Southern Peru

I have dreams of orca whales and owls
But I wake up in fear
You will never be my
You will never be my dear
Will never be my dear, dear friend
Dear dear friend, dear dear friend...

I made it to Lima with refreshingly few problems, after my heinous bus rides in the north of Peru. I had a front row seat in the top of a big tour bus to Lima; however, the scenery up to Lima is pretty desert like and therefore gets a little monotonous. I got into Lima just as it was getting dark, which I never like to do, but seem to do often. Once again, I was not at any recognizable main bus terminal, so I decided to trust my friend Jorge, who I met in Huaraz and assume that I was relatively close to the neighborhood where my host family lived. I was a little apprehensive about the whole situation because I had been told by several people that the neighborhood where I was staying was a notoriously bad neighborhood. I decided I was going to go for it anyway. I argued with no less than 5 cab drivers hounding me to ride with them and eventually got one to agree to take me to my host house for 7 soles -- only 2 more than Jorge said it should cost. Good enough, I decided.

I made it easily to my hosts house where I was greeted by Fresia, a 70-something widow who lives with her daughter in a large house. I had a private room off the back courtyard. Fresia was quite animated and very interesting. She and I are part of an international home-stay program called SERVAS. Look it up and join as a host or traveler; I highly recommend it. Fresia was very accommodating and helpful -- she had her grandson drive me around the next day to complete some of the errands I needed to run, called another SERVAS friend at the Brazilian embassy when I had difficulty obtaining my Brazilian visa and invited over other SERVAS hosts to meet me during my second night. I spent most of the visit with the other SERVAS members listening to very rapid Spanish covering anything and everything from food to politics and trying to stay awake as they gave me multiple glasses of red wine. Yes, Fresia the 70 year old lasted longer than I did. Throughout my stay with Fresia, I never got tired of the look of horror on other peoples faces when I told them I was staying in La Victoria. The part of the neighborhood I was in was not so bad and I had absolutely no problem.

For the next 4 or 5 days, I was lucky enough to get to stay with my new friend Jorge, who I met in Huaraz. Ironically, he has a roommate from Seattle who was gone for the week, so I got my own room again. He also lives in what I would consider the best neighborhood in Lima, Barranco. Unfortunately I do not have pictures as that was the time I was between cameras. If you go to Lima, make sure to visit Barranco, just don't tell all the other tourists. Making a local friend in Lima is by far the best way to get to know the city -- Jorge spent the better part of my stay helping my with my Brazilian visa issues, helping me find an excellent replacement camera, showing me around the usual tourist sites and showing me where to find the best food, coffee and pisco sours in Lima. We even saw a (U.S.) movie, which was a nice break from my usual traveling routine. It is perhaps most astounding to find oneself in Lima, Peru after walking out of a movie theater. For a moment I forgot I wasn't in Seattle.

While Lima was quite a bit different from the towns I had visited in the north, I recognized some of the same characteristics I mentioned about the north. Namely, the income gap that is apparent between individuals, towns and neighborhoods. In Lima, or specifically on the outskirts of Lima, neighborhoods appeared very run down, with shack-type housing that is stereotypical of the foreign perception of Andean countries; however many of the neighborhoods in central Lima were actually very, very nice (i.e. Barranco). Miraflores is the main tourist neighborhood. I spent more time there than I would have liked because the Brazilian embassy was located there. It is so touristy, you really feel you are back in the United States (there are even several Starbucks, oh the horror, the horror) so I really had no reason to want to be there.

The song I quoted above relates to the number of places I have been, how quickly I felt that I moved through Peru, the number of people I have met and become friends with and Lima and Peru in general. I have been thinking a lot about all the people I have met and how I come and go so quickly through their lives, and they through mine. I think we all have intentions of keeping in touch, though it often doesn´t happen. While traveling, we travelers are pretty frank about all of this. I have spent whole days with people and none of us has thought to introduce ourselves by name or ask the others´names. This doesn´t bother me in some ways, but does in others. In contrast, some people I have kept in touch with (thus far) and I hope it continues. Namely, Jorge from Lima and Silvana, a girl who also lives in Lima who I met through my friend Fred, have been extremely kind in keeping in touch with me and making sure my travels are going well. Maybe it is a Peruvian characteristic.

After Lima, I flew to Cusco. Jorge pointed out that taking a 30 hour bus ride straight to Cusco was idiotic when I could get a 1 hour flight for only slightly more money. It was a nice break from my recent bad luck with buses. Cusco and Aguas Calientes (the town closest to Machu Picchu) are perhaps the most touristy places I have been, though not in a displeasing way. Cusco is convienent and a pretty pleasant town. Aguas Calientes raises prices quite a bit because this town is really the only place to stay to access Machu Picchu. Machu Picchu, the Meca of western backpackers traveling in South America, was as amazing as I expected it to be, perhaps as much because of its beautiful surrounding as for the structures themselves. I think my most memorable part of the trip, however, was traveling alone through the Sacred Valley before arriving at Aguas Calientes. I enjoy spending time alone, away from other tourists and guides more. The three towns I passed through, Pisaq, Urubamba and Ollantaytambo, all had their unique charms. Plus I got to do some hiking on uncrowded trails to interesting ruins you do not get to see if hiking the (in)famous "Inca trail". I stayed with another SERVAS host in Urubamba. Jorge or "Yoyo" was extremely hospitable and had a great, though basic house in Urubamba. He speaks fluent English and French and was a great source of information about local politics. He told me about the political influence that radio personalities often have among the communities of Peru. I had seen this portrayed in a strange Peruvian movie, Pantaleón y Las Visitadoras, I saw a few months ago, so it was quite interesting to realize that this was based on some truth.

About the time I got to Cusco, I was still running into lots of street kids and begging mothers with children. What strikes me most as I walk around is seeing the homeless (or at least very poor) children and mothers. In the States, it is easier to become somewhat jaded toward the homeless as they are often middle-aged to older men; therefore, I think it is easier to feel that they are at least somewhat responsible for their condition (though I know that this is not always the case). So now I find myself handing out money indiscriminately and buying things that I don´t need. My ankles are going to be totally weighed down by bracelets within a couple of weeks. Begging is an interesting conundrum because these people really do need money each day to live; however, some argue that handing out money is counterproductive because it encourages a continuation of begging rather than a drive to find entrepreneurial ways out of poverty. So maybe I should continue buying bracelets and quit handing out money? I really have no idea.

On a lighter note, I went rafting in Cusco and it was awesome! The guys that run the company want me to move to Cusco so they can teach me to kayak and then I can work as a safety kayaker, pulling tourists out of the water. Seems kind of Catcher In the Rye - esque to me, saving hopeless, helpless tourists. Unfortunately I think I fractured my foot while rafting. It doesn´t hurt too much as long as I keep it laced up tightly in a shoe or boot. I figure I couldn't really do much about it in the States anyway, so I am not worried.