigued, and suggesting I meet her other accomplices, I accompanied her to a kareoke bar after dinner, and met the other five people in the hiking party.  Through poorly rendered versions of Michael Jackson, Simon & Garfunkel, The Beatles, and certain Latin American tunes that I did not recognize, we realized it was a good fit, and thus our cohort has formed.

 Tomorrow morning the adventure begins, I should arrive back to my homestay sometime during dinner on Sunday, where I have been assured a hot plate of food will be waiting for me.  Ciao. 

Sunday marked Hermando´s birthday, who turned 61.  He was joined by his wife, three daughters, four grandchildren, Dutch-Belgian son-in-law, and two foreigners.  All of whom live in the same compound, and happily supported him on his big day. In Peru, the birthday ... [Continue reading this entry]

Volleyball is Peru´s second favorite sport, second only to futbol as the most popular.  And so it was that today, teachers and students got together for a friendly game of volleyball at the local college.  All the teachers were incredibly skilled, ... [Continue reading this entry]

¨What is there in Rome for me to see that others have not seen before me? What is there for me to touch that others have not touched? What is there for me to feel, to learn, to hear, to ... [Continue reading this entry]

An intensive week of classes.    This weekend looks to be full as well, with a teacher and student game of volleyball at the local college tomorrow, and the grandpa of the house´s birthday on ... [Continue reading this entry]

I´m not quite so sure anecdotas is actually a word... but you get the point...  (anecdotes).  Last night eight of my fellow students and I sat around the dining room table and helped prepare chiles stuffed with beef, carrots, potatoes, fried ... [Continue reading this entry]

AT 9:30 my Spanish teacher came to my house to show me how to take the bus to the school.   Extremely crowded, and still clad ïn ¨Feliz Navidad¨ decorations, the trip took about twenty minutes, and cost about a quarter.  ... [Continue reading this entry]

There are over 6800 languages spoken in the world.  Mandarin is the most widespread, with 800 million speakers.  Spanish is number two, with 360 million, and English is third with 350 million speakers.  It has been beneficial for me on this trip ... [Continue reading this entry]