In my passport saga I had contact with the Peruvian police, immigrations, DHL shipping, the bank, and the US consulate (oh and the radio station). Along the way I made a few interesting observations:
1. The regular police (who I flagged down on the street) had to drive me to the tourist police. Yes, there are many types of police, only 2 of which I have yet come to know, but I estimate there's easily dozens. I know there's a special one for reporting your husband for abuse too.
2. In making my "denouncement" to the tourist police (at 2am), I found a small room with 3 people all sitting at separate desks in front of 3 brand-new computers. Despite the presence of these perfectly good computers, they wanted me to first hand-write an account of what happened. Then one of the workers took my hand-written account and hand-copied it into a spiral notebook. Now why I couldn't have orally recounted my story while someone simultaneously typed it into one of their fancy computers is beyond me.
3. I had to pay for both a copy of my police report and for a new migrations card. However, I could not pay for these things at the police station or at the migrations office. Instead I had to carry a bill to the National Bank, where I stood in line for a long time in order to pay, then take my receipt proving I had paid back to the appropriate offices. Apparently this is to limit the number of people who handle cash, so the moolah doesn't disappear. A lot of wandering around Cuzco and standing in lines for nothing, I say. No wonder the banks always have the longest lines ever. (Oh and when I returned to the police station to get my copy, it had been typed up. I guess that process required a separate worker (besides the 3 who were sitting there playing computer games) who was a specially qualified typing master.
4. I also have daily contact with the army, since some sort of military housing (I assume for high-ranking officials because all of the houses are super-nice compared to the surrounding area, with lawns (very unusual), gates, garages, and nice cars (the very very nicest cars I've seen in Cuzco are 2005ish Toyotas)) is located just down the street from me/the clinic, and it is "guarded" by non-officer military personnel. However, these "guards" seem more concerned with making catcalls and whistling after me than doing their jobs.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Trip to the Countryside
On Saturday, Paulina invited me to go to Zurite with her the following day. I think her exact words were, "tomorrow I'm going to Zurite and you should come. There's a really nice archeological Incan site nearby that we can go to. Otherwise, you'll be all alone here at the clinic." (Zurite is an Andean province about 2hrs outside of Cuzco where the Belen Parish which runs the clinic is also supporting some sort of collective farm. What the Parish wants to support a collective farm, I haven't quite figured out yet. I can't tell who it's going to benefit. It is being run by Ines and Eduardo, a Dutch-Peruvian couple around 65-70 yrs old.) I had been wanting to see a religious parade in town on Sunday, but I also like getting out of Cuzco and have heard that Zurite is quite beautiful, so I figured I might as well go.
Sunday morning Ines and Eduardo came knocking on my door at 6:45AM saying they were ready to leave. I was actually awake and about to leave for a run (you can only run here prior to 7am, after that the pollution and traffic are too prohibitive.) I had no idea we were leaving so early. I scrapped the run, changed clothes, and went to eat breakfast. Only to find that my cereal box wasn't on the shelf in the kitchen where I'd left it. I looked around, only to discover it, empty, sitting next to the trash can. Rita (our cook/odds and ends helper at the clinic) rushed in to assure me that she had nothing to do with its disappearance, and that she was afraid I would blame her. I was pretty pissed. I ate my other cereal, and then took the box to my room for protection. Then I got into Ines and Eduardo's European 1980 Land Rover for the trip. Fortunately I had brought a good book, because we then proceeded to drive around Cuzco for the next 1.5 hrs waiting for various "volunteers." At this point, Ines starts telling me about all the work that they have to do in Zurite: weeding the fields (there is no task I hate more than weeding), sewing curtains, sweeping floors, washing windows and walls of the dormitories, picking up trash from the courtyard...the list goes on. I start trying to think of an excuse to get out of the car and stay in Cuzco, but it seems too late now.
We finally hit the road, where the journey is made even more exciting by the fact that the back seat is the least comfortable seat I have ever sat in, with zero leg-room and a super-straight backed seat. Oh, and the presence of four 14-year-old volunteers from the church in the back, playing Britney Spears on their cell phone. Actually, they only have 1 Britney Spears song (Hit me Baby One More Time), which they keep replaying every other song. Other than this, the views out the window of the mountains were actually really beautiful.
Once in Zurite, I at least got to pick my only place to volunteer. I decided on the fly-infested kitchen, since I figured it would at least be fun to learn to make some Peruvian food. The Peruvian woman I helped in the kitchen was really nice, and we chatted and worked on making lunch for everyone. She has an adorable 4 1/2 year-old daughter who she wants me to teach English to, which I think I'll do if the schedule works out. After lunch it started pouring rain, so I sat in the kitchen hanging out with Eduardo, who is quite talkative. Our talk was punctuated by Ines coming to yell at us and remind us that we were supposed to be there to work as volunteers and that the gas was expensive and so on and so on, which just made Eduardo laugh and keep telling his stories about working in the Peruvian jungle with anthropologists studying a jungle tribe, and his son's quest to become a Shaman, which mostly involved him drinking some hallucinogenic jungle plant. Finally, at 6pm, after being made to walk down the hill in the mud to save Ines' tires, I was gracefully returned to Cuzco.
Since it was late, Eduardo and Ines stayed the night here again. I saw Eduardo this morning leaving the front door of the clinic, and told him I was going out for my delayed run. When I returned, Eduardo had closed the bolts on the inside of the front door. Now why on earth would you close the bolts to the door when you know that I'm outside and returning soon?? And why would you close them at 7am anyway? I think the thieves are packed up for the night. After I got back inside and showered, I went to eat breakfast. Where I found my entire carton of milk gone. Those MFs. In thanks for my volunteerism, I got my cereal and my milk stolen. Unbelievable.
Sunday morning Ines and Eduardo came knocking on my door at 6:45AM saying they were ready to leave. I was actually awake and about to leave for a run (you can only run here prior to 7am, after that the pollution and traffic are too prohibitive.) I had no idea we were leaving so early. I scrapped the run, changed clothes, and went to eat breakfast. Only to find that my cereal box wasn't on the shelf in the kitchen where I'd left it. I looked around, only to discover it, empty, sitting next to the trash can. Rita (our cook/odds and ends helper at the clinic) rushed in to assure me that she had nothing to do with its disappearance, and that she was afraid I would blame her. I was pretty pissed. I ate my other cereal, and then took the box to my room for protection. Then I got into Ines and Eduardo's European 1980 Land Rover for the trip. Fortunately I had brought a good book, because we then proceeded to drive around Cuzco for the next 1.5 hrs waiting for various "volunteers." At this point, Ines starts telling me about all the work that they have to do in Zurite: weeding the fields (there is no task I hate more than weeding), sewing curtains, sweeping floors, washing windows and walls of the dormitories, picking up trash from the courtyard...the list goes on. I start trying to think of an excuse to get out of the car and stay in Cuzco, but it seems too late now.
We finally hit the road, where the journey is made even more exciting by the fact that the back seat is the least comfortable seat I have ever sat in, with zero leg-room and a super-straight backed seat. Oh, and the presence of four 14-year-old volunteers from the church in the back, playing Britney Spears on their cell phone. Actually, they only have 1 Britney Spears song (Hit me Baby One More Time), which they keep replaying every other song. Other than this, the views out the window of the mountains were actually really beautiful.
Once in Zurite, I at least got to pick my only place to volunteer. I decided on the fly-infested kitchen, since I figured it would at least be fun to learn to make some Peruvian food. The Peruvian woman I helped in the kitchen was really nice, and we chatted and worked on making lunch for everyone. She has an adorable 4 1/2 year-old daughter who she wants me to teach English to, which I think I'll do if the schedule works out. After lunch it started pouring rain, so I sat in the kitchen hanging out with Eduardo, who is quite talkative. Our talk was punctuated by Ines coming to yell at us and remind us that we were supposed to be there to work as volunteers and that the gas was expensive and so on and so on, which just made Eduardo laugh and keep telling his stories about working in the Peruvian jungle with anthropologists studying a jungle tribe, and his son's quest to become a Shaman, which mostly involved him drinking some hallucinogenic jungle plant. Finally, at 6pm, after being made to walk down the hill in the mud to save Ines' tires, I was gracefully returned to Cuzco.
Since it was late, Eduardo and Ines stayed the night here again. I saw Eduardo this morning leaving the front door of the clinic, and told him I was going out for my delayed run. When I returned, Eduardo had closed the bolts on the inside of the front door. Now why on earth would you close the bolts to the door when you know that I'm outside and returning soon?? And why would you close them at 7am anyway? I think the thieves are packed up for the night. After I got back inside and showered, I went to eat breakfast. Where I found my entire carton of milk gone. Those MFs. In thanks for my volunteerism, I got my cereal and my milk stolen. Unbelievable.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Starring on Radio Salkantay (Cuzco, Peru)
I've now been in Peru for nearly 1 month so it seems like it's time to update. Things have been both good and bad and I generally haven't been sure what to write about.
The people and sights of Peru have been amazing. I've seen Lima, Cuzco, Arequipa, and Macchu Picchu. I've also done two multi-day treks, one in and out of the Colca Canyon (twice as deep as the Grand Canyon and in close competition with another canyon in Peru to be the deepest one in the world), and another trek through Salkantay pass at 4600 meters to Macchu Picchu, both of which were impressive. The canyon was really interesting because it has a desert landscape with dust and cactus, but it actually has several true oases in it. When you approach an oasis, you can be standing near a cactus but looking at lush green fields and trees, which makes for quite a cool contrast.
The canyon adventure was fun because I just left on a whim with a group of 3 Germans I met at my hostel in Arequipa 2hrs after arriving there. To set the scene: we have one 25 y/o German guy who speaks great English and decent Spanish. Two German girls just out of high school, one of which speaks good English and the other which is not at all comfortable speaking in English, neither of whom speak much Spanish. And me with good Spanish but zero German. They had decided it would be better to figure out the route/trip on our own than to hire a guide, which sounded more fun to me as well. However, the only map we had was a vague artistic representation, and the trip recommendations of some French guys who the Germans had met (note we're now operating in 4 languages). Not being sure what to do, we tried to ask some locals (only 2/4 of us can understand the responses). We also met some Germans who were doing the same thing but seemed better prepared and gave some ideas (all of which were lost on me). As you can imagine, this was quite (for lack of a better word) a clusterfuck. The first day we walked for about 6hrs, only 2-3 of which were actually in the right direction. However, miraculously we made it through and had a great time.
Salkantay (the name of a mountain and a glacier) was also really beautiful. On the first day, our group voted to skip the first 4hrs of the hike on a gravel road to see a mountain lake. The skippage part involved loading us all up in the back of a truck (standing room only) as we flew up the switchbacks of aforementioned gravel road, all for the bargain price of 5 soles each. This turned out to be nearly the entire hike that we were supposed to have done for the day. At this point Michelle surmised that we weren't going to hike at all because on every leg of the trip there was going to be some friend of the guide who could make a killing by driving us instead. But, we did walk to the mountain lake, which was absolutely unbelievable. It was a slightly opaque teal-azure blue, surrounded by glacier and snow-capped mountains which were reflecting on its surface. This part of the hike was mostly unobstructed views of beautiful mountains, with mountain horses and cows randomly grazing along the way (no fences, but apparently they all belonged to people). The following day after crossing the high Salkantay pass, we started to descend into boulder-strewn valleys and then finally into green jungle alongside a rushing river. Macchu Picchu itself was also really incredible to see. We hiked up a mountain across from it, as well as Huayna Picchu (the mountain within the complex), getting 3 different views of it, and I just hung out and wandered around Macchu Picchu for almost a whole day.
The Salkantay trek I did with a tour agency and a guide, and like all things in Peru, many things turned out to be not quite what the agency had told us. The final one of these, which we didn't find out until our last day in Macchu Picchu, was that we were on the 9:30pm train back to Cuzco, arriving at 2AM (others in the group were scattered on 5-6pm trains). We had woken up at 3:30am to start climbing up to Macchu Picchu, and were generally exhausted from hiking all day long for multiple days anyway, and by the time we got to Cuzco we were utterly exhausted. We had to take a taxi from the center to the clinic (where we live), and shoved all our backpacks and 4 selves into a tiny hatchback taxi. (Now one thing about the clinic is that there are hundreds of mysterious keys to all the different doors, as well as ways to bolt the doors from the inside. Past incidents just in my few weeks here have included a worker getting locked inside the garage for 24hrs because they didn't tell him they had changed one of the locks, Sally being locked out of the kitchen for an entire weekend, and various persons constantly being locked out at night because someone decides to bolt the front door from the inside.) Fearing we would be locked out, as usual, I jumped out of the taxi and started working on trying to get the door open (surprise: it didn't open). We then started trying to bang on the door and yell, but we figured no one was inside because everyone who lived there was on vacation. About 20 minutes later we gave up and decided we would have to go find a hotel for the night. At this point I realized that I didn't have my small backpack which I had handed to Michelle and Alyssa in the taxi since my lap was full with my big backpack which hadn't fit in the trunk. With my passport inside. And my camera. And all my pictures of the trek. Needless to say this was a bad night.
The following morning after coming home from our hotel, we came to find out that Rita (the cook) had actually been spending the night at the clinic specifically to let us in. Obviously, this was not helpful since she fell asleep with the door bolted and failed to wake up to let us in. But apparently us being locked out was our fault anyway. The clinic director had the bright idea of putting an advertisement on Radio Salkantay, which supposedly everyone in Cuzco listens to, about my lost backpack, and was certain that at the very least my passport would be returned. So, in the afternoon we headed off in search of the Radio Salkantay station where a woman who happens to come to our clinic for her healthcare took down our ad for the following morning's ad hour, and suggested that we go ask the guy who was currently broadcasting sports hour to also give a shout-out. He finally came out to talk to us during a commercial break, and decided that it would be better if he actually interviewed me on the show. So that's how I came to have a 5-minute spot on the soccer show, begging someone to please bring my backpack back. Unfortunately, whoever has my passport and my camera will not be bringing it back it seems. Some Peruvian is dying their hair blonde and moving to America. And I am stuck here to be a Cusquena forever.
The people and sights of Peru have been amazing. I've seen Lima, Cuzco, Arequipa, and Macchu Picchu. I've also done two multi-day treks, one in and out of the Colca Canyon (twice as deep as the Grand Canyon and in close competition with another canyon in Peru to be the deepest one in the world), and another trek through Salkantay pass at 4600 meters to Macchu Picchu, both of which were impressive. The canyon was really interesting because it has a desert landscape with dust and cactus, but it actually has several true oases in it. When you approach an oasis, you can be standing near a cactus but looking at lush green fields and trees, which makes for quite a cool contrast.
The canyon adventure was fun because I just left on a whim with a group of 3 Germans I met at my hostel in Arequipa 2hrs after arriving there. To set the scene: we have one 25 y/o German guy who speaks great English and decent Spanish. Two German girls just out of high school, one of which speaks good English and the other which is not at all comfortable speaking in English, neither of whom speak much Spanish. And me with good Spanish but zero German. They had decided it would be better to figure out the route/trip on our own than to hire a guide, which sounded more fun to me as well. However, the only map we had was a vague artistic representation, and the trip recommendations of some French guys who the Germans had met (note we're now operating in 4 languages). Not being sure what to do, we tried to ask some locals (only 2/4 of us can understand the responses). We also met some Germans who were doing the same thing but seemed better prepared and gave some ideas (all of which were lost on me). As you can imagine, this was quite (for lack of a better word) a clusterfuck. The first day we walked for about 6hrs, only 2-3 of which were actually in the right direction. However, miraculously we made it through and had a great time.
Salkantay (the name of a mountain and a glacier) was also really beautiful. On the first day, our group voted to skip the first 4hrs of the hike on a gravel road to see a mountain lake. The skippage part involved loading us all up in the back of a truck (standing room only) as we flew up the switchbacks of aforementioned gravel road, all for the bargain price of 5 soles each. This turned out to be nearly the entire hike that we were supposed to have done for the day. At this point Michelle surmised that we weren't going to hike at all because on every leg of the trip there was going to be some friend of the guide who could make a killing by driving us instead. But, we did walk to the mountain lake, which was absolutely unbelievable. It was a slightly opaque teal-azure blue, surrounded by glacier and snow-capped mountains which were reflecting on its surface. This part of the hike was mostly unobstructed views of beautiful mountains, with mountain horses and cows randomly grazing along the way (no fences, but apparently they all belonged to people). The following day after crossing the high Salkantay pass, we started to descend into boulder-strewn valleys and then finally into green jungle alongside a rushing river. Macchu Picchu itself was also really incredible to see. We hiked up a mountain across from it, as well as Huayna Picchu (the mountain within the complex), getting 3 different views of it, and I just hung out and wandered around Macchu Picchu for almost a whole day.
The Salkantay trek I did with a tour agency and a guide, and like all things in Peru, many things turned out to be not quite what the agency had told us. The final one of these, which we didn't find out until our last day in Macchu Picchu, was that we were on the 9:30pm train back to Cuzco, arriving at 2AM (others in the group were scattered on 5-6pm trains). We had woken up at 3:30am to start climbing up to Macchu Picchu, and were generally exhausted from hiking all day long for multiple days anyway, and by the time we got to Cuzco we were utterly exhausted. We had to take a taxi from the center to the clinic (where we live), and shoved all our backpacks and 4 selves into a tiny hatchback taxi. (Now one thing about the clinic is that there are hundreds of mysterious keys to all the different doors, as well as ways to bolt the doors from the inside. Past incidents just in my few weeks here have included a worker getting locked inside the garage for 24hrs because they didn't tell him they had changed one of the locks, Sally being locked out of the kitchen for an entire weekend, and various persons constantly being locked out at night because someone decides to bolt the front door from the inside.) Fearing we would be locked out, as usual, I jumped out of the taxi and started working on trying to get the door open (surprise: it didn't open). We then started trying to bang on the door and yell, but we figured no one was inside because everyone who lived there was on vacation. About 20 minutes later we gave up and decided we would have to go find a hotel for the night. At this point I realized that I didn't have my small backpack which I had handed to Michelle and Alyssa in the taxi since my lap was full with my big backpack which hadn't fit in the trunk. With my passport inside. And my camera. And all my pictures of the trek. Needless to say this was a bad night.
The following morning after coming home from our hotel, we came to find out that Rita (the cook) had actually been spending the night at the clinic specifically to let us in. Obviously, this was not helpful since she fell asleep with the door bolted and failed to wake up to let us in. But apparently us being locked out was our fault anyway. The clinic director had the bright idea of putting an advertisement on Radio Salkantay, which supposedly everyone in Cuzco listens to, about my lost backpack, and was certain that at the very least my passport would be returned. So, in the afternoon we headed off in search of the Radio Salkantay station where a woman who happens to come to our clinic for her healthcare took down our ad for the following morning's ad hour, and suggested that we go ask the guy who was currently broadcasting sports hour to also give a shout-out. He finally came out to talk to us during a commercial break, and decided that it would be better if he actually interviewed me on the show. So that's how I came to have a 5-minute spot on the soccer show, begging someone to please bring my backpack back. Unfortunately, whoever has my passport and my camera will not be bringing it back it seems. Some Peruvian is dying their hair blonde and moving to America. And I am stuck here to be a Cusquena forever.
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