I Predict a Riot..

There´s never a dull moment in Peru. Just when I thought I had gotten over the culture shock, (I´m not fazed by the sight of alpacas meandering in and out of traffic and children not knowing about hand washing seems normal, then I try and go to work this morning. I have killed my cold off and was raring to go. Myself and 2 American buddies were surprised when the first Combi passed us packed to the gills. So packed that they didn´t allow any more people on, which in Combi terms is equivalent to squeezing the contents of a double decker bus into a Mini. When the next two passed, similarly full we smelt a rat. Then they stopped coming at all. We debated briefly about getting a taxi but our query of "Ultimo parada for Santa Ana Combi?" drew a blank face from a taxi man so we elected to wait patiently. After half an hour out of the blue we found ourselves spectators to a student protest. Out of nowhere about 50-60 young kids marched on the streets banging a steel drum and shouting. A stray bus happened to be going past and they immediately set upon it kicking the doors and threw a brick in the back window until it turned around. Then they merrily set upon another one, smiling all the time as if they were going to a rock concert. My American friends wished they had cameras, ("Dude this is awsome!")I was glad they didn´t as three westerners stuck out enough in the area we live in. Local people stood curiously but unworried outside their shops watching the morning entertainment. There were no sign of the police, except for one guy who ran past twice holding what seemed to be a small rocket launcher, looking like Wiley Cyotoe realising the Road Runner had duped him again. We made our way to the Volunteer centre and found out that the protest was against the increasing cost of services and the combis were supposed to be on strike so we had the morning off. (The cost of a Combi ride is about 15 cents). As we walked back home, the main street was blocked off and I heard a voice through a loudspeaker getting louder and louder. Expecting to see a wall of police shouting instructions, I turned and instead an elderly man cycled slowly past me, a barrow of papayas and oranges in front, with a loudspeaker hoisted precariously high above the handlebars advertising his wares. Strange but true.

Sacred Valley Part 11

 
 
 
 

Sacred Valley - Views, markets and People

 
 
 
 

Snuffle

I´ve inhaled most of Cusco´s dust and pollution over the past week or so, not to mention cement and lethal paint fumes, so it´s no surprise that I have a upper respiratory tract infection. So far not so bad but I´m dosing myself with paracetamol and Vitamin C and have discovered that you can get Penicillin over the counter, just in case. I´m not a hypochondriac but I everyone in the house where I´m staying (AKA The Big Brother House)are coming down with either chest infections or crazy gut problems. After lunch I spent a pleasant hour googling Salmonella and Giardia which one of the girls have been diagnosed with. My trusty 90% Alcohol hand cleanser which travels everywhere with me is being truely tested.

Beep! Beep!

I´m here a week now and I´ve got my head around the culture pretty well. You kiss on one cheek to greet people, never refuse food if it´s offered to you and bargain hard with the market sellers. The one thing that escapes me though is what the hell the rules of the road are. It would be wrong to say there are no rules. There is definitely a system. To cross a juntion you pause, blow the horn and put the foot down kamikaze style regardless of what´s going on in the other streets. There are policemen at junctions blowing whistles randomly and cars play chicken to determine who gets into the right lane. How you know where the lane is and where it goes to is probably a Cuscuen secret that gets passed down from generation to generation at a coming of age cermony. The cars themselves remind me of the lego cars I use to build when I was young. They have no brand names and boot around the place merrily, held together by bits of baler twine and stickyback tape. I feel like I´m in Noddy episode when I get into a cab as we dodge dogs, kids and tourists, a mushroom cloud of smoke billowing behind and somehow getting to where I need to go without any major mishap. In fact the two most startling taxi episodes of my stay happened to me yesterday: one taxi driver asked me to put on a seat belt and the second actually indicated before making a right turn. Freaky.

Help The Aged..

Yesterday I spent my 35th birthday in Cusco. It´s too hard to write down exactly how my day was: more plastering in the morning interspersed with playing with the kids who attend the school. They are all between 4- 13 years and starved for attention, so when a few gringos are persuaded to play piggy back they act like all their Birthdays have come at once; to the point where you have to physically detach them from your legs when trying to go home. As the project involves building a toilet block, when current facility involves taking a walk to find a bush and I have to say one of the nice things about this project is the spectacular view of the Peruvian moutains rolling out in splendid silence in front of me as I spend a penny. The kids dont bother taking the walk and just pee away happily in the yard where they play, so you have to keep your wits about you when walking around. In the evening I was delighted, embarrassed and extremeley touched by the generosity of the Peruvian students who went to the trouble of cooking a traditional meal for the whole class in honour of my birthday. The project coordinator dropped over a chocolate cake and I had the best Birthday meal I can remember in a long, long time. The woman who cooked gave me a pair of earring s which remain my only present, and one I´ll treasure as it came from someone who really has nothing to give away. We wrapped up the night by going for a few beers and sneaky sambuca shot in a tourist bar and I´m struggling with the contrast of the easy lifestyle of the Plaza des Armas , bars, restaurants rich tourists, and the broken down shacks I see on the way to work every day just a few blocks away.

Bathrooms and Classrooms

I´m taking multi-tasking to a new level - must be the altitude that´s inspiring me to new heights. Today I got up at half seven to go to a school to build a bathroom. By noon I had learnt about cement, how to plaster and why you have to water the bricks to help them set properly. I caught a combi (kind of a Hiace van/bus thats seats 12 but squeezed in at least 30 people today) back to Cusco and did a crash course in TEFL, got totally inspired and want to do the certification and travel the world teaching english as my new career. Then it was time to go to my Street Kids project to assist in teaching classes from 6.30 - 9.30pm. It´s 10pm now and I´m wondering if there´s a street that needs to be cleaned somewhere or a blind man I could help cross the road....

Planes Trains and Automobiles

Four planes, two hotels, one lost rucksack later and I´m here in Cusco the heart of the Inca Empire and the highest city in the world. My head is a bit befuddled from the altitude and days of airplane food so I haven´t taken much in yet. From what I can make out it´s dusty and tucked away in the middle of some spectacular mountains, so much so that as we flew in I thought we´d need our cranpons to collect the luggage. The population seems to be 50:50 locals to tourists. The locals are severly friendly and man or woman wouldn´t look out of place in the midfield at Old Trafford. Communication so far is ok. When I ask "¿Habla Ingles?" they understand and usually answer a modest "A little" then proceed to speak fluently. When I tell them I only have a little Sapnish, I mean it. I made the rookie error of asking the driver a question in Español last night, HIs face lit up and spoke at length unil I had to confess I hadn´t a notion what he said and only knew 20 words in Spanish, ten of which are numbers. I could feel the disappointment and hear him thinking "Bloody Gringo!" The tourist half of the population are easy to spot, clutching Lonely Planet Guides, wearing light weight fleeces, hiking boots and those walking trousers that zip into shorts. I´m pleased to say I blend right in. In fact as I´ve been in the same clothes since Friday (missing rucksack mentioned at the start, keep up)I probably look like I´ve just come off the Inca trail.

Packing Up Is Hard To Do

Today I resurrected my green rucksack out of the retirement it’s been enjoying underneath my bed for the past ten years. (It’s not just been under the bed gathering dust all that time; it has been used for the odd holiday in case I’m painting a bad picture of the state of our bedroom). It’s still holding up, although one of the zips needs a bit of repair and the oil stains on the front are a souvenir of a truck ride in Northern Thailand in 1998 where it battled for space on the roof with 6 men, 10 chickens, a couple of machetes and a toaster. (The battle me and my friend had for a seat inside the truck is a story for another blog; lets just say the backpack ended up a little oily, we were a little bruised and we all got to where we needed to be many hours later.)
The world has changed since I went around the world a decade ago – there were no mobiles, no Internet banking or Trip Advisor. I wrote real letters and gave people actual gifts as opposed to ones through Face book. It’s a miracle anyone went travelling at all. In 2008 the Internet has facilitated all my plans but also fuelled some of my paranoia. In 1998 the map of the world held no fears just opportunities. I’m excited but also wary about South America, the volunteering, and all the things that could go wrong. Not only do I have Plan B in case of mishap, but Plan C and D as well. I’m not sure when it happened but I seem to haven grown older and more cautious without realising it. I suppose it had to happen one day.
Regardless of my caution, I’m very excited. This travel plan has been cooking since this time last year, started to come together in the New Year and been polished and finalised the past 6 weeks while I’ve enjoyed being workless. Despite all this time, a day before I fly, I still find myself in a small frenzy and tired from a busy week finalising things and saying goodbyes. I can’t wait to get on the plane tomorrow to stop anticipating and start experiencing. I wonder what lies ahead?