Last night was my first Saturday back in Lima, and I was lost when thinking about what to do. Because I had been traveling for the better part of the last three weeks, I wasn't accustomed to having to think about my plans for the night. I either already planned stuff or I had the option to explore the city/Incan ruins/island in/near/on which I was staying. Sure, I could always just go exploring in Lima, but the city is rather large to just wander aimlessly. Fortunately, a friend of my friend Ashley Shrader (aka: Smashley, Shredder, VIF, and Ash-lady) invited us to go to "Collectivo Circo Band" concert at the La Noche. Mika is her name and studying tuberculosis in jungle monkeys is her proverbial game. She also invited us to her friend's birthday party in San Isidro, the lux neighborhood north of Miraflores (also a lux neighborhood north of Barranco). I immediately (and hopefully not too desperately) agreed to both events, and the next thing I know it's 8:45 and I'm in a taxi with a six-pack of MGD going to "Dan's" birthday soiree. In this taxi are also Amaya (a friend of Mika's, studying HIV on a fellowship), Renee (on the same fellowship as Amaya, but not studying HIV), and Dan (not the birthday Dan and studying to get his MD but primarily at UCLA and one of three Dans I encountered at the party). I was taken aback by the collective academic experience of the group. After about 7 seconds in the taxi, I was also taken aback by an overwhelming sense of being back in the US. Or "US of A" so we have continuity with the title.
Careful readers may explain this feeling by pointing to the fact that I was in a taxi with 4 other Americans. Why shouldn't I have felt like I was in the US? However, I have spent time with Americans several times before in Lima, and I never felt this way before. I know what brought on the feeling, though. The first topic that the group began to discuss was their respective yoga classes. Sure, there are quite a few yoga studios in Lima which are no doubt frequented by more Peruvians than foreigners, but it was the way they were talking about the classes that struck me. I have yet to hear a Peruvian critique a yoga instructor for "giving the class like she had memorized the routine. I didn't feel she was teaching as much as she was reciting the positions." Now don't take this the wrong way, I have no beef with discriminating fitness enthusiasts. Having an opinion and preference makes the world a much more interesting place. That's just not a phrase I have ever heard from any Peruvian. The second topic (after discussing the merits of other yoga studios) was a 30 minute interview with Jon Stewart on the NPR website. Hey, I like Jon Stewart and in the US I listen to NPR (and can name a disproportionate number of the correspondents and anchors) - this topic was right up my alley. But as Renee (it might have been Amaya, I was in the front seat and couldn't see faces and didn't know whose voice belonged to whom) explained how she was laughing out loud (LOL) to Stewart's commentary streaming off the NPR website on her Macbook while having her morning coffee, I couldn't help but think that the image of her doing that was completely at odds with my experience in Peru. Of course Peru has all that technology, but who listens to extended interviews off of public radio websites in the morning? The kicker? When Amaya (it might have been Renee, I was in the front seat and couldn't see faces and didn't know whose voice belonged to whom) asked the group if anyone knew of some good Spanish podcasts. Then I absolutely couldn't help but feel that I was sitting in Intelligentia coffee in Silver Lake or Blue Bottle Coffee in Brooklyn or Stumptown Roasters in Portland with a group of young intellectuals about to debate the ethics of the US partnering with an arguably corrupt Karzai government in Afghanistan.
I bet that an identical intellectual/salon crowd exists in Lima and discusses the latest Slate article just like folks back in the US, but I don't feel that I have been running with that set. My Peruvian friends here would be characterized first and foremost by their passion for whatever they do. I'm sure the Americans in the taxi have passion for life/work/fun/people, but the Limans I've met just care so much. They are also intelligent, tech-savvy, and politically active, but instead of finding them listening to a podcast in the morning or yoga shopping in Miraflores, you will find them traveling to the rain forest, mountain biking in the Pachacamac foothills, or spending an entire Sunday with their family just being a family.
I don't mean to pass judgment on the youth of the US or the youth of Lima. I mostly wanted to talk about this experience because it was a moment when I felt intimately aware of a subtle, yet absolutely personal and relevant, cultural difference. I also felt out of place in that taxi (probably because I hang out much more with Limans than I do Americans, and that taxi was more American than hunting wolves from a helicopter), and that struck me as extremely odd. Why should I feel out of my place with people from my own country, people who, though certainly more involved in academia, are reasonably close to my own profile? Maybe it was just that particular mix of folks that made me feel this way, but it certainly got me thinking about my return to the US. I don't have concerns about reverse culture shock. I know that I will be happy to see friends and family. I just wonder how I am going to view things differently, and how my values will change (if they change at all).
As we were leaving the taxi to go to Dan's (number 2 I believe) apartment, Dan (number 1) said that he would be extremely distraught if he lost his iPod. It was definitely just an offhand, casual comment, but I know that in the US or in Peru I wouldn't really care that much if I lost a music player. I mean really...it's not like it's a great chestnut brown wig.
Also, there are new photos in the Flickr account. I started with 1200 photos from the trip to the south and cut it down to a more manageable 27. If you want to see them all, we'll be having a 7 hour slideshow back in Orinda in December. I'll bring the Lil' Smokies if you bring the Diet Dr. Pepper!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
"Now We're Comin' Home On These Blades of Glory"
When thinking about the content for this entry, I struggled to determine what to include and what to omit. My trip to the south lasted more than two weeks, and I certainly have enough memories to create a Costco-portion account of my activities. But rather than make you all sit through every detail which is riveting to me and no doubt painfully boring to you, I will keep the discussion to my favorite highlights and, since it seems to a theme with this blog, some surprising moments. Let's start things off with a sight I never thought I would see, but boy am I glad I did.
No, I couldn't believe that I had stumbled upon a roof sheep either. The skeptical of you may notice that he is not actually on a roof, and I'll give you that. However, the top of that fence was roughly 10 feet above the ground, so that sheep is either standing on something or has some stems than stretch to next week. Regardless, it's not a sight you see every day, and it was a great way to start the trip. Julie and I discovered this fellow in the town of Cabanaconde, the starting point for our three day hike through the Colca Canyon. We had just flown into Arequipa ("The White City") and spent the night there, and then we had a refreshing 2:45am shuttle to the base-campesque village of Cabanaconde. After talking shop with that impressive sheep we began our hike into the Canyon. This canyon (the second deepest in the world, the deepest is also in Peru) is not only twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, it's less filling! Our first day consisted of a 1200m descent to the riverside village of Llahuar. Was the hike safe? Sort of, but if take a wrong step or slip, you've got a date with some seriously steep and jagged rock faces. You'd also probably eat some cacti on the way down, so needless to say I chose my footing carefully. After 5 hours on the trail Julie and I arrived at Llahuar and enjoyed a warm beer and the company of an overly affectionate Calico. Warm beer?! you ask. Well, Llahuar is just a group of cabanas at the bottom of a canyon with no road access, so you can't always depend on a consistent supply of ice from the Peruvian ice-cutter corps. I tell you what, brother, after a day in the clutches of that cruel canyon a warm beer goes down pretty smooth. We were beat after the first day, and this is only going DOWNHILL mind you. The next two days satisfied the uphill quota of the trip and left us sorer than Alex Rodriguez after Dallas Braden tells him off and then pitches a perfect game. Besides absolutely stunning views and landscapes, we also saw lots and lots of cacti. What we know as the "Prickly Pear" cactus also has a very lucrative purpose here in Peru. Small pustules full of vibrant red dye form on the green paddles on the cactus and can be dried and sold as clothes and cosmetics dye. 100 soles a kilo! I know that may not seem particularly interesting, but the next time you apply your Maybelline lipstick, you should remember that your full, red lips got that way thanks to a humble cactus living in the canyons of Peru.
Let's fast forward to Lake Titicaca. According to our friend Wikipedia, Lake Titicaca, at 12,500 ft, is the highest commercially navigable lake in the world and the most voluminous lake in South America. Given these estimable credentials it was a must visit for Julie and me (read: it was a must visit for me so Julie was forced to tag along. For those of you who are wondering, Julie is a friend from high school who I recently reconnected with in Los Angeles. She is a Doctor of Physical Therapy and an excellent travel partner. Also, mosquitoes do not bite her and instead focus their assault on my legs leaving 20 damn bites in under 10 minutes. You have got to be kidding me, fellas. Give her a little attention at least.). The lake certainly did not disappoint. The sky and the water there are so blue and so clear, it feels like another planet. A blue planet, if you will. We spent one night with a family on Taquile, a small island in the Peruvian, not Bolivian, portion of Lake Titicaca. The residents, all 2,500 of them, subsist mostly by farming potatoes and corn and raising sheep. For the products they cannot grow, they sell extremely finely crafted textiles (knit and woven) made from sheep, alpaca, llama, and synthetic wool. All the men knit, and all the women weave. When a man is courting a lucky Taquilian coed, she will sometimes take one of his knit hats and pour some water in it. If the hat holds water for the requisite amount of time, she knows that he's got chops and would make for an excellent provider. All the hats, sweaters, and other textiles are sold exclusively on the island and give the Taquile residents their only source of income. The island is truly breathtaking, but it's also amazing to see people living so differently than the life I am used to. Our host brother would knit his caps whenever we went anywhere on the island. I asked him what he was doing once we left, he said knitting. I asked him what he was doing the day before we came, he said knitting. Life is certainly simpler (and a lot harder) than that which I know. I also asked my host family if they were annoyed by all the tourists invading their island (primarily on day trips, but also on homestays like ours). Surprisingly, to me at least, they said that they love having the tourists visit because otherwise they wouldn't be able to sell their textiles and buy fresh fruits and vegetables, among other items. I felt a little better about the visit after hearing that, but I still hope that their culture is able to continue without excessive contamination from the outside world. I highly recommend any visitors to Peru visit both Lake Titicaca and Taquile (do a homestay, ask for Delfin!). While this trip held an astounding number of amazing places, Lake Titicaca was definitely one of the most stunning.
En route to Machu Picchu, Julie and I rested up for a few days in the Sacred Valley town of Urubamba. One night we went to a slightly upscale restaurant, El Huacatay (Huacatay is an indigenous herb from the Sacred Valley. Word has it that the Peruvian equivalent of Emeril loves to toss some Huacatay onto his Trucha Frita with an emphatic "Ole!"), where we encountered a Mormon tour group. This experience wouldn't be anything extraordinary, but when the members of the group (all over 70 except for one) began to tell their personal stories I couldn't contain my mirth (mirth containment is usually not a problem for me). The best story came from an elderly gentleman who began his discourse with "If this speech sounds rehearsed, it's because it is." I knew this old timer was about to drop a real gem on us. He then proceeded to explain how he teaches an adult education course down at the learning annex. The topic? Writing your personal history. "In the first class, I bring a hat full of 200 questions or so. Just something to get the brain cranking. I remember one lady pulled out the question 'What do you remember about your wedding dress?' and then she described all the special moments from her wedding day." Keep in mind that Julie and I are at a restaurant in the tiny Peruvian town of Urubamba batting away hungry cats. Of yeah, we were also listening to retired Mormons discuss their hobbies and memories from BYU. You can't make this stuff up.
Machu Picchu is more beautiful than any photo you have seen. There is no view of the ruins that won't impress you. I think the most stunning aspect of the site is not the city itself but rather the surrounding scenery. The site in the Sacred Valley is bordered by extremely steep and tall mountains, and everything is emerald green. Once you see the city perched on a small plateau you wonder how (and why) anyone ever made such an elaborate settlement there.
I won't ramble on (Led Zeppelin) about the picturesqueness (that somehow made it past spell check) of Machu Picchu. I'd rather talk about the llamas of Machu Picchu (LOMP). I was really curious how the LOMPs ended up at the ruins, and it turns out that they were put their to please the tourists - llamas actually prefer higher altitudes. Well they certainly succeeded in pleasing this tourist. I looked at, took pictures of, hugged, pet, gazed at, flirted with, and loved the LOMPs. Were they the highlight of my Machu Picchu experience? Well the Temple of the Three Windows certainly wasn't, I tell you that much! Also, if you make it down to this wonder of the world, make sure to bring some potent insect repellent. The mosquitoes and sand flies there are merciless, except to Julie of course.
So now I am back in the big city, ready to make some headway in a green space policy recommendation for the newly elected mayor of Lima, Susan Villaran. No big deal, right? You probably remember my frustration with the mayoral elections, and I am overjoyed that they are finally over. No more despicable posters littering this fair city and obscuring my view of the noble roof dogs. I'll try to get back to my usual schedule of a post every 2 or 3 days, and no, they won't be any more grounded in fact or reality. I hope everyone is doing well in your respective part of the world, and I look forward to seeing you all very soon in December.
No, I couldn't believe that I had stumbled upon a roof sheep either. The skeptical of you may notice that he is not actually on a roof, and I'll give you that. However, the top of that fence was roughly 10 feet above the ground, so that sheep is either standing on something or has some stems than stretch to next week. Regardless, it's not a sight you see every day, and it was a great way to start the trip. Julie and I discovered this fellow in the town of Cabanaconde, the starting point for our three day hike through the Colca Canyon. We had just flown into Arequipa ("The White City") and spent the night there, and then we had a refreshing 2:45am shuttle to the base-campesque village of Cabanaconde. After talking shop with that impressive sheep we began our hike into the Canyon. This canyon (the second deepest in the world, the deepest is also in Peru) is not only twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, it's less filling! Our first day consisted of a 1200m descent to the riverside village of Llahuar. Was the hike safe? Sort of, but if take a wrong step or slip, you've got a date with some seriously steep and jagged rock faces. You'd also probably eat some cacti on the way down, so needless to say I chose my footing carefully. After 5 hours on the trail Julie and I arrived at Llahuar and enjoyed a warm beer and the company of an overly affectionate Calico. Warm beer?! you ask. Well, Llahuar is just a group of cabanas at the bottom of a canyon with no road access, so you can't always depend on a consistent supply of ice from the Peruvian ice-cutter corps. I tell you what, brother, after a day in the clutches of that cruel canyon a warm beer goes down pretty smooth. We were beat after the first day, and this is only going DOWNHILL mind you. The next two days satisfied the uphill quota of the trip and left us sorer than Alex Rodriguez after Dallas Braden tells him off and then pitches a perfect game. Besides absolutely stunning views and landscapes, we also saw lots and lots of cacti. What we know as the "Prickly Pear" cactus also has a very lucrative purpose here in Peru. Small pustules full of vibrant red dye form on the green paddles on the cactus and can be dried and sold as clothes and cosmetics dye. 100 soles a kilo! I know that may not seem particularly interesting, but the next time you apply your Maybelline lipstick, you should remember that your full, red lips got that way thanks to a humble cactus living in the canyons of Peru.
Let's fast forward to Lake Titicaca. According to our friend Wikipedia, Lake Titicaca, at 12,500 ft, is the highest commercially navigable lake in the world and the most voluminous lake in South America. Given these estimable credentials it was a must visit for Julie and me (read: it was a must visit for me so Julie was forced to tag along. For those of you who are wondering, Julie is a friend from high school who I recently reconnected with in Los Angeles. She is a Doctor of Physical Therapy and an excellent travel partner. Also, mosquitoes do not bite her and instead focus their assault on my legs leaving 20 damn bites in under 10 minutes. You have got to be kidding me, fellas. Give her a little attention at least.). The lake certainly did not disappoint. The sky and the water there are so blue and so clear, it feels like another planet. A blue planet, if you will. We spent one night with a family on Taquile, a small island in the Peruvian, not Bolivian, portion of Lake Titicaca. The residents, all 2,500 of them, subsist mostly by farming potatoes and corn and raising sheep. For the products they cannot grow, they sell extremely finely crafted textiles (knit and woven) made from sheep, alpaca, llama, and synthetic wool. All the men knit, and all the women weave. When a man is courting a lucky Taquilian coed, she will sometimes take one of his knit hats and pour some water in it. If the hat holds water for the requisite amount of time, she knows that he's got chops and would make for an excellent provider. All the hats, sweaters, and other textiles are sold exclusively on the island and give the Taquile residents their only source of income. The island is truly breathtaking, but it's also amazing to see people living so differently than the life I am used to. Our host brother would knit his caps whenever we went anywhere on the island. I asked him what he was doing once we left, he said knitting. I asked him what he was doing the day before we came, he said knitting. Life is certainly simpler (and a lot harder) than that which I know. I also asked my host family if they were annoyed by all the tourists invading their island (primarily on day trips, but also on homestays like ours). Surprisingly, to me at least, they said that they love having the tourists visit because otherwise they wouldn't be able to sell their textiles and buy fresh fruits and vegetables, among other items. I felt a little better about the visit after hearing that, but I still hope that their culture is able to continue without excessive contamination from the outside world. I highly recommend any visitors to Peru visit both Lake Titicaca and Taquile (do a homestay, ask for Delfin!). While this trip held an astounding number of amazing places, Lake Titicaca was definitely one of the most stunning.
En route to Machu Picchu, Julie and I rested up for a few days in the Sacred Valley town of Urubamba. One night we went to a slightly upscale restaurant, El Huacatay (Huacatay is an indigenous herb from the Sacred Valley. Word has it that the Peruvian equivalent of Emeril loves to toss some Huacatay onto his Trucha Frita with an emphatic "Ole!"), where we encountered a Mormon tour group. This experience wouldn't be anything extraordinary, but when the members of the group (all over 70 except for one) began to tell their personal stories I couldn't contain my mirth (mirth containment is usually not a problem for me). The best story came from an elderly gentleman who began his discourse with "If this speech sounds rehearsed, it's because it is." I knew this old timer was about to drop a real gem on us. He then proceeded to explain how he teaches an adult education course down at the learning annex. The topic? Writing your personal history. "In the first class, I bring a hat full of 200 questions or so. Just something to get the brain cranking. I remember one lady pulled out the question 'What do you remember about your wedding dress?' and then she described all the special moments from her wedding day." Keep in mind that Julie and I are at a restaurant in the tiny Peruvian town of Urubamba batting away hungry cats. Of yeah, we were also listening to retired Mormons discuss their hobbies and memories from BYU. You can't make this stuff up.
Machu Picchu is more beautiful than any photo you have seen. There is no view of the ruins that won't impress you. I think the most stunning aspect of the site is not the city itself but rather the surrounding scenery. The site in the Sacred Valley is bordered by extremely steep and tall mountains, and everything is emerald green. Once you see the city perched on a small plateau you wonder how (and why) anyone ever made such an elaborate settlement there.
I won't ramble on (Led Zeppelin) about the picturesqueness (that somehow made it past spell check) of Machu Picchu. I'd rather talk about the llamas of Machu Picchu (LOMP). I was really curious how the LOMPs ended up at the ruins, and it turns out that they were put their to please the tourists - llamas actually prefer higher altitudes. Well they certainly succeeded in pleasing this tourist. I looked at, took pictures of, hugged, pet, gazed at, flirted with, and loved the LOMPs. Were they the highlight of my Machu Picchu experience? Well the Temple of the Three Windows certainly wasn't, I tell you that much! Also, if you make it down to this wonder of the world, make sure to bring some potent insect repellent. The mosquitoes and sand flies there are merciless, except to Julie of course.
So now I am back in the big city, ready to make some headway in a green space policy recommendation for the newly elected mayor of Lima, Susan Villaran. No big deal, right? You probably remember my frustration with the mayoral elections, and I am overjoyed that they are finally over. No more despicable posters littering this fair city and obscuring my view of the noble roof dogs. I'll try to get back to my usual schedule of a post every 2 or 3 days, and no, they won't be any more grounded in fact or reality. I hope everyone is doing well in your respective part of the world, and I look forward to seeing you all very soon in December.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Out of the Office, Into the....Fire....of....hmm.... Outdoor Adventures?
For everyone who keeps hitting the refresh button every 14 seconds looking for an update to the blog, I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow marks Day 1 of my trip to the south of Peru (Arequipa, Lake Titicaca, Cusco, Machu, Picchu, etc.). Chances are I won't write any entries during this period (until at least October 14th), so you'll have to turn to other outlets for your semi-daily dose of roof dogs (I saw a trifecta yesterday and didn't have my camera! I'll be beating myself up for weeks about that SNAFU), seemingly nonexistent wig shops, and that minimal sprinkling of real, factual information about something. I hope everoney has a great start to their October!
See ya real soon kids!
Andrew
See ya real soon kids!
Andrew
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