Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Dawn

Its a beautiful morning here. No one is up except the cooks and the birds. Its still a little blue, the air, from the night, and has a
tiny bit of moisture in it, which for this climate is damp. Its a chilly 50 degrees and the normally accessible razor dry peaks are
hidden by wet clouds. A tiny split in the clouds showed the tip of the mountain, and it was glistening pink. Covered in frost and hit by sunrise, it looked like a little piece of heaven.

Monday, June 29, 2009

The Next Chapter: Clinica Lamay

Urubamba is a dusty road deep in a gully formed by the jagged but earthy Andes mountains. At the end of the road is a gate, and it opens to a little piece of paradise which we now inhabit.

This morning at 6:30am I met Edwin, the proprietor of the hotel, Guido, the Mayor of Lamay, and Gonzalo, a young friend of the Peruvian doctor who is sponsoring us, as we all stood outside the arrival gate at Cusco airport waiting for the group to arrive. We cheered as everyone stumbled one after another into the bright Andean sunlight, and straight away we loaded up the three vans and were off for Urubamba. I rode with Jackie and heard a little about the adventures. Everyone got through security with no problems until the last person, Matt, who had brought an extra box of supplies. They opened it, and demanded a letter of proof that this was done with the approval of the Peruvian government, which they produced (if fact, a packet from the consulate, NGOs, etc, that they painstakingly put together). Then security demanded an itemize list of what was in the box, which Matt amazingly had (it was the only box for which such a list existed). After looking through everything, and hearing that the whole group was part of this medical team, they looked over the group and said, any other medical supplies in the group that we need to go through? -- Stunned silence at the thought of not having lists for everything and having everything confiscated – And then innocent Alida pipes up and says, "in those bags? Just clothes" She smiled. Doctors need clothes you know. They waived everyone through with everything intact.

Everyone was tired after traveling for so long. Even I was tired, which I am aware is ridiculous, but last night I was up the whole night reviewing the chapter in my life that had just past and thinking forward to the new one. Like a whole night of turning the page. So we declared 2 hours of rest, snacks, and showers, and time to take in our surroundings. The hotel is beautiful. It is on a little piece of property that is green – so green – compared with the surroundings. A place of exotic flowers and butterflies and hummingbirds. A place which, speaking of energy, is at once tranquil and brimming with natural life. We students have four to a large room, comfortably, and our own little hut area with a large sunlit porch overlooking the mountains. We were met by the local tea and indeed a three-course free lunch specially to honor our coming.

It is incredible that such important people would take the entire day to pick us up, drive us around, entertain and teach us. Mayor Guido is an austere man, dressed very professionally, but entirely committed to his town. Lamay is lucky to have him because from what I have seen he is a true civil servant, working tirelessly to use his political favor to help his people. He built the clinic using local money, and clearly thought through every nuance, thinking progressively for room and resources to grow (will explain more later). Everywhere are signs of his careful improvement of the town. Water evaluations, a new children's swimming pool, a new ambulance. He is a professor of social science, and one can easily see that for him, it is not just theory, it is the workings of life.

Senor Edwin, the hotel owner, is a man out of a fiction novel. Friendly, kind, with an easy smile, he is a family man, telling us about his five children from age 1.5yrs to 30yrs and introducing his wife proudly during lunch. But as we drove up to Lamay, the depth of his character was revealed. I had thought that he was from Lamay which explained his connection and willingness to donate his own money and time to the town, but he is not, he is from Cusco. In fact I found out that Lamay is not the only town he does this for. There are at least three or four others in which he sponsors lunches at schools to feed the children who walk miles into school, that he donates time and money to improve poor towns all over Peru, and why? He doesnt answer, he just smiles a little. Its because it makes him happy to give back. Because he is a generous spirit who hurts to see a hungry child. Because he knows he was blessed with small success in life and needs to spread it over his people. Edwin does this because its the right thing to do in and of itself, with no need to advertise it or use it for secondary gain. Incredible. In addition he, like many from Cusco, is deeply connected with his Incan roots, and he runs his hotel here with traditional values. He knows everyone in the area and treats each with dignity because he appreciates the Incan value of community. He grows fruit trees and coca and coffee and maize on the property, all naturally with no pesticides, because of a deep connection with the earth and a respect for nature. As we drive through the countryside he shows me the rivers that come from the nearby glacier, their names and their routes to join the Amazon River. The water systems and city layouts, the history and the Incan stories, all of it he explains by heart. He is a man with a big heart that he wears on his sleeve, and Guido saw it and brought him to Lamay.

So here we all are. Living in Edwins hotel with the flowers and the butterflies, ready to roll up our sleeves and help Lamay in whatever way we can.

And thats a whole different story. To explain what we learned in the two hours at Clinica Lamay is very difficult. It would involve knowing a whole backdrop of expectations that were quickly shifted. But in short, the clinic is very big and clean staffed by one doctor, one nurse, one dentist, and a gentleman named Mario who dispenses the meds in the pharmacy. The clinic building is built for the big-time; a lead-lined room for x-rays (no x-ray machine), an OR (with no lights or equipment), a birthing room with a baby-warmer (proudly displayed as the piece de resistance since there are only a few in Peru), and so on. The problem as it seems to be, is that Guido managed to raise the funds for this and put it together, but the government created hoops to jump through in order to get government staffing and funding for a clinic. Among them, a microscope of their very own, and an ultrasound machine; they are getting together a list of the rest. So

Part I of their hopes for our participation is to see if we can help get them fitted with the missing pieces that will allow them to work with the Federal government and be self-sustaining.

Part II is to help the clinic gain the confidence of those not only in Lamay, but the thousands of underserved who live in the deep rural mountains and receive no medical care at all.

People dont come for a number of reasons beyond just monetary. They use herbs and traditional Incan remedies instead, plus they have been to the clinic once before, know the only services and meds offered are basic, and feel they need more help than the clinic can provide. This is what Mayor Guido is trying to change with our help. The idea that specialists come – and ones from the US no less – will instill a new confidence in the clinic as it grows slowly on its own. It will be credible, and so used by the target population. As part of that they have been broadcasting our coming on the radio, complete with which specialties will be here when, and the rate (2 sol if you can afford it, free if not). Its funny, in Cusco in the past month quite a number of people said to me, oh yeah, I know about your Lamay clinic, and I thought to myself, Im sure theyre thinking of something else, but now I realize that we were on the radio, and people know.

So here we are. In a post so long that I cant imagine anyone getting to the end of it. Alida and I are sitting in the silence of the stars, drinking coca matte and writing. This is only Day 1 of the chapter, and we have learned so much already. Tomorrow is scheduled a transportation strike that might prevent our working, but we'll see if it goes through. Until then.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Drumbeats and spirits

I wasnt sure what to write about but then I got interrupted with the offer of chocolate ice cream cake (this is why Im gaining so much weight here) and lured downstairs. I didnt want to be social but I wanted the ice cream, so I sat with Carmen, the new girl from Chile, who I found out it the boss of ECELA and trying to make the school here come alive. She was with as well one of the schools housemoms and we got in a discussion about why the Cusco school is doing so much worse than the others. We have like 5 students here, other locations have like 50, 80, or 100 even. Then Carmen said, Ive been meaning to ask you, Ygor told me that there is a ghost in this house. Do you still think so, because that would be one problem to deal with here? They took it so seriously, its as real a threat to the school as poor organization or bad PR. So I explained about the noises and the feeling I had of weird energy since I came to the house, and they listened like this was a totally normal conversation. And when I finished Judi, the housemom, said it sound like Presences but not a ghost. She told us how the Incas didnt have graveyards like we do, instead they buried their dead under the house where they could be near the family. So all of these old houses have many many bones under them and people who can feel energies sense the presence of the dead. Ghosts are an issue requiring shamans, but Presences are a fact of life in Cusco requiring occasional admonishment ("quiet down there, Im not dealing with you"). They also told me about the Incan traditions of human sacrifice, which when I ask tour guides and others, I am told is pretty much a myth. But oral tradition here has it that it was relatively common. I believe that it was as the people say and not as the tourguides represent it. Like, when we went to the Temple of the Moon which is a hidden cave within a mountain. And there was a sort of skylight in the ceiling of the cave through which a full moon would shine one a month, lighting up a smooth, round alter to the moon. Even when we were there (the day of a full moon) it was in use with coca leaves and voodoo dolls and animal hair. Ygor told us only plant sacrifices were given there; maize, coca, quinoa, and occasionally birds or even a llama. But I felt otherwise. It felt, not sacred per se, but filled with the pagan energy that permeates this place. It felt like warm blood and moonbeams and the beat of a deep drum. Judi tonight brought that as an example of places where humans were regularly sacrificed; often the virgins of the moon (since in all traditions, the moon is a feminine body, it was served by women here). This place is so full of mystical energy, even the most slightly open person is affected by it. Its interesting, in the same breath that people refer to their local Catholic father, they speak about Pachamac, the great spirit encompassing the three regions that roughly correlate to heaven (the condor), earth (the puma), and the underworld (the snake). It is interesting that even in pagan cultures there is a thread of Monotheism as well. Im coming to understand this theology, and it is really very rich and much more complex than the popular image of primitive paganism.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Daily Life

Its starting to be a place I live instead of a vacation. I run into people I know on the street, I know which vendors to shop at and who will give me false coins for change, I know how much to pay for things and where to find safe taxis, I speak the language. I stopped carrying my camera everywhere and parades are fun but also represent a road block to my destination. I feel safe. When people strike, I ask them why instead of running, I dont ask the police for anything. I carry my flashlight for when the sun sets but can walk around alone until 9:30 or so since people are out en masse until about 10. I prepare water in the electric kettle in the morning for my evening wash since you can count on them shutting off the water at 7 or 8pm. Ive hit a rhythm here.

News has become a lot smaller. I have an infection in my finger from a tiny cut that blew up when washed in the dirty tapwater here, but spoke Spanish quite well enough to get and discuss antibiotics, iodine, gauze, cream, and surgical tape in the local pharmacy. (yes, all that stuff is over the counter) I have to incise and drain it tonight on my own with no lidocaine. I did it last night and let me tell you, I&Ding an abscess on yourself hurts. A lot. And bleeds a lot. But Ill do it again tonight in hopefully a more successful way.

Ive become the local doctor as well. Mostly because I speak English and Hebrew. I get about 3 consults per day about everything from gallbladder pain to salmonella to STDs and abortions. I tell everyone Im not a doctor and I can only be a source of information, but still there is a steady stream of questions, esp re instructions that they received in clinics here.

My friends here are all great, many Israelis from Chabad, a few volunteers in other programs, a few local Peruvians who Ive met. Especially my Spanish teacher Millie. I hang with her family and am going to her nephews 7th bday next weekend. They speak ZERO English (like most people here), so its a challenging social scene but its great practice. My Spanish is now such that I can communicate fine. With lots of grammatical errors, but Im understood. Every week it gets better.

So thats it here. Regular life. The 24th is Inti Raymi, the biggest holiday here left over from the Incan Sun Worship (it is the solstice), so that should be what to write home about. The town has been preparing for it for weeks and there are nightly concerts, daily parades. I cant wait.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Ausangate

Ausangate.
In three days it was the adventure of a lifetime.

Prologue: I think I told this story already but it is the true beginning of this trip. Elana, our housemate Chris, and I came home one evening, arms full of groceries, chatting and laughing. Let ourselves into the apartment and started unpacking our things, when suddenly a distinct noise of something dropping and rolling down stairs emanated from the upstairs of the apartment. Chris had just finished telling us about how he experienced the identical situation in Bariloche, Argentina, when he came upon some thieves robbing his apartment, so we looked at each other and backed towards the door, slamming it behind us. We scurried out to the street asking each other what to do. Should we go back in and check it out? Seemed foolhardy if someone or someones were actually in there and especially if armed. We could wait a while and hope they left, but who knows when that would be and wed run the risk again of surprising them if we came home too early. The best course of action, Lony and I agreed, would be to walk down the street to the hostel whose common area was always filled with Israelis waiting for an adventure to come up, and get a group to come clear the house with us. Safety in numbers, and especially numbers of recently retired well-trained soldiers. So we walked over and explained the situation to the group who happened to be sitting there. They thought it hilarious and donned health-worker face masks and sunglasses as they burst into our apartment clearing each room with their fingers folded into guns. No one was here and everything looked untouched. We found out later that the water supply in the city was turned off that night as often happens in Peru, and the air in the pipes was clanging and gurgling to produce that noise. Or it was the ghost which clearly lives here, whichever you find more plausible. Well, if youve ever tried to get a big group of Israelis to do anything, let alone leave, youll understand why they ended up staying and hanging out for hours. We had had plans that night, forget about it, and poor Chris kept trying to get in a word through the din of everyone yelling over each other and laughing, and eventually he just left. The group immediately felt like family and invited us on their treks to Macchu Pichu and Ausangate (Lony went on both, I could only afford time for the latter). So from a little noise in the house we ended up meeting our newest addition to our family, and having an amazing experience.

Day 1: It was evident from the outset that whatever we had been told about this trip was just a whim; no one really knew what was going on, but for $40 for 3 days, it had to be worth it. We started all at the Israeli hostel where we caught cabs to the bus station on the other side of town ($1 for the cab). Station is an exaggeration. Its a sign-less place where the bus for Ausangate is known to pull over around a certain time. Vendors come and push their colorful and strange-smelling wares near the nearby abandoned lot/junkyard where you wait. The bus was a public one and included in our trip price (another $1), which apparently was the first-class fare meaning we had seats for the 4hr ride. Others presumably paid less to stand. With our backpacks and sleeping bags, went family's entire possessions as they moved to a new region, and we settled in with lots of giggling and anticipation to look at the people and eat the bananas just purchased outside. The bus wound up and up out of Cusco and into the arid surrounding region. The flat colors of the dusty land, cactuses and hungry dogs were punctuated by the bright rainbow colors that the people wore. Intricately beaded with mirrors and ribbons, with wide hats to protect them from the merciless sun, the brown, weathered faces and dust-colored feet in old sandals contrasted starkly with our white young faces and tan, black and white REI camping clothes.

We landed in a small village with a market along the street, as we waited for the next leg of the trip (of which none of us had information). We were treated by the locals with wariness, sometimes interest, and maybe some animosity for our expensive things and desire to photograph them as curiosities in their home environment. Some found us entertaining, mostly children, who ran along behind us just wanting to touch us or have their photo taken. But to me it seemed that most were just tired from trying to scratch our a living, and felt nothing towards us at all. We were too far removed from their experience to touch it.

Next leg was in the open bed of a cargo truck in which we rattled up the pebbly track through yellow fields of grasses for over an hour. Everyone laughed and jokes and sang traditional Israeli songs from the Kibbutzim and the Army, breaking occasionally into American Pop so we could join in. Talk with a mixture of Hebrew and English with some Spanish thrown in occasionally with the effect of me never knowing what language I was listening to or speaking, just understanding without recognizing. The air was cool and crisp and you could feel the altitude slightly in your head and lungs. Towering white mountains sat against the blue blue sky and the golden fields, and the energy was all friendship and positivity as we rumbled along.

When the truck finally stopped, it was still unclear where we were staying. We put on our packs and walked over the rolling hillside behind our guide. Rivulets of glacial water flowed freely through the tall yellow grasses, and the long light of the sunset lit up everything, including the 20,000+ft Ausangate. It looked as if we were tiny creatures weaving our way through an undulating golden sea. Our home that night was a "refugio," a refuge, which turned out to be the grain and potato storage shack of a family. The family spoke only Quechua, so we had no means to communicate except our guide for whom Spanish was clearly his second language (No, he didnt speak English, I didnt even say that before because it went without saying). The children were so dirty it was shocking, with snot stuck firmly on their faces and then caked in the surrounding dust and they seemed to be eternally sick, with wet coughs but wearing sandals in the increasing cold mountain night. We tried to talk with them and shared ouur oreos when they werent working by carrying heavy water jugs up from the stream or keeping house or bringing in the chickens for the night, and even though they looked at us with wonder, they seemed to appreciate being babied.

The homestead was a wall of stones stacked on top of each other and easily broken surrounding three mud shacks with packed dirt as the floor and straw thatch on the roof. It insulated poorly, but was better than sleeping outside, and with twelve of us like sardines in the storage space, it heated up slight to a refreshing 45 degrees. Of the other two areas, one was tiny and for extra food storage when summer comes (its winter here, remember), and the other was for the family to live. From my count it was grandma and grandpa, mother and father, and four children who slept in the two beds in the shack. On the floor lived a colony of twenty or so squeaking guinea pigs, all ages, for food on holidays, two abused and dreadlocked dogs and a number of chickens and roosters. The firepit over which everything was cooked bellowed smoke into the hut (no place for it to escape but the door). They hopefully made a lot of money from our huge group and they served us the local (vegetarian) food of potatoes, rice, onions, and spices, in a variety of forms, with the occasional egg mixed with flour to make it go further for protein. Lots of coca tea and the morning, tough bread bought in bulk at the market the week before, and a delicious fresh rhubarb jam which we put on everything to make it palatable. There was also an endless amount of fresh popcorn, since corn is a staple here, which made our hut cosy and fun as we zipped up our sleeping bags and played uno by the light of a naked bulb (electricity!).

At night, the stars were endless. At 14000 feet, the milky way was prominent and stardust was strewn across the sky. The sheer number of stars was truly like the grains of sand on a beach, and though there was no moon, towering Ausangate glistened in the starlight. The only was you could tell the horizon from the heavens was by the blackness of the land against the brilliance of the sky.

Day 2: It was cold that night, and though everyone wore all their layers, it was challenging to keep warm enough to sleep. I awoke around 5:30 to hushed Quechua and the clanging of the jugs as the children brought in water from the backyard. There was silence other than this. No birds, no bugs, no water, no wind. Mountain silence. The white ranges all around us were lit pink at this time of morning, and the previously golden fields were a muted grey in deference. Like every day here it seems, it dawned dazzelingly bright and cold. Breakfast and back through the fields to round up enough horses for the group. These were small horses for the most part, a Peruvian breed with square noses and mule-like tails, made for trekking at these high altitudes. They were well-fed on the infinite grasses, but for the most part resentful of being loaded up with gear and people, and were always feisty and ornery in the mornings.

The gear was minimal. All but one had rudimentary saddles (that one had clothes tied in the shape of a saddle), but there was no bridle or bit, just ropes tied around the horses face, and the stirrups were narrow home-made cages which didnt fit our big boots. We had a mix or riders and non-riders in the group but they didnt bother matching horses to people, and within ten minutes, two of the horses took off across the field, dumping their riders in the process. Elana and I were on two sleepy white horses and, being riders, volunteered to take the wild ones. There was no walking on these horses. And the ropes were more to hold onto than to really stop them when they took off. So Elana and I and two of our friends spent the day at full gallops, faster than the wind, running over the rolling tundra and leaping small streams, through herd of wild alpaca and beneath the ever-present white peaks and mountain lakes. Since no one died, it was a blast. But it did walk that fine line much of the time. The whole day was riding, laughing, feeling like we were flying while trying to keep the horse under control, and gazing at the mountainous horizon. It was cold but sunny and the work of riding kept us warm.

The last leg we hiked, as it was too steep to ride, descending from the tundra through furry cactuses, boulders and rocks left by the glacier, and into signs of human habitation again, walls of stacked stones and occasional mud huts with little boys shepherding their sheep. This was Aguas Termales. A town of about 20 or so sprung up around the natural hotsprings there. We were so ready. Arriving at sunset, when the temperature was fast dropping from a cool 50 degrees (55+ in the sun) to the low 30s, we jumped into our swimsuits and the 100+ degree water, and watched the sun dip below the horizon, campfires light up, and the stars burst through the night sky. Ausangate stood right over us, an arresting sight, and no one could tear their eyes from the mountain.

Dinner was pasta and sauce, but we were all too tired to really eat. We stayed in another refuge this night, but it was an upgrade. We were on the second floor up a tall rickety ladder, but it had floorboards and thin mattresses which kept out the cold, and the kitchen was below us so some heat came through the floor as well. With that and our exhaustion and the lack of electricity by which to play cards, we all spent 10 minutes marveling at the shooting stars before going straight to bed.

Day 3: I slept like a baby. Up at 6am, a few friends and I scurried through the 30 degree morning, put on our damp bathing suits and spent the first daylight hours in our steaming bath watching the sun creep over the mountain range, lighting the jagged edges one by one. We were warm after this and leisurely got into our 5 layers, ate a full if not delicious breakfast, and started for home on horseback. Both horses and people were calm this morning, after expending all our energy the day before, and rode down into the countryside just enjoying the views. The last leg we walked, sometimes laughing together, sometimes lapsing into comfortable silence, back into the colorful town where we caught the bus home. Everyone slept the whole way.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Corpus Christi

I have waited my whole life to take part in a festival like the one which we stumbled upon yesterday -- But wait, Ill get there.

So Lony and I slept on Shabbat; I had a fever and a runny nose which you might think is an exotic disease but really it was the common cold. Plus the altitude I was out for the count. But come Sunday, I was 100% better. Acclimated, kicked the cold, ready to roll. Our plan for Sunday was to see the artisans in the Plaza de San Blas, make some plans for the week, maybe see the Museo Inka and just explore Cusco. I made a list of the festivals in June to see if they had past, or which were coming. Inti Raymi -- the largest festival in Peru is June 24 and Im blocking the whole day and night to photograph that. Others are on less clear dates such as Corpus Christi which takes place nine Sundays after Easter (go figure that out). So I meant to ask.

Just walking around Cusco is an experience. The sights and smells, people leading llamas and all manner of cooked meats, teas, and fruits; everything is cobblestoned and set into steep hills. There are many many beggars and peddlers who are rather pushy too, which makes everything a little sadder and requires more caution that Id have wished. We shopped in open air markets and I photographed many faces (as you will see if you click the photos on the side of the screen); Lony meanwhile kissed every child we came across; it was adorable.

Come 1pm we stopped in a cafe for a cup of tea, and when we came out into the center square, we could hear deep, pagan drumbeats from the hillsides and suddenly as if a dam broke, a wave of colors and sounds in the form of swirling masked dancers came chanting and rolling through the streets. They were followed by more and more outrageous colors and costumes; drummers and flutists and violinists and at the center, a large decorated casket carried on the shoulders of suited, serious men and led by small children with halos and ribbons. This was a wild synthesis of ancient Incan dances and rites with the Catholicism of the Conquistadors. It used to be a day that the Incans honored their dead by parading mummies through the streets and bowing to them, praying to them, and then dancing them back to their graves. With the influence of Catholicism, the mummies became Jesus and the Saints, but the rest of the ceremony remained Incan. Everything about it was so pagan -- so ancient with such a deep spiritual and superstitious energy -- it was as if no time had gone by since the Incans were dancing through the streets with their mummies, celebrating the moon and above all the sun. We were entirely transported to another culture and time. Incredible. And I hear the best is to come. This was just the welcoming ceremony for Corpus Christi which takes place on Thursday (we have a school field trip to the main square where we will learn about the Peruvian festival; en espanol, claro). And then Inti Raymi later in June. Wow.

Thats all for now. Today we started in the Cusco ECELA Spanish program, and it is even more excellent than Lima. Our teacher is relaxed but professional. We learn in a classroom and large open stone courtyard, and Im getting ever better, Lony is as well. The same teacher will work with me one-one-one for medical Spanish, as she is a nurse. So Im quite excited about that. As always, everyone is so warm and friendly; this seems to be true of all Peruanas, and we feel always surrounded by family here. We also have made many friends, nearly all Israeli, as there are so many, Hebrew is like a second language here; more common than English in parts of Cusco.

Im uploading pictures now, but Ive gotten 1/2 way through and have to go -- all the parade pictures are at the end too, so youre missing the best ones! But Ill try to get them up tonight. Sorry, enjoy what there is!

Saturday, June 6, 2009

cusco

sorry i havent been able to write. the caps on this computer are very difficult so im doing all lower case. well we have zero internet at our house but 5minutes away there is an internet spot where it is 1.15soles for 1hr -- about 30 cents. they have a fast connection and skype though no camera that I can see. so this is promising at least for the next 3weeks while here.

so friday we traveled to cusco, no problem, and this place feels like another country -- no, another century -- with poor natives carrying tomatos in their skirts and trying to sell their chamomile flowers for tea while carrying a colorful papoose with an infant on their backs. we drove through narrow cobbelstoned streets past fruits youve never seen before and hanging pig carcases and roosters and stray dogs to stop at a random door leading into our apartment.

were staying in our own apartment which is actually a little scarier than a home stay as we had in lima. the door has an old iron bolt lock but the wood is so light and old that even i could kick it in without any effort. Every noise sounds like its in the house, the walls are so thin, and its very very dark at night. but lony and i had our mace by the bedside and slept pretty well anyway. the place itself is like in the old city, up an alley, through a doorway into a courtyard which is gated and walled by thin tiny apartments though which you can hear every cough and bark. then through our flmsy door into a gorgeous white-washed and wood two-story adobe lit throughout by huge composite windows and skylights. there are plenty of blankets which is necessary because there is no heat and it is in the 30s and 40s at night. but it has real life hot water, even in the sinks so we´re thrilled. its very clean and so far were the only inhabitants though they expect others from our language-learning program to join.

last night we went to chabad and it was wild. 200 Israelis, the place was packed, and we met the usual post-army traveling southamerica crowd. we also met a girl, jenny, who knew nothing at all about judaism but was jewish herself and came to explore. she asked when we commented on how the little three year old looked like his father the rabbi: rabbis are allowed to be married and have kids? were meeting up with her tonight to hang out more.

The altitude is brutal though. The second we got off the plane we had headaches, nausea, and felt overall sick and dehydrated. Coca tea and diamox helped Lony but as it turned out, I was getting sick anyway and slept most of today with a fever. Nothing else though so it seems like its only a virus and will pass. not too bad. after the things weve eaten and drank, Im lucky this is all i have. lots of electrolyte replacements and bottled water. and after motrin I finally stopped shivering.

now im much better and were out in the beautiful main square (10500ft elev) planning our restful activities for tomorrow while we continue to acclimate.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Centro de Lima

As expected, we are too busy living life here to write about it, but Ill try.

Spanish lessons are moving excellently. Lony, who is only on her third day of learning Spanish is starting to pick out words, and I speak a fluent mistake-filled pidgen Spanish. :) Its great it just comes pouring out of my mouth chalk full of wrong conjugations, swapped words, and verbal faux-pas, but everyone is so kind and impressed that I am trying that Im generally understood and vicaversa.

Yesterday we got up had breakfast of bananas, granola and a Peruvian yogurt -- I have to find out what its called. We were in the supermarket here picking out flavors when a tall Peruvian gentleman came over and started advising us what is local and what to buy. He said this fruit is only found in Peru and it is the best. Wow, that is an understatement. It is fantastic. It tastes like a caramel yogurt a little, but fruitier and in fact from a caramel-colored fruit. Plus we always drink this cloves tea with a dash of thick milk. The food here is so fresh, it is incredible. I havent gotten into the coca tea since its tastse sort of grassy and isnt much to my liking.

It is always a moment leaving our locked, safe, stucco-walled front patio. All the tranquility in the stately colonial house dissipates as we step out the the flowered white haven within the gates of our courtyard and out onto the bustling grey streets. You are immediately swept up into the grey hecticness which is Lima, vendors riding long 15-ft bikes with their little bread stands on top, blind beggars and street children, business men and women with pocket watches and three-piece suits walking to work. We live a 15minute walk through the center of Miraflores to our school and the mornings are filled with sights and sounds that are so South America -- or perhaps many non-first world cities. At times it reminds me of Ben Yehuda street in Israel, but then it lacks the familiarity we feel when there. We hurrry to class -- always late -- and then again step off the street into a gorgeous old colonial building; this one ornate and guarded by wrought-iron fences, into the school courtyard and our class.

In the afternoon, we picked up our friend Eva the German girl, and were off to the Center of Lima, the Plaza Mayor (de Armas), a 30minute cab ride, $3.00. All the quaint charm and relative safety of Miraflores gives way to the Big City feeling with shoe-shiners, and police, and pickpockets, and textile and leather vendors, and the seat of government. Pictures are on the upper left, I hope. We made out priority seeing the historic building and the Monastario de San Francisco with the Catacombas -- the San Franciscan Monastery and Catacombs -- which that the most unbelievable frescas and tiling and ornate gold-leafing over Cedarwood furniture. It was a place full beauty and mystery, straight out of Umberto Eco's name of the Rose. There were old monk's bones/bodies in random places and a library with tall winding staircases reaching up into the vaulted walls of ancient religious texts. Lots of skylights there since candles were forbidden in the library. And then the catacombs, a sort of mass grave for those who could not afford a plot of their own, build for Peruvian-size people so we were hunched over walking through the tunnels, and lit by glassed-in torch-lights on the walls.

Incredible.
But it is already 15 minutes before we need to leave for class, and we're on track to again be late, so I have to run!

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Arrival Adventures

We're having the BEST time already.

There were some initial adventures which are too long to relate here, involving new friends, much broken Spanish, and a sprinkle of luck, but suffice it to say that nothing went as planned and we survived anyway. After much giggling and whispering on the hostel couches, we went to bed at 4am and slept until 7am. As soon as the sun came up, we blew out of our mediocre hostel for the place we're meant to be staying. What a difference.

It is gorgeous old colonial home with white walls, wood trim, and surprising geometric skylights, and hidden winding staircases like they are in Jerushalayim. Open to the air in random geometric corners, with doves in the eaves laundry blowing in the wond. The elderly proprietor Olrando and his daughter are kind and warm and quick to laugh; the essence of hospitality. It seems that with so many bathrooms and bedrooms, the family makes an income renting it to wealthy international students. The group, as weve met so far is a young man from Montreal (Egyptian originally) who has worked in Peru for a year doing social and political research for the Peruvian embassy, a Brit working for months with Amnesty International, an Alaskan working in inner-city Lima public hospitals as a pharmacist, and a German here, like Lony and I, with a Spanish Immersion program. Smart and funny and well-travelled; and all our age, I would love to spend more than the few days we'll have with this group. We're going out for tea/coffee/beer tonight and hopefully we'll keep in touch throughout our stay.

We went to class late -- it took time getting our bearings in this city which is ungridded and set at an angle to the sea -- but we got there, and met our teacher Pilar who listened to our Spanish, gave us a written test, and put us in class 1A. :) Im actually really glad because I feel like I always fake things enough to advance to a later class, but then I actually miss the fundamentals and always regret it. And I learned things already, so its perfect. Lony and I are the only ones in our level, so we have a private teacher, but then during breaks we socialize in the open-air patio/courtyard, drink tea, and talk to the other students. Weve met Patrick from Phili who ran the Boston Marathon, a guy from the south of France, and Japanese fellow recently immigrated to the US, and an Italian, as well as the lovely staff there including Antonio (another teacher) and ours, Pilar. Classes run 9A-1pm, with little breaks, and the there are afternoon activities which Ill probably do in Cusco, but here were so busy exploring, we havent signed up for any yet. I keep meaning to take pictures of these fantastic ornate old building but have some rightful trepidation about carrying my camera, let alone taking it out, on the street, so we'll see -- the pics you see here are of the home we're staying in.

Off too class now.