6.12.2008

Pictures from Peru

I haven't had time to add captions, it took me hours just to sort through the thousands and narrow it down to 372. Goodness. Too many pictures! Oh well.

Here's the link--
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=acmyf9d.9skohrol&x=1&y=-r6b77e&localeid=en_US

6.06.2008

Final Thoughts - Back in the USSA


On the plane from Panama City to Houston, the passenger next to me said 'gracias' as the stewardess handed him his drink -- and it occurred to me that that would be one of the last times I heard Spanish for awhile.

Odd. I was so used to being a stranger in a strange land. I was starting to get used to living in my own little world where nobody understood me, and vice versa. I can only imagine what Helen Keller must've felt like. I still had eyes to see with, ears to hear with (even if they weren't hearing sounds they understood), and a voice to attempt communication with.

My last week in Peru was filled with overnight bus rides and a wicked case of Montezuma's revenge, thanks to an ill-advised beef patty (for lack of a more descriptive or knowedgeable term - it could've been an anything-patty) on a bus from Mancora to Trujillo. I suppose I should've been a little wary when I saw her pull the containers from an overhead bin, instead of a REFRIGERATOR or OVEN. I don't think meat does that well between 40 and 160 degrees. Tends to Fester. Create stomach aches.

I had this very amusing story created in my head about my experience riding overnight buses while trying to keep your pants clean -- but now it just seems gross instead of funny. Let's just say.... it was a struggle to keep the pants clean! And leave it at that.

So many things happened each day -- new and interesting things -- that it would've taken an hour or so each day to fully capture everything that was running through my mind. It was a frenetic pace, and I think I just gave up after awhile. Just sat back and let the experience run its course. Without feeling obligated to capture it, describe it, pin it down. So apologies to this blog for what I feel was a pretty half ass and incomplete job of doing the experience justice. There were just too many experiences.

I was thinking about some of them. The afternoon with Jorge the surf instructor. I vividly remember leaning back against a window sill, sipping a cold beer (cold beer - what a luxury!), looking out at the sunny shimmering water, watching waves roll in on a picture perfect absolutely gorgeous day -- thinking to myself 'this is paradise'. What more could you want?

So I ask Jorge 'is this what you do every day?' Hang out here, give a few surf lessons which you love doing anyway? Eat a little something when you get hungry, then head home and relax, come back and do it again the next day? This is paradise!
He smiles and says yes, then goes back to lazily looking out at the horizon.

I spent more time with Jorge, we went out to a bar, and he quite meekly asks if I could pay for everything since he didn't have any money. He didn't have any money because he hadn't given a lesson that day. There is no such thing as a bank account, or savings, for most Peruvians. 50% of all Peruvians live in poverty. It's a day to day existence. A subsistence existence.

Jorge was very interested in my camera. In fact, he had it most of the time. I wasn't worried about it, but I had to keep asking for it back when I wanted to take a picture.
He also helped me find a hostel, and so knew where I was staying, and came knocking on my door early the next morning. He invited himself in, then saw my ipod charging on the bed and grabbed that, started using it, declared that he was going to borrow it for the day until we went surfing.

I said absolutely not, and he left in a huff. But not before pleading for 5 Soles for food since he was hungry. At that point I had had enough of Jorge. He did make off with one of my shirts, but of the two -- ipod or shirt -- I'm glad it ended up being the latter.

As I thought about it more, I put myself in Jorge's shoes. He was clearly envious of me, of my lifestyle, of my things. He made more than one comment about it. It was interesting -- me so very impressed and envious of his simple life in paradise, and him so envious of my more material life of cameras and ipods and money to do things with.
I think it came down to the money. He didn't have any. He was stuck in Huacachina whether he liked it or not. There was hardly money to buy food, let alone a bus ticket to another city. I guess you end becoming jaded when CHOICE is taken away from you. When you're continuously subjected to people passing through that DO have a choice. I suppose I would be envious too. Maybe even jaded.
I felt for Jorge. And I ran into that a lot -- I gave up asking people if they had been to such and such a place. They hadn't. They hadn't even been to the next town over. I was in Arequipa and asked the woman at the hostel if she had been to Cusco, which was relatively nearby and a pretty famous large city. She sheepishly said no, as if she was embarrassed to admit it.

I guess my point is -- most Peruvians don't have a choice. They do what they do, what they can, to get by -- and that's it. There is no innovation, no continuing education (except for a very select few), no 'career'. You are a taxi driver, or a roadside seller of water and cookies, or a restaurant worker, or a tour guide, or...
I couldn't figure out what the best jobs were.
I suppose it's relative.

Even my Inca Jungle tour guide -- I was thinking 'wow, this is a pretty cool job. You get to ride bikes and hike around in the wilderness for a living.' But then he hikes the exact same loop every 4 days. The exact same! While trying to make it interesting for the new group who is eager and excited at the newness.
And here we have the Inca Trail -- exciting! Even though he's walked it 167 times before.

Anyway, my experience in Peru was an unforgettable one. It taught me a lot, and I continue to reflect on it as I ease my way back into this very comfortable and convenient existence we lead in the USA. Roads, bridges, buses, clean water, clean air, nice streets, grass instead of sand, healthy dogs that are actually owned and taken care of by someone, a varied landscape, a plethora of jobs and opportunity, movies in our own language (I found this fascinating -- can you imagine going to the movies and having every single movie be in subtitles? Because that's exactly what happens. Most movies are created by Hollywood and Hollywood speaks English), refrigerated drinks, AIR CONDITIONING!, hot water for showers (I don't care how hot it is outside, it is still shocking to step into a stream of 40 degree water), and the list goes on.

The cars in Peru... I think they must have the opposite of emissions controls. There's is a free-for-all of carbon monoxide and soot and whatever else creates exhaust so pungent it makes you physically react. You know how when a woman walks by with so much perfume on your head physically moves back a little in response to it? That's every city in Peru. Every woman (car) has too much perfume on. It leaves you gasping for clean air.

And money... it's peculiar. Without fail, every single ATM in the country only offers you multiples of 100, and then dispenses 100 Sole bills to whatever multiple you choose. The only problem here, is that no one accepts 100 Sole bills! I mean NO ONE. People avoid them like the plague. They even avoid 50s and 20s, most vendors will only accept 10s at the most.

I was at an internet cafe and went to pay using a 10 -- and the woman had to run next door to get change. Change for a 10!
It makes absolutely no sense. Why have 100 Sole bills if nobody accepts them? And why not have ATMs dispense bills that people can actually use, instead of creating this game of 'how do I break this large unusable bill' each time you take money out?
Maybe there is a secret that everyone else knows and I don't. Maybe everyone else has a way to get small bills somehow.

And, the 2 Sole coin looks EXACTLY like the 5 Sole coin, only it's 2 micromillimeters smaller, hardly detectable to the naked eye. So you need to look at the number.

Also, Peruvians are fiercely skeptical of their money supply! They think every single bill and coin is a counterfeit. They must've had problems with this in the past. They hold every bill up to the light, wave it around a little bit, run it through their fingers, lick it to make sure it tastes right -- just kidding. But man, it's exhausting.

What else... a few other tidbits I had written down.

When people ask what my name is - como te llamas - I used to say Andy. But when I say Andy they say Eddie, so now I say Ahndeee, and they say oooooh Ahndeeee -- and understand. I don't think Andy exists to Spanish speakers. It's either Ahndeee or Eddie.

There's so much more, but I have to pack. I'm flying back to Rochester today for a few weeks before moving up to Oregon. I'll have to continue later...

6.03.2008

Puerto Chicama

Well, I´m in Puerto Chicama. They are supposed to have one of the longest waves in the world here, but the ocean has been calm the past two days -- so I´ve just been taking it easy, recovering from some moderate food poisoning obtained on a bus ride back from Mancora.

I slept a solid 18 hours yesterday, listening to gentle ocean waves crash onto the beach outside the hostel on a cliff overlooking the ocean.

I need to catch a bus back to Trujillo today, to catch another bus back to Lima tonight, to catch a 5:33am flight on Thursday.

I am ready for home. As amazing as this trip has been, I think I´ve seen one too many lonely mangy hungry beat up dogs curled up on the side of the road after a day of digging through trash piles. And I´ve had one too many ´conversations´where people just look at me funny.
And, before I sound too much like I haven´t loved this trip, I will stop typing.

It´s just been a rough past few days.

Anyway, I am off for buses to buses!

I hope everyone is well.