this was the first country i was to travel in by myself and needless to say, i definitely had more than one vision of being sold into white slavery considering how devatatingly gorgeous i am. it's a concern even when i'm in the backwoods of massachusetts, so, how could i trust peru? after a day, the question was actually how could i NOT trust peruvianos. i felt filthy. so cynical about the motives of the pervianos, when in actuality, i have gotten ripped off worse by the little 14 yr old who used to sell us weed in Washington Square park, but i digress....
Lima was nice but a bit too much of a grimy city feel until i hit the coast. there was this whole southern california vibe of old hippies and young, hot surfers and the obligatory little kid selling chicle on the beach because nothing says "beach scene" like winterfresh gum. I hung out with a really sweet girl from Norway and for anyone who knows me you can bet i got the skinny on their whole healthcare and education system and the conclusion that i ultimately reached was that their free education and healthcare is really fantastic, only it's located in NORWAY. i think it snows like 300 days a year and it's illegal to get into verbal arguments or use a Nordic Track since they did not give their consent for use of the country name. other than that, it really seems great. if you're not allergic to moose.
Went on to Cuzco and this place is wonderful. old school (meaning conquistador, "old school", son) cobblestone streets, churches and colonial buildings in the Plaza de Armas juxtaposed with the droves of women in more traditional "native" clothing that pretty muich consists of a large skirts with a lot of material to make it poof out a bit, big, men's loafer-type shoes, five long sleeved shirts topped off with a North Face jacket, a ringmaster's hat, and a baby wrapped in a huge colorful blanket on Lupita's back. and by the way, it made no difference how old Lupita was, she had a baby on her back. i guess Lupita was keeping it for her 15 yr old daughter, cum, baby mamita. many of these women are members of farmer families, but when you would see them in the Cuzco they were either there to sell food from carts or spent their days lugging buckets back and forth. not quite sure what this practice was about, but I was certain that the people at Human Rights Watch would be very interested to learn of the alarming lack of Chuck E. Cheese's for the children's amusement and the extent to which these women are forced to carry and even breastfeed their own babies. It's a travesty. Even despite this, the people of Cuzco werte probably the kindest most generous individuals I have had the pleasure of meeting. You ask for an inch, they give you a mile - that's the Peruvian way. I could not have been more appreciative. i admit it was a bit much when one woman tried to offer her husband to me, but i think there was something else going on there....
evidence of the Inca people is truly all over the country, everywhere, right in town squares, and stuff, so it wasn't hard to get a little old school history lesson (B.C. 'old school,' son) but of course there's not much that compares with Macchu Pichu. I am not really able to describe it with words, nor would i want to since any turn of a phrase i might employ would diminish its wonder. all i will say is that when i was there, i felt like i was in God's country. that's the best way to describe it outside of anything else any other person who's ever been there would say. it's all true. i will also say, i've been to the egyptian pyramids, and this was more breathtaking. supplies are limited so if you have the means and ability, i urge you to check it out before Starbucks puts a franchise there.
there was a little cuzco mascot that kept popping up all over the place, in tourist shops and supermarkets and when you would go book a trip, this little cartoon animal that resembled a hedgehog would be stuck on a wall in the corner. this little guy was personified all over t-shirts as bob marley, kurt cobain, even homer simpson and it would always say "cuy"underneath it. i couldn't figure this out. then i was at my travel agent/english student, melissa's, office, and i asked her. she cracked a sideways smile and looked at me a bit sheepishly under lidded eyes. "this is our food." i didn't understand. "we have food that is very traditional to cuzco that maybe americans do not like." i asked her to explain, but this time with more suspense and drama. "it is guinea pig." como se huh? "yes, guinea pig. this is very delicious for us, but i thinking that you keep these as pets, no?" yes, we do, but they are on the rodent-y side of pets and i'm wondering why you eat them when there are a lot more americans who would never want to pet one. "this is better than chicken!" was that a challenge melissa? and it was on. i went on a mission to find cuy. i marched myself all the way downtown and was hunting it down like a... guinea pig. lurking in and out of restaurant doors and back alleyways, nothing could stop me (except for my spanglish, which frustratingly, no one in Cuzco has mastered! it's a real problem on their part). then i ran into the Peruvian Indian Jones. i went into a travel agency to get directions and possibly finagle a pity lollipop out of her, when Indiana turns around with the 4pm dusky sun glowing through his thick black hair saying "Cuy? You wish to have cuy?" i wish to have you... i mean cuy, yes. "you must go to the town over. this is their specialty. here let me write this down for you." and your phone number. "que que?" nothing. directions in hand, i thank him profusely, which he brushes off in the most charming way and stands up to shake my hand. he is 9 ft tall. getting a good view of his belt buckle, i shake his hand, die a little inside, and walk away. 2 hours later i had a belly full of cuy to soften the blow, and while it doesn't quite make up for letting Indiana slip through my fingers (because i soooo had him! i think he found my smudged eyeliner quite alluring) it definitely was a pleasant experience. more pleasant at least than having a guinea pig as a pet, i imagine.
Concluding thoughts: I think it was one of the Great American founding Fathers, Mike Brady, who said, "Wherever you go, there you are." I think i found a bit more of myself in Cuzco, and in turn left a little piece of my heart there with them. Since most Peruvianos wear their hearts on their sleeves, how could i not return the favor?
gracias, Peru
Lima was nice but a bit too much of a grimy city feel until i hit the coast. there was this whole southern california vibe of old hippies and young, hot surfers and the obligatory little kid selling chicle on the beach because nothing says "beach scene" like winterfresh gum. I hung out with a really sweet girl from Norway and for anyone who knows me you can bet i got the skinny on their whole healthcare and education system and the conclusion that i ultimately reached was that their free education and healthcare is really fantastic, only it's located in NORWAY. i think it snows like 300 days a year and it's illegal to get into verbal arguments or use a Nordic Track since they did not give their consent for use of the country name. other than that, it really seems great. if you're not allergic to moose.
Went on to Cuzco and this place is wonderful. old school (meaning conquistador, "old school", son) cobblestone streets, churches and colonial buildings in the Plaza de Armas juxtaposed with the droves of women in more traditional "native" clothing that pretty muich consists of a large skirts with a lot of material to make it poof out a bit, big, men's loafer-type shoes, five long sleeved shirts topped off with a North Face jacket, a ringmaster's hat, and a baby wrapped in a huge colorful blanket on Lupita's back. and by the way, it made no difference how old Lupita was, she had a baby on her back. i guess Lupita was keeping it for her 15 yr old daughter, cum, baby mamita. many of these women are members of farmer families, but when you would see them in the Cuzco they were either there to sell food from carts or spent their days lugging buckets back and forth. not quite sure what this practice was about, but I was certain that the people at Human Rights Watch would be very interested to learn of the alarming lack of Chuck E. Cheese's for the children's amusement and the extent to which these women are forced to carry and even breastfeed their own babies. It's a travesty. Even despite this, the people of Cuzco werte probably the kindest most generous individuals I have had the pleasure of meeting. You ask for an inch, they give you a mile - that's the Peruvian way. I could not have been more appreciative. i admit it was a bit much when one woman tried to offer her husband to me, but i think there was something else going on there....
evidence of the Inca people is truly all over the country, everywhere, right in town squares, and stuff, so it wasn't hard to get a little old school history lesson (B.C. 'old school,' son) but of course there's not much that compares with Macchu Pichu. I am not really able to describe it with words, nor would i want to since any turn of a phrase i might employ would diminish its wonder. all i will say is that when i was there, i felt like i was in God's country. that's the best way to describe it outside of anything else any other person who's ever been there would say. it's all true. i will also say, i've been to the egyptian pyramids, and this was more breathtaking. supplies are limited so if you have the means and ability, i urge you to check it out before Starbucks puts a franchise there.
there was a little cuzco mascot that kept popping up all over the place, in tourist shops and supermarkets and when you would go book a trip, this little cartoon animal that resembled a hedgehog would be stuck on a wall in the corner. this little guy was personified all over t-shirts as bob marley, kurt cobain, even homer simpson and it would always say "cuy"underneath it. i couldn't figure this out. then i was at my travel agent/english student, melissa's, office, and i asked her. she cracked a sideways smile and looked at me a bit sheepishly under lidded eyes. "this is our food." i didn't understand. "we have food that is very traditional to cuzco that maybe americans do not like." i asked her to explain, but this time with more suspense and drama. "it is guinea pig." como se huh? "yes, guinea pig. this is very delicious for us, but i thinking that you keep these as pets, no?" yes, we do, but they are on the rodent-y side of pets and i'm wondering why you eat them when there are a lot more americans who would never want to pet one. "this is better than chicken!" was that a challenge melissa? and it was on. i went on a mission to find cuy. i marched myself all the way downtown and was hunting it down like a... guinea pig. lurking in and out of restaurant doors and back alleyways, nothing could stop me (except for my spanglish, which frustratingly, no one in Cuzco has mastered! it's a real problem on their part). then i ran into the Peruvian Indian Jones. i went into a travel agency to get directions and possibly finagle a pity lollipop out of her, when Indiana turns around with the 4pm dusky sun glowing through his thick black hair saying "Cuy? You wish to have cuy?" i wish to have you... i mean cuy, yes. "you must go to the town over. this is their specialty. here let me write this down for you." and your phone number. "que que?" nothing. directions in hand, i thank him profusely, which he brushes off in the most charming way and stands up to shake my hand. he is 9 ft tall. getting a good view of his belt buckle, i shake his hand, die a little inside, and walk away. 2 hours later i had a belly full of cuy to soften the blow, and while it doesn't quite make up for letting Indiana slip through my fingers (because i soooo had him! i think he found my smudged eyeliner quite alluring) it definitely was a pleasant experience. more pleasant at least than having a guinea pig as a pet, i imagine.
Concluding thoughts: I think it was one of the Great American founding Fathers, Mike Brady, who said, "Wherever you go, there you are." I think i found a bit more of myself in Cuzco, and in turn left a little piece of my heart there with them. Since most Peruvianos wear their hearts on their sleeves, how could i not return the favor?
gracias, Peru
