Central America visual impressions – Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua and Costa Rica
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The slaughter house
I won´t go back in time as much as I could to fill you in with all the happenings in Patacancha, but will just write from my diary entry yesterday 
Writing from very high up in the mountains, a beautiful place, no road, almost no people (think one person with a couple of horses every couple of hours), basic estancias (livings) and stunning landscapes. The downside: I will be hell-ish sore tomorrow most probably! (The good news: no, I am not, just tired…) We just had our lunch which we brought with us to my family´s 2nd estancia (the furthest one).. So this hike finally happened! It had been promised for 7 weeks, and now my last days are counting, it was getting time… Not with Ignacio as planned, but with Isabel. I think they started to understand that if they wanted to keep their promise and show me the place, they had to hurry up before I leave on Monday! Ignacio is making adobes (bricks from mud and grass) today and Margarita cooking for all the labourers helping out on the adobe project. So the only responsible person (sort of!) left was Isabel. I do hope Margarita is also weaving or else my order will never get finished on time!
The day started (too) eventful as I was woken early by my roommates-for-the-night: Yanet, Margarita´s cousin and Isabel all got up at dawn. And they had awoken me mid-night already by shining their torch in my face a few times! I wasn´t so grateful for that… It was a very cold morning with some ice on our slope, and as breakfast wasn´t ready yet, I took my laundry back out (it had been raining again and my laundry didn´t get dry within the previous day), and stumbled upon an unpleasant sight, especially so early, cold morning before breakfast: they were killing a sheep in preparation for the wedding pachamanca tomorrow. I made myself observe, and they seemed quite skilled at it. They started with slithing its throat, catching the blood in a bucket. That bucket (steaming because of the sheep´s bodyheat in comparison to the outdoor temperature) then disappeared into the kitchen, where I anxiously made sure it wasn´t part of our breakfast, just imagine! Then the head was entirely cut off and the legs broken and then cut as a starting point for skinning the animal, Yanet + cousin did it, with our normal kitchen knives. I observed a while, but then decided I had enough and retreated into the warmer kitchen for maté and potato soup. Just before Isabel and I left, Yanet and Doris were washing the intestines and other internal organs. I really don´t want any meat today! The skinned meat, basically a very naked sheep, got stored in my bedroom, bloody great! The room already smelled when I left. If the poor animal is still there tonight, I think I will have to ask politely for it to overnight elsewhere, or else my night will be disturbed!
Unfortunately, Isabel found back the rabbit this morning who had escaped from our kitchen last night. The kids had brought it from the estancia, to be killed for Ignacio´s birthday. It is a gorgeous, intelligent animal, so I have to admit I was relieved when it was discovered it made a run for its life, literally Shame it´s back…
Lunch break is over, time to hike back home, a rough 3 hours to go!
Home, pleasantly tired, very heavy legs I just noticed on the way back up from the bathroom! The kitchen, from where I am writing, doesn´t have a single view that is remotely pleasant.
Left, next to the stove, is the alpaca head that has been there for about 10 days. I am surprised it doesn´t look/smell rotten yet!
On my right, hang all the sheep´s intestines and other body parts I can´t place but look disgusting enough. In front of me hangs the remainder of the rabbit, which just got killed as I arrived home. The meat disappeared into one pan, the blood into another. Are they really converting this into eatible food? I will be scrutinizing my plate for the next few days as I don´t wish to encounter, or digest, any unnamed pieces of ´meat´ or blood.
And oh, on the bottom ´shelf´, lies the sheep´s head staring at me, with its poor legs next to it.
To top it off: the sheepskin hangs over my head after it was left to dry in the sun today. Only missing bit is that someone will sleep on it tonight! (The cousin might have…)
I thought the house seemed a slaughterhouse today, but apparently ´all´ ´town´ is like that in preparation for the 3 weddings taking place tomorrow. Well, ´I am thrilled!´ NOT!
Back to the subject of the hike, on a more positive note!
It was truly amazing, off the beaten track as far as you could imagine, far away from the road, beautiful mountain views, some smooth, gentle and green, some others aggressive and snow-covered, loads of streams, even more lamas and alpacas, tons of sheep and lamb, birds and few houses, all very traditional.
On the way up we were four, including 2 neighboring kids heading the same direction, we met along the way. Just upon leaving Patacancha, I had a ´bright´moment that we should bring something to drink. Even though we had been provided with enough food to last us 2 days, no one had thought of anything to drink. We stopped at the last shop and I had Isabel pick a gaseosa, or soda. The shop lady had actually got a small supply of Coca Cola, and Isa had clearly never had it before and knew it was the more expensive (4 times!) than the other, local ones. So Coke it was! ´I want the black one´ she said 
She was very content with her own bottle. At our first rest stop, she pulled it out of her carrying cloth where also the transistor radio playing continuous blearing music sat, and she was nice enough to share it with her cousin. I pulled out a bag of crisps exported from Ollanta and shared witht the 3 kids. THey asked me what it was! Children from potato country! I never would have imagined they wouldn´t know… So I explained… They all opinionated they were good though they had put too much salt by accident!
The second leg of the hike was less fun. The 4th girl dropped her spindle (they all spin while walking) which went skitting far downthe mountain, unwinding thread along the way, which took a good half hour to retrieve downhill, out of the bushes, river, alpacas, etc.
Then, the cousin (too weird, complicated name, but he was my star in 6th grade English class) got bitten by an aggressive dog. I tried to send him home as it was clearly hurting, teeth had entered the flesh of his upper arm, but he wouldn´t hear of it. I wanted him to go to the clinic to get it properly looked after, plus I don´t know if they have tetanus or rabies here? He insisted he´d continue up to the estancia as his brother was awaiting him. Turns out this poor 10 year old is up in the mountains alone tonight watching his father´s 30-odd sheep and lamas! It was his brothers turn to go home… I just saw the brother again, and his Spanish is quite good. I insisted he´d make sure his little brother goes and sees the nurse when he returns tomorrow. Turns out he didn´t even know he was bitten! I wonder why not? I went to see Marisol to also give her a heads-up, and she explained the older brother had been bitten by the same dog, quite severely, in his head and neck a while ago. I would kill the dog! This one is not to be trusted!
Dinner almost ready. Margarita just fishes out the sheep´s heart, rabbit´s ears and some other bits and explains I am allowed to have the heart as it is the nicest bit! No, thanks! I politely give it a miss…
(this was the most horrendous meal I have had. Even without the meaty bits, I couldn´t swallow the broth and just spooned out the potato from the soup, the taste was awful!)
Keep your fingers crossed for the next few days. I will get a meat overload, they think it is a delicacy and I shiver at the sight of most… plus levels of hygenics are ultra low, another reason not to want most of it… How to get out of these experiences politely?
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Rituals… mournings & celebrations
Another few old extracts from my diary as I am in Cuzco now, on a remotely fast connection, so will even try to upload some images later tonight after I have had dinner! As that takes some patience usually, I will do the writing now and only embark on the uploading adventure after the tummy is happy
Funeral
One day the clinic was closed unexpectedly, so I couldn´t work there as planned. That was weird, Marisol the nurse hadn´t said anything or left me a note?! Turned out that after 7 hours of labour during the night a healthy baby (#8!) was born, but as the placenta didn´t come out, they went to Ollanta, and then eventually to Cuzco… all in public transportation that ´luckily´ run exactly the moment it was needed! Just imagine… Apart from this story, I heard some gossip about how some men treat their women here: from prohibiting anticonception methods to doctor check-ups, going out alone, … as I know some of these women, it´s quite hard to know, especially for Yolande (Yessica´s mom) I feel sorry.
The morning at the clinic was very quiet so we talked a lot, about the support they receive from charity, the community, the ministerio, and we made avocado sandwiches with real (!) brown bread from Ollanta and my imported avocado, a joint effort! Once the asembleo (monthly community meeting) was over, it got busy. Fortunately that was only in the afternoon, so we could join the belated celebration for ´dia del maestro´, teacher´s day, at the colegio we had been invited for. Again a lot of dancing, some singing and live music of a guitar-like instrument and a harp, and even I danced. We then were invited by the kids for lunch: baked potatoes and cuy (guinea pig), not quite my favorite! Too fat and bony, hard to eat and get rid of what I didn´t feel like eating but the locals would have loved as delicacy!
After the festivities, and having been home to let them know I wasn´t eating lunch with them, I walked across the burial (can hardly call it anything more sophisticated) on the way to the clinic. The funeral procedures were in full course. I stayed for the most interesting bit and experienced a lot. The abuelita (84 according to Marisol) had been lying in the little house (barely a chapel) since she had been found dead, and her closed family and friends had spent the night at her side, drinking loads of trago (no wonder the barking of the dogs the night before!), chewing coca to stay awake and ease the pain, and smoking to blow away the bad spirits. At some point before I arrived the grave digging had begun, in which about 8 men participated. The hole was 2 1/2 m deep, straight down, and not a centimeter bigger than needed. The scary bit was that they came across a skull and an arm bone, which they passed around happily as it was a trophy (I was quite relieved when these later disappeared back into the grave, on top of the grandma, before closing it down). The rules of respect for the death here seem quite different, also walking, playing, jumping on the graves by both kids and adults seems perfectly acceptable. While digging the hole, the boys were closely observing, the women and girls all sat together in the corner of the cemetery talking and drinking trago and gaseosa (bubbly sugary drinks, cheap imitations of Coca Cola, Fanta and Sprite).
Once the grave was deemed ready (by measurements with a rope), all translated to the house for a final goodbye. Apparently a smelly one as all covered their noses. I didn´t go in. According to Marisol the locals are buried without a casc, and I wasn´t sure to be up for the sight. After all had said their farewells, she was carried to the grave. In a casc after all! Fortunately… Juan who took care of her (she was a young widow without children) could afford one and had it brought in from Ollanta, an exclusivity by local standards!
Then it all started to go wrong… The case didn´t enter the hole smoothly, and ended up tilting a lot. When they finally understood it had to be taken back up to enlarge the grave (the men were more than drunk, this certainly didn´t help their insight!) the casc jumped open, and wouldn´t close anymore: the lady had curled up in the bottom because of all the tilting. So in the end I did see her. Tiny, and of course not as taken care of as they would do in Europe… not an entirely pleasant sight! They lifted her out and put her back in straight, quite roughly. Then the casc was closed with iron wire, improvisation! The remainder of the non-functional nails was hammered b ack in with a stone, again, without too much care or respect. She was lowered again back into the grave, under continuous smoking and drinking of the men. The skull was put on top of the case, and all earth thrown back on, while Huan thanked everyone for their help. I don´t think anything religious happened. The grave wasn´t finished upon my return a few days later, I wonder if she will get a little wooden cross with her name carved in as some of the other fancy graves…
It mind sound weird, but it did feel like a replacement-funeral for my uncle in my absence of the real one…
I think the reason they happened to dig into someone´s bones was that apparently not all graves are marked… but it must have been an old one… and someone with only 4 teeth!
Mixed emotions to be hugged one moment and thrown confetti on my head in congratulating me for teacher´s day, then to be a strange (but accepted and appreciated!) observer to this burial… could barely call it a funeral!
Bonding with the kids
On the same day I further bonded with Yesica and Arnaldo who excitedly greeted me upon arrival at the clinic. Arnaldo now officially is my boyfriend (of 2 1/2 years old), and Yesica decided to wipe off the dust on my bum after I had been sitting on the ground playing with her. We had some fun with a balloon and taking pictures. Yesica wanted the balloon blown up huge and attached to her little hat, an odd sight proportionally! Eventually it burst in the heat of the sun when it finally came out, but she didn´t seem too sad fortunately. I also saw her first toy: a makeshift car from a bottle and two wheels, where she first tighted the balloon to, to pull, but later a string as she found one. So we played with that for a while, did our usual dancing session (local folkloric dances called Wayatas are Arnaldo´s specialty in his baby-poncho!), and she pulled me over to her new house. I was shocked at how basic it was, a one room, junk-piece, some ribs of meat dyring in the nook of the paja roof, loads of overused textile to serve as bedding, thread-bare… Hard to imagine a family of four lives there. But then again, both cooking for the school, they don´t need much of cooking space? It thought they´d be fairly good jobs, but seeing their meager posessions, I start to doubt…
Seems like Yesica now owns a real ´pollera´ (skirt) since she visited her grandma a few days far away up in the mountains… maybe she made it? Probably! Now she is a real little ´doña´character!
Another few days later, I came across Arnaldo running through town behind a big cardboard box. He imagined it was a car, and kept pushing it about avidly. At some point he first asked Yesica to get in, and then pushed her off the mountain, which was hilarious. After that it was time for me to learn more Quechua, which included ´get in´, ´sit down´, and ´get out´and ´where do you want to go´. He was playing a local carro service! But had a hard time moving me to my destination
Birthday
The Sunday preceeding Margarita´s birthday I was sent to the market, all by myself! I am getting independent Margarita sent me, as to avoid spending money/getting drunk on chicha herself or Ignacio, and both girls were ´arriba´ (meaning up the mountain, tending to the sheep). I had a blast, as loads of people greeted me, and kids jumping up at me or hugging my legs all the time. I´m truly getting integrated! A warm feeling…
On Wednesday I had to go and pick up Margarita´s birthday cake in Ollanta, and as the schools closed down unexpectedly, my plan to take the teachers bus back down at 8.30, that way pretending to be at school and have no one guess I was preparing a gift or surprise, all failed. As I was too sick (heavy cold!) to even consider getting up at 4.30 am to take the open market truck to town, I decided to walk… well, that was the only option left after a night of sniffing through all my kleenex supply. It was a tight planning, as the only bus back up would leave at noon! I powerwalked down the mountain, taking shortcuts from the road as much as possible (helped by the fact I start knowing the terrain), and arrived in Huilloc after an hour. There I was fortunate enough to find a kind driver willing to take me down to town, which gave me the much needed 1 1/2 hour extra in Ollanta over my otherwise impossible schedule. So time for more orange juice, doing some practical errands, go to the post office to check for poste restante mail, get cash (the ATM had been empty a few days before when I went to order the cake and wish my own mom happy birthday, which was ridiculously frustrating as there is only one and I didn´t want to get to town so soon again. Plus, the cake turned out to still lack the writing I had asked for, and wasn´t wrapped, so good to have some extra time to get that sorted! The cook was a smarty-pants and excited about his knowledge of English, so I ended up with ´happy birthday´ instead of ´feliz cumpleaños´, the bugger! He thought I would just take the cake on a plate, and seemed quite shocked when I asked for a box to take it to Patacancha. Eventually we found one in a neighboring shop. Upon return, Margarita was pleasantly surprised, and by the look in the eyes of the kids, this seemed the first cake in a long time if not ever!
In the morning, when I entered the kitchen around 7 am, Margarita was already covered in confetti and had received a little grandma doll from Feliciano and Yanet, what a joke! She only turned 32… Gumercindo was also there, and we had a rather lavish breakfast with fried trout (tough on my stomach!). We also had ponche, ground beans boiled in water with loads of sugar, to become a weird drink probably closest to super thick soy milk. A delicacy as I understood it is for them, I didn´t care for it, would have rather had maté! The mood was rather festive. Upon return from my cake fetching trip, the kitchen was jam-packed and I got a huge plateful with potatoes, rice, noodles, more fried trout, and too much of the poor grilled cuys that were still running around alive in the morning. Horror, as she wouldn´t give me less, and the cuy still had hair! (it was the white one…). Apart from the emotional connection, cuy is crap anyway: tough meat and too many little bones! I fnished less than half my plate (very impolite!), while the cuy´s head was staring at me from Isabel´s plate, yack! I then got a HUGE slice of cake, enough to not only make me stuffed, but also to not desire any more of it ever at all! Gumercindo thanked for the gesture of the cake with ´gracias por tu cariño´, surprising but nice for him to say! I escaped after a while for a much needed digestive walk, and when returning for dinner, it was more ´fancy´ food, now with eggs. Protein overkill in one day! (first you never get any, then a month´s worth by our standards in a day!). After dinner we chatted, listened to music, and they started to dance. Little ´ciao bella´ (I don´t know how to write her name but it just sounds like this!) fell asleep in a corner of the kitchen, she´s such a cuty! I left for bed at 9 pm, very late by the usual routinestandards, and kept hearing music throughout the night. When I woke up at 7, they were still dancing and drinking beer! Fortunately Yanet looked like she had been sensible and had slept, plus was sober (couldn´t say that of the rest!), which was probably my luck, so I got yet another egg for breakfast, rice with tuna, bread and avocado. Plus my imported orange juice I sneakily drunk (from a plastic bag, punching a hole with my straw, a souvenir from Ollanta the day before!). Then I escaped the drunk crowd, to go to the posta (clinic)…
Airplanes
One evening Margarita and I had such a blast talking while Margarita was cooking, we ended up spoiling the rice for dinner! Margarita has a build-in clock for cooking times. I don´t know how she does it, but it is always cooked to perfection without looking/trying. This particular evening she knew it was too late before taking the lid off! The big reason: we were engrossed in a conversation about airplanes, how they fly, the experience etc and Margarita was hanging at my lips.
“No, airplanes, don´t flap their wings like birds.”
“Oh, that is good, so you can´t fall off!”
“No, you sit inside like a car.”
“But what if people want to get on or off?”
“They can´t, the plane goes from departure airport to arrival airport without allowing people on or off mid-flight”
“Is the air cold when you open the window?”
“Doesn´t the wind blow you away?”
“You can´t open the window or exit…”
“And what if you need a wee?”
“And what if you are hungry?”
“Oh, you get food? Are there cooks too? What? But no fire to cook on?”
“No, they prepare meals at the airport and store them in boxes for heating on the plane”
“How are they heated without fire?”
“With electricity”
“So there isn´t even gas on the plane?”
“Can planes swim like birds?” (this question was later explained as they had heard of the plane falling into the ocean, probably the Air France one)
“What if you see your house and you want to get off?”
“Oh! Flying at night? How can the driver see where to go?”
“Is flying a plane the same as driving a car? Why is it more difficult? Is there roads in the air too?”
“US is a powerful country, right? Because they produce airplanes, and cars, … and…”
You can imagine, this was a very inspiring talk for us both. It reminded me how one would look at the modern world without all the knowledge that has been planted into our minds since we were little, through books, TV and own experiences. It is so refreshing to get an adult´s view on worldly issues that same other-worldly from their perspective! This conversation was just one of the many we have had over time about all sorts of modern conveniences, from how our houses are constructed, to food preparation and clothing manufacturing, to travelling…
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Life changing experiences – touching the heart
While teaching
My teaching highlight so far surely was the first computer lesson I taught the 6th graders. I figured that a good introduction towards computer interaction and eventually internet and emailing would be to have the write a letter in Word. That way they would use the mouse, the keyboard and learn the basics of creating text documents, saving them, etc.
Writing a letter was certainly not as easy as it sounds. Maybe as Quechua in Inca times never was a written language, these kids didn´t seem familiar with the concept. In those times, messages were passed on by tying knots in a piece of rope, or just by word-of-mouth. These days, radio Wayna Picchu broadcasts messages to fellow family members in the area, along the lines of ´message to so-and-so from your son living there-and-there: I am coming home next week, all is well, loads of luggage. Please wait for me at the crack of dawn, with 2 horses, at the creek between mountain X and Y´. Anyway, back to the concept of writing a letter. After I had instructed the children to write to a friend or family member far away that they don´t see often, and that they should imagine their letter would be delivered by someone, they got under way. I explained the structure of a letter, with an initial greeting, the message, and the closing, signed with their name. Loads of questions asked and coaching needed, but half an hour later there were some touching examples, for example from a boy whose mother lives in Lima and he hardly ever sees her, he wrote how much he misses her and how much he wants her to come back. And then another little boy, 10 years old, who was addressing his grandfather. I just hijacked a copy of his letter from the computer he wrote it on, here it is:
QUERIDO ABUELO
Abuelito donde te fuiste a quien daré un abraso
Querido abuelito a buelito donde ti fuistes estoy
Esperando tu regreso observando el oresonte
Jesús and his last names
Apart from some typos (they are not used to writing in Spanish), the rough translation is:
Dear Grandfather,
Little grandfather, where did you go, who will I give a hug,
Dear little grandfather, grandfather, where did you go,
I am waiting for your return observing the horizon
Jesus, plus his 2 last names.
Turned out his grandfather passed away a long time ago… a touching story! These letters really made my eyes water, especially from those ´cool´ 6th grade boys! Clearly the concept of a letter wasn´t clear entirely, yet so to the point and fulfilling my request!
Also signing the letter evoked a panic attack amongst the 16 kids: Señora, how can I sign on the computer? Clearly their understanding of ´firmar´ is something you do by writing your name on a piece of paper, or, if you are illiterate, by leaving your fingerprint from an ink pad on the document needed signing. I explained to them you can do it on the computer to, and they started to wonder how… In the end we ´compromised´ by typing our names.
More and more I start having the feeling the locals are a rather spiritual bunch, who certainly believe in after-life and communicating with the death. Also my host family has initiated various conversations about dreams, mostly during breakfast, and even more so over the last few days as my uncle passed away. ´Haven´t you dreamt about your uncle? Hasn´t he spoken to you?´ Or on other occassions: ´Why do you need to go to Ollanta to call your mother, you can just ask her or be with her in your dream?´ If life was that easy… (my headache one day was explained by my hostmom as missing my mother )
Local love
My smallest friend or biggest friend here in the village is called Yessica. Or, as she introduced herself after I enquired after her name (in my best Quechua): ´Doña Yessica´, a title of respect normally used for the elderly. What a character! Doña Yessica is 3 years young, a gorgeous little girl who is always in a good mood. She doesn´t speak a word of Spanish (other than copying what I say, in which case she also speak English and Dutch, but I doubt she knows what she says…)
Yessica has a little brother, 2 years old, Arnoldo. I don´t think the pair of them owns any toys, and usually I see them play with the water tap, in a creek, with flowers, stones, their sandals, or just each other and themselves. They are always happy, and often I catch them dancing to the clinic´s radio´s music, or Yessica singing a tune herself.
Somehow she picked up on my sadness one day after I had read my email and unpleasant news arrived, and she took me to a dry piece of grass and made me sit down. She then start to stroke my hand… so sweet! She also likes holding hands, and as I was cold (for a change) that day, I had my gloves on. As my pinkies are tiny, this finger of the glove isn´t filled up entirely She noticed while holding my hand, and she tried to strip the glove more onto my hand, as she thought it was falling off!
After the stroking and holding hands was over, she started to dance… there is no better remedy for sadness than spending some time with her!
Family support
My host family has their own ways of keeping an eye on me. After I returned from Ollanta the day I heard my uncle passed away, my host mom told me one of the daughters was going to sleep with me in my room to keep me company, so I didn´t feel alone, so sweet! Also, I learned yesterday that she told a friend who enquired after my wellbeing (I wasn´t home), that I was eating well and smiling, so she thought I was in good shape and strong again! Plus, they had been giving me strengthening matés (herbal infusions, I wasn´t aware of this, I like them all!), which she believed had been helping…
When I left for Ollanta, Doris took me to the field, picked some flowers, tied them together with a string, and handed them over to me. For me to take, so my room in the hostal would be nicer… So sweet of her!
Strangers being kind
I went to La Feria de Huancaro, a typical country fair, 2 weeks ago. The fair would be worth a whole blog entry on its own, but not sure if I will still manage that… It consisted mostly of animals (with prizes to be won for the most beautiful llama, alpaca and sheep), potato exhibition and other crops (again with prizes for the ´best´, purest races, or best experiments, cross-sections, etc), food, music and crafts from all over the Cuzco region.
I met a really nice farmer there, who was so proud he insisted on explaining me all about his potatoes and avocados. He was particularly curious as to what I was doing at the fair, as it is little known to tourists, and according to him I was the first to appear in 5 years (maybe exagerated? I knew about it as it is a highly desirable excursion for the locals of Patacancha and part of the high school went). Long story short, I told him about my stay in Patacancha, and my projects. He started to glow, thought it was amazing. And, as we don´t have any fruits or veg other than potatoes and corn in our village, he insisted on giving me his best avocado, organically grown and huge, almost the size of an average papaya, to enjoy when back ´home´, to give me energy for the projects and protect me against the cold and other endurances. So kind! Three days later, this avocado indeed was a little feast for me!
On the way back from Cuzco to Patacancha (a 5 hour trip door to door on loads of different buses costing pennies but taking a huge toll on my wellbeing as it was hot and extremely tight) I stopped over in Chinchero, a little weaving town I missed out on last year. I had met a lady from there in Huancaro, and she had asked me to stop by at her place. I did, and apart from buying a nice bag (that is why I went, the one of the fair had salmon pink lining, not my ideal color, and she promised me one with black lining in Chinchero), I ended up assisting in a natural dye workshop, a little weaving session, and being invited for lunch. She really made an effort, I got fed a 3-course meal with loads of veggies (especially the local variety of potato soup was yummie!) and of course maté, this time of fresh chamomile, delicous! She refused any sort of payment, even though the bag costed only 5 euros. I spent 4 hours with her and her family, got introduced to the community, exchanged stories and experiences, and just had a really wonderful time with what felt like family… even though the day before we were strangers, and there wasn´t much economic benefit for them in being nice to me. She also seemed to respect the work I am doing here, maybe that had to do with it? Anyway, I have an invitation (or rather, insistance…) that I´d come back one day for more conversation and food… mmm… nice!
My family will be waiting for lunch for me now (and I am freezing and kind of starving), so more life changing experiences soon!
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Facts of life in Patacancha
Did you know that…
… water boils at 83C at this altitude?
… boiling eggs takes forever that way? 13 minutes at the last attempt…
… the color of the wool/fur of an alpaca or lama depends on the position of the moon at its conception?
… locals believe that eucalyptus wood gives hotter fire than gas or cow/horse/sheep dung? And therefore is better in killing bacterias in the food…
… 10 girls are stroking my hair as I am typing this, wondering at how soft it is, and how light the color is
… they put their ´montera´ on my head just now and are saying I should get one!
… maté is drunk, and herbs are added to food, to protect your stomach against the food you are eating?
… meat here is dried and then conserved in the open air for months?
… you can´t step over a weaving-in-the-making or else it will bring bad luck to the weaver?
… the local favorite color is red? This seems to be because it resembles blood and therefore life.
… there is a whole indiginous measurement system based on the body measures, and those of clothes (like a skirtfull of corn)?
… making adobe bricks is damn tough work, mixing earth with water and straw/grass into a mudd, stamping with your feet? This apparently gives the strongest construction. Then it gets shaped in a wood mould, and released to dry for 2 weeks… then they get stacked and all ´glued´ together with more of the same mud mix.
… weaving on a backstrap loom doesn´t only give you pins and needles in your legs while seating for hours at a time on the floor, but also a sore back from the tightly strapped loom
… the designer in me is considering placing an order for a weaving in the exact colors I like, after we have done a natural dye workshop and I keep marvelling at these lovely colors and how they could be combined? Shame my weaving skills aren´t up to scratch enough to do my own piece
… if I had enough time, I could draw all local patterns in a matrix, to be able to weave them with even more time… but this would involve a lot of counting and trial and error…
… there is little to no display of public affection? At most I have seen kids hanging on their parents lap… but then again, they are climbing on me, hugging me and bringing me flowers all the time! But I have never seen adult partners even touch each other or any form of cosiness or closeness!
… I now receive handshakes from local men when we meet, as a sign of respect?
… I still eat potatoes at least twice a day, mostly in soup?
… that I can distinguish 10 types of potato now, which I am proud of!
… that even though for locals these potatoes are all very different, for me it remains a boring potato dish?
… Quechua women deserve loads of respect when it comes to multitasking: on average, per day, they spent 3 times 2 hours cooking, 5 hours pasturing sheep, 5 hours weaving, 3 hours spinning wool, 1 hour washing, taking care of kids and breastfeeding them up till 2 ½ years of age
… that no one wears underwear here
… that women wear 2 to 3 skirts, but no tights or underwear, which makes me wonder about hygenics and blatter infections with the cold!
… despite this, women are of the opinion it is no wonder I am cold all the time, I should wear a skirt like them!
… that even though we only have 1 satellite phone in town, the ´tam-tam´makes messages travel at the speed of light, word-of-mouth and radio messaging are king!
… that life is equally tough and rewarding up here
… I now own a ´lliqlla´, a locally woven wrap in the local patterns and colors, to keep me warm during freezing days, and therefore look like a local? Still missing the montera hat. A little weird for the locals still, as I now look part of the family of the woman who wove the piece… just the one I happened to buy! This is not common for tourists to get to buy these pieces… a chance of a lifetime I had!
… I wake up every day around 6 am from daylight, then think about the day ahead till 7 am when I have a little bucket bath, breakfast and then my daily activities, lunch around 1.30 pm, more activities, dinner around 6.45 pm and back in bed by 7.30 pm at the latest to beat the cold?
… Mondays and Thursday are health clinic days, Tuesday and Fridays primary school days, and the rest of the time is spent on the textile project and at the high school, workshopping my textile project with their staff?
… I now have a daily routine which includes a hike between 4 and 6 pm to ´warm up´ for the coldest hours and get my blood flowing
… that on these hikes, I not only get to see the amazing landscape, but am teaching every adult I meet a few phrases of English as they request?
… and on the same hikes, the little shepard kids (usually between 4 and 9 years old) practice their Spanish with me and I learn some Quechua from them
… school days are starting with an official, military-looking formation in front of the school, with lines of boys and girls seperated into grades, the flag raised and the national hymn sung?
… that Patacancha is on a bus route connected to the nearest town of Ollantaytambo, with busses driving on average 5 times per WEEK each way. These vehicles called ´carros´ or ´combis´ are usually Hyundai H100 vans and can accommodate up to 28 people inside, and a few on the roof… even though we call this a 9 seater van?
… that there is one satellite phone for emergencies, and a miraculous internet connection via satellite at the primary school (a donation that nobody knows how to use), which is frustratingly inapt, slow, and weather sensitive, but that regardless of all that, I sometimes battle for to use, like now
… I really warm up from the freezing temperatures from all those nice emails and comments on this blog that reach me here! Thanks dear friends and family!
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