El festival del distrito de Cusco / The Festival of the District of Cuzco

English
Dreams... What an interesting thing. Especially when mixed with the surroundings of the dreamer. As 7am rolled around on Sunday, I was awakened by the sound of orchestras playing. At first, I thought they were just warming up and would only perform for a little bit. Then I came to two realizations: they weren´t warming up—they really were that bad at playing—and they would be playing all day long because this was no ordinary Sunday; today was the feast for the district of Cusco. I tried to sleep later, as I was still pretty tired, but my dreams were mixed with the constant soundings of various instruments. I’m not sure that these Cuzqueñan orchestras had ever heard of the word “balance” when discussing music; the melody was formed by whoever could play the loudest.

I woke up around 10:30 and was served by the family. Usually, breakfast is served at 7am or so, followed by a hefty lunch at 1:30 pm and a very light dinner consisting of bread, maybe an egg, and some tea. Breakfast consists of bread and tea as well. The reason for only eating one large meal, and especially not eating heavily at night, is because your stomach cannot digest the food as well due to the elevation during the night. Therefore, if you have a late supper, you are bound to sleep poorly. Fortunately though, there is always enough bread to fill you up at evening and your body isn´t usually that hungry at night anyway.

Vilma is incredibly loving and is always smiling and chuckling. She really seems to understand foreigners and is really attentive to the needs of everyone. The school makes sure that the families know that all dinners need to be cooked and that all water that is served should be boiled prior to serving it. Sylvia, before she left, told me that she missed school one day because she had been out drinking too much the night before. Vilma was asked by the school why Sylvia never made it to school and Vilma informed them that Sylvia was “sick.” Vilma then informed Sylvia that, should the school ask, she was sick that day.

So I found myself finishing breakfast and informed Vilma that I was missing my family and mi cariña. Vilma then told me about the festival that would be going on all day, a festival for the district of Cuzco that occurs once every year, and I was able to catch it. After finishing breakfast and getting cleaned up a bit, Vilma informed me that Claus and Charlotte were going to take me around the city and visit the festival with me. Still feeling homesick, I was thankful for the company of my new Danish friends.

If there were ever a people who would know how to enjoy life and party, then Peruvians would definitely be in the top five. La Avenida de la Cultura was completely closed in the section nearest the school because there was a parade of a number of different districts of the city showing off their native dances and dress. Music was being played everywhere, and people dressed in their indigenous costumes filled the streets, performing of a variety of dances. The smell of a wide variety of dishes filled the air, including a new smell: the smell of the cuye, or guinea pig in English.

Yes that is right, roasted guinea pig filled the air. Yea, it may sound strange that an animal, or rather, a pet of many children in the States, is the national dish of this region. No, I haven´t tried one yet, but this is definitely part of my plans to fully experience Cusco.

Claus, Charlotte, and I ate at a little restaurant by the side of another plaza, where I tried a free Pisco Sour (a famous Peruvian alcoholic drink that consists in alcohol and grappa, and is incredibly sour) and ate Lomo Saltado, the same dish that my mamá had cooked for me the Saturday I arrived. Lomo Saltado consists of beef, tomatoes, onions, and French fries, on top of some rice. Talk about a new favorite!

At the end of our trek, we returned to the house with my new friends. We had a special dinner that evening that Sylvia cooked for us (ham lasagna), which was very tasty. It was Sylvia´s last evening so a bunch of people from the school, all of which are Claus and Charlotte´s friends, came over for a fiesta. Then afterwards, we all met up at a local bar called The Indigo, which is owned by a foreigner but consists of great drinks and a good atmosphere (minus the smoking).
Overall, it was a good day, and the feelings of homesick were masked by my newfound respect and love for the city of Cusco. Perhaps, I was starting to enjoy this place. Maybe I will enjoy it…

En Español
Los sueños… ¡Qué interesa los sueños! Son muy interesantes, especialmente, cuando se mezclan con el ambiente del soñador. Al llegar las siete de la mañana, me despertaron los sonidos de una orquestra que estaba sonando. Al principio, pensé que la orquestra estaba preparándose y que iban a tocar por un ratito. Entonces, me di cuenta de dos cosas: que la orquestra de verdad era tan mala, y que no iba a parar tocando por todo el día porque ese día fue el día del festival del distrito de Cusco. No obstante, intenté a dormir por unas horas más, pero mis sueños mezclaron con los sonidos del festival. No estoy seguro si la gente de la orquestra había oído de la palabra “equilibrio” cuando se habla de música, pero era obvio que no había prestado atención si hubiera aprendido la palabra. La melodía fue establecida por la persona que podía tocar lo más fuerte.

Me levanté a las 10:30 de la mañana y desayuné. Típicamente, se sirve el desayuno a las siete de la mañana, mientras se sirve el almuerzo grandísimo a la uno de la tarde y la cena a las siete de la noche. El almuerzo es la comida más grande del día mientras que las otras dos consisten en pan y té. La razón que se come una cena grande es que el cuerpo, particularmente, el estómago, no puede digerir la comida debido a la altura alta. Por eso, la cena simplemente consiste en comer pan y tomar té. Si comieras una cena grande, sería probable que no durmieras bien durante esa la noche. Afortunadamente, generalmente no tengo hambre porque el cuerpo no quiere comer mucho al llegar la noche.

Vilma es tan cariñosa y muy atenta a las necesidades de los extranjeros. Es verdad que la escuela se asegura que las familias saben que tienen que preparar la comida bien y sólo sirven el agua para beber que ha sido hervida. Además, Sylvia me explicó antes de salir que un día la escuela le ha contactado a Vilma para preguntar por qué Sylvia no había estado presente en la escuela ese día. Vilma le dijo que Sylvia se enfermó mientras la razón real era que Sylvia había tomado demasiado alcohol la noche anterior. Vilma dijo a Sylvia que, si le preguntara, Sylvia debería decirle que ella había estado muy enferma.

Pues, terminé el desayuno y le informé a Vilma que yo añoraba mucho a mi familia y a mi novia cariñosa. Vilma me respondió que había un festival para el distrito de Cusco, un festival que sólo ocurre una vez cada año y yo tuve la suerte de verlo, y que las fiestas iban a durar todo el día. Me fui para limpiarme y Vilma regresó a decirme que Claus y Charlotte iban a acompañarme a ver a todas las fiestas. Estoy seguro que ella les dijo para que yo no sintiera tan solo. No obstante, aunque todavía yo extrañaba mucho a mi familia y a mi novia, me agradecía mucho que tuviera la amistad de mis nuevos amigos dinamarqués.

Si existiera una gente que supieran festejar y disfrutar la vida, entonces los peruanos serían de la cinco gente más mejor. La avenida la cultura fue completamente bloqueado para que los carros no pudieran manejar por eses calles. Había un tablado para los grupos de música que estaba muy cerca de mi casa en la Plaza de Wenchaq, lo cual puede ver desde mis ventanas. Había mucha gente indígena que está en la ciudad, vestido de su ropa nativa. La gente formó grupos en las calles que se parecían mucho a un desfile. Bailaron, cantaron, tocaron música indígena y disfrutaron todas las personas que estaban en las calles, especialmente los que se participaron en el desfile y las danzas indígenas. El olor de varias comidas llenó el aire y se pudo oler un olor fuerte y diferente: el olor de la cuye, la cual es la comida nacional de Perú.

Sí, me oyeron bien ustedes. La cuye asado es la comida nacional de Perú. Sí, es un poco extraño oír que un animal, o sea, una mascota que tienen muchos niños en los Estados Unidos, es la comida nacional en esta comarca. No, no la he probado todavía, pero es parte de mis planes de experimentar Cuzco completamente.

Claus, Charlotte y yo almorzamos en un restaurante que está situada en una de las plazas múltiples, donde probé un Pisco Sour (una bebida nativa de Cusco que consiste en alcohol y el pisco, lo cual es muy amargo) y comí el Lomo Saltado, la misma comida que me sirvió mi mamá al llegar en Perú. Lomo Saltado se basa en una mezcla de la carne, el arroz, los tomates, las cebollas picadas y las papas fritas. ¡Qué sabrosa esa comida nueva!

Al fin de nuestro paseo por la ciudad de Cusco, regresamos a casa. Esa noche, tuvimos una cena preparada por Sylvia para despedirle a Sylvia. Ella sirvió su lasaña famosa y todos sus amigos de la escuela que asisto ahora vinieron para festejar un poco. Después de alimentarnos, nos reunimos en un bar local que se llama “El Índigo” y nos divertimos por un rato. El Índigo consiste en bebidas buenas y es de un extranjero. Por eso, toda la comida es segura para comer y todas las bebidas son preparadas con el agua embotellada.

En su mayor parte, el día le pasó bien, y los sentimientos de extrañar a mi familia y mi novia no eran tan fuertes como al principio del viaje. Quizás yo comenzara a disfrutar de la ciudad de Cusco. Tal vez la ciudad vaya a gustarme…

Saturday and then some / El Sábado y más...

From here on out, I am going to be writing in both Spanish and English. Don't worry, they both say the same thing, this is just a great way for me to expand on my Spanish and try to use it a little more. For this reason, I will probably be behind on blogging until this weekend or later.

English
The taxi ride to Vilma´s house, mi new Cusqueñan mother, was the craziest thing that I have ever done in my life. I don´t think that neither speed limits nor laws exist to protect people who ride in taxis. The roads have no lines to mark qhere you are supposed to drive, and even if there where lines, the taxi drivers don´t pay attention to them. I have to say that I was a little frightened and by the taxi ride. They use their horns to signal to other drivers that they are about to cut them off. Consequently, I was always thinking we were on the brink of crashing with another car. Finally, though, we arrived at Vilma´s house, or rather, at her apartment.

The apartment seemed much better than the others I had seen. Vilma explained to me that this apartment belongs to her daughter. She lives on the sixth floor. Upon entering the elevator, Vilma told me that you have to press the buttons in a special order in order to get to the sixth floor. It was much like a James Bond movie. The correct code consists in pressing the sixth floor, followed by two, three, and finally six again. How strange!

I met some other students who were living with Vilma, one of which, Sylvia—a Brazillian girl—left this past Tuesday. The other two people were a couple from Denmark, named Claus (pronounced like “k-laos”) who had already been there for five weeks. After eating lunch, I slept after hearing the advice of Claus, Charlotte, Syliva, and the rest of my new family.
The family, with which I now lived, consists of three people: Vilma, Liliana (a 19-year old girl who is studying business administration) and a lady whose name I can´t remember. They are incredibly nice and will not let me help with any of the chores.

Saturday was very hard for me, especially after such a long plane ride. I missed all of my family and mi quierida. When you find yourself in a new situation, where all of the comforts that you are used to are removed from your possession, you can only feel incredibly alone. I was neither able to call my parents nor send texts to my favorite person. I kept thinking I would receive one of those special text messages that I always waited for back home… At this point, I had lost all hope of enjoying this trip, but everything changed when Sunday arrived thanks to the friendship of Claus and Charlotte.


En Español
Por adelante, voy a redactar este blog en Español y en Íngles. No se preocupen, los dos hablan de los mismos temas. Sólo quiero usar más mi español para que yo pueda mejorar mi español. Por resultado de escribir en dos lenguas, voy a quedarme un poco restrasado en mis blogs, pero espero alcanzar todo lo que he experimentado al llegar este fin de semana...

El viaje por taxi a la casa de Vilma, mi mamá cusqueña mientras estoy en Perú, era lo más loco de todas las cosas que he hecho en mi vida. Creo que no existen limitos y leyes para proteger a la gente que está en un taxi. No hay líneas para distinguir los lados diferentes de las calles, y si existen las líneas, el conductor no pudo verlas. Tengo que decir que el viaje por taxi me asustó un poco. Se usa la bocina del carro para señalar a los otros conductores que vamos a pasar en frente de los otros carros. Por eso, siempre yo pensaba que estábamos a punto de chocar con otro coche. Por fin, llegamos a la casa, o sea, el departamento de la casa de Vilma. El departamento me parecía más bueno que los otros que yo había visto. Vilma me explicó que todo el departamento pertenece a su hija. Vilma vive en el sexto piso del edificio peruano. Al entrar en el ascensor, Vilma me dijo que hay que pulsar los botones correctos para llegar al sexto piso; era como un código especial en una película de James Bond. El código correcto consiste en pulsar los números de los pisos seis, dos, tres y por fin el número seis otra vez más. Si no se hace el código, no se va a llegar al sexto piso por ascensor. ¡Qué raro!

Conocí a otras estudiantes que ya se quedaban en la habitación de Vilma. Sylvia, una brasileña, acaba de salir para Brasil el martes después de que había llegado. Las otras dos personas son una pareja de Dinamarca, y se llaman Charlotte y Claus. Ya estuvieron en Perú por cinco semanas cuando llegué. Después de almorzar, me dormí según los consejos de Claus, Charlotte, Sylvia y toda my familia nueva.

La familia con que convivo, son tres: Vilma, Liliana (una chica de 19 años que estudia la administración de las empresas) y una mujer cuyo nombre todavía no sé. Ellos son amables y siempre no me permiten que yo ayude con los quehaceres.

El sábado era muy difícil, especialmente después de un viaje largo por avión. Todo el día les extraño a mi familia y mi querida. Cuando estás en una situación nueva, donde todas los lujos de su vida anterior se han sido quitados, sólo puedes sentir sólo y tener un poco miedo de lo que vaya a pasar. No pude llamar a mis padres y no pude enviar mensajes de texto a mi persona favorita. Seguía pensando que iba a recibir el mensaje que siempre yo estaba esperando. Sin embargo, nunca llegaron los mensajes... He pérdida todas las esperanzas de gozar ese viaje, pero al llegar el domingo, todo cambió gracias a la amistad de Claus y Charlotte.

El Viaje--The Trip

So here I begin, sitting in an internet cafe, typing away my first blog. I have so much to write about after three days but I have decided that I am going to spread it out because I am getting worn out right now doing all of this typing. This blog, correctly entitled "The Trip" is going to attempt to paint the picture of my entire trip to Cusco, because it was VERY interesting.
My trip began early Friday morning, at around 4am. After finally getting through security at Riverton´s finest airport (no sarcasm intended, right?) I boarded the plain where I sat next to a Native American man who began talking with me. I mentioned that I was going to Peru and he started to detail out an ancient prophecy that he, and all of the tribes of this hemisphere, are taking part in. There is a great prophecy that explains "when the eagle and condor fly together, there will be a great time of peach and unity." The eagle represents the North American tribes while the condor is the symbol of the Peruvian tribes. Every four years, a great peace run is conducted where tribes begin in Alaska and literally run all the way to Peru, stopping at various tribes. The hope is that this will bring the peace and unity that the prophecy asks for. It was a wonderful experience to share this great story with such an amazing man. We also discussed alternative and Western medicine, which I love the idea of blending culture, traditional medicines, and Western medicine.

After my flight landed in Denver, I was able to spend some time with my parents until I had to part and await my flight to Houston, which ended up being an hour and a half delayed. Fortunatley, I had my baggage checked all the way to Lima, Peru, although I had bought two separate tickets: one from Riverton to Denver, and the rest from Denver to Cusco. On the flight to Houston, the lady at the counter gave me a spot right by the front exits (which meant I had no seats in front of me and plenty of leg room) so that I could make it to my next flight in time. The man sitting next to me unfortunately had a flight to Beliz (which of course reminded me of someone special) but he had to get his baggage and try to catch his flight in around 30 minutes thanks to the delay we had experienced in Denver. The delay was due to an airplane problem (comforting, I know...). I doubt he made it, but as you can imagine, they don´t have many flights to Beliz every day. I had to re-check through security in Houston, which consisted of HUGE lines of 150 or more people in front of me. The lady at the beginning of the que line was allowing some people to cut in front of the line. I had been in the line for 10 minutes and tried to ask the lady if there was anything I could do, because my flight to Lima was leaving in around 40 minutes, and the line was quite large. The short African American lady, upon asking her a question, simply shook her head before I could finish and give me an up-and-down look as if I was a stupid over¡-privledged white man. Perhaps I am spoiled, but I was really trying to be nice. She wouldn´t even listen or respond to me. I asked her if I´d make my flight and she nastily responded that I probably wouldn´t (she was wrong.). So much for Southern Hospitality... When I get back, I am going to try out my new Peruvian Spanish slang on her I think... jokes...

Finally, I boarded my flight to Lima, where I was luckily seated between two females of my own age. One girl, Kady, was with a doctor and a group that was going to Peru to do clinical work. The other girl, Nicole, was going to Peru by herself and was doing an internship near Cusco. Together, we all had a great time, enjoying the touch-screens that are placed before each passenger in the back of the head rest of every seat. You can choose between a plethora of tv shows, movies, music, and games to help you pass the time. Finally, after a great flight (6 hours of fun) we landed in Lima where the health officials gave us the okay to exit the plane. Every Peruvian airport official had masks on in light of the Swine Flu. Then, Nicole, Kady, and I checked through customs and left to get our baggage. Now comes the interesting part....

Have you ever wondered how animals feel in zoos? Let´s just say I have a new empathy for those creatures. After bypassing customs, (they have you push a button that I think randomly selects people to be checked by customs--very secure, I know) we entered the exit of the airport. Before us was a large area, enclosed and encircled by que line rope. Hundreds of Peruvians stood before us, many of which were holding signs with people´s names on them. We walked into the center where Nicole and I looked for her name (she was being picked up in Lima). I used my Spanish to the best of my knowledge although a few people knew English well. We were on Latino American time, which translated into a 45 minute wait until Nicole´s ride showed up. It was unnerving because we just kept walking around in this closed off area, while Peruvians surrounded us with signs, held back by nylon que lines.

With a final hug, Nicole departed and the loneliness and strange feelings began setting in. I am alone. All alone, I thought to myself. I asked a guy to help me because I had to re-check in. He took my luggage on a small cart and led me through las muchedumbres--the crowds-- safely. Then I learned my first lesson in bartering. He asked for una propina--a tip. It was only supposed to be three dollars but he ended up with eight somehow. I don´t know how that happened.

I proceded to re-check in for my flight to Cusco, Peru. The lady behind the counter told me that I could procede to the second floor but I had to wait until 4:55 in the morning to check in. So I walked, free of my heavy checked bag, and only loaded down by my small carry-on. I meandered around upstairs for some minutes, feeling the loneliness set in. I couldn´t call anyone, not Erin, not my Mom, nor my Dad. I was cut off completely. Well, I could have called them but it would have cost a ton because I was in an airport, where everything is EXPENSIVE, even in Peru. Mind you it was approximately 12am at this point, central time.

I finally found a chapel where, for the first time a good time, I sat down in a religous place and prayed. Why was I here? Was I this crazy? I can´t wait for these two months to pass! These are the thoughts that crowded my very exhausted mind. I finished quickly and wandered around, changed my money into the Nuevo Sol (the Peruvian currency) and went to do my business in the restroom. Now I know that God/the Universe must have a sense of humor, but this next part of the story really made me a believer and the universal truth that we call "Divine Humor." Mind you, if you are looking for a good laugh but have recently had a hernia operation, I don´t think you should read this next part.

So I locked myself away in a stall where I decided to relax my stomach and do my business. Finally, after some nice quiet minutes of doing my business, I decided it was time to "clean up." I reached down to the toilet paper (which I now know is called papel higénico) to find, to my complete utter astonishment, that there was absolutely NO toilet paper. I began to sweat as the realization set in. What was I going to do? I had heard that complete immersion experiences were the best way to learn Spanish, but I didn´t think my Spanish would be tested by having to look for more toilet paper.

I sat there, all of my years of quietly thinking problem solving being placed to the test. Finally, the verdict was in. I had two options: I could pull up my trousers, walk to another stall and try to clean up. OR, I could do the hop. I know that all of you know what I am talking about to one extent or another. The "hop" involves very strategic planning. One must plan for all pitfalls, and understand the concepts of physis very well. If you do not hop with both feet together then you face the chance of facing a terrible pitfall. However, if you don´t take care of your pants, you may find yourself landing on your pants, slipping, and crashing into humiliation. So here it was. I quietly opened the door to the stall and peered out towards the sinks. No one. But what if someone came in? The voice of reason in my head entered and told me, "Now or never, gringo. What do you have to lose? You are a gringo in Peru. A gringo from the USA. No one will judge you. Sides, you may bring a much-needed smile and a great show of white to some unexpected traveler or airport worker." I took a deep breath and I lean forward.

Then the toilet began to flush, splahsing a little bit of overspray onto my...well, you know! It stopped, then flushed again as if screaming at me to leave. Finally, sick of the splash of cold Peruvian toilet water, I quickly slid my carry-on baggage under to the next stall and began hopping out of the stall carefully concentrating on all physics. This is when I realized I was in the women´s bathroom... Jokes! The flight went well and I made it to my destination with a good, but rather bumpy, landing. And to my great relief, there was toilet paper. The horror was over. All I could do was laugh. God had relieved me of my loneliness for at least 15 minutes, ending it all with a good laugh. I could hear the universe whispering¨"It could be so much worse. Go placidly amid the noise and haist and remember to laugh at yourself a lot!"

After the toilet fiasco of May 23, 2009, I was exhausted and finally found a spot in Starbucks to curl up and sleep. There were some small lazy boy chairs that they had but they were full with weary travelers as well. I curled up on the floor, lazily finding comfort in the soft piano sounds of David Nevue. I turned on my cell phone, which switched to roaming. My watch copped out on me, so I needed a great way to wake myself up so I wouldn´t miss my flight. I turned off the wireless part of my phone so it was only a device for time, etc., and wouldn´t roam anymore. Finally, a chair opened and I moved, trying to find some solace in a few hours of mediocre dreams. I dreamt of home. I dreamt of the parts of my life that have become so incredibly desirable and important during this last semester.

I woke up and boarded my flight after paying an Airport fee ($10) to get into the country. Then I boarded the flight to Cusco where I watched the plane exit the Lima Airport where thousands of lights glittered below. I watched the Andes float below, unable to enjoy any sleep as the sun quietly rose beyond the soft white clouds. When we approached Cusco, I saw what appeared to be a city of shambles. My despair grew. This was not going to be fun. But I knew I had to give in and believe that all would be well. I didn´t know yet.

I exited the plane and went to claim my baggage, a feat that would test my lungs greatly since I was now at 11,500 feet in altitude. To my great amazement, there was a small band consisting of a guitarist, a mandolin (I think?), a drum and a Peruvian Pan Pipe. I must say, it was the most beautiful music that I had heard in a while.
I collected my luggage and left outside where a group of cusqueñans quietly awaited with signs for people. An hour passed and I was the only one left and my host mom wasn´t there. I left the gated area after convsering with the gatekeeper to find a bottle of water and use the restroom. With what little Soles I had left, I bought a bottle of water and felt despair sink in. Luckily I had the information of my host mom, including her address and phone numbers. Then a taxi driver once again approached me. He had asked me earlier if I needed a ride and I explained I had a family coming. However, he stayed with me, patiently waiting. He then helped me dial the number from a pay phone and I spoke with my host mom´s housekeeper (I think). My host mom was coming (I would find out that the school hadn´t given her my new flight times and she was coming at 8:40 although my flight landed at 7am). I continued talking with the taxi driver, who complimented me on my Spanish. Finally, my sweet host mom (or rather host grandma), Vilma, arrived in a taxi to take me home. I gave my thanks to the Taxi driver, but he had already turned, saying that there was no reason to thank him. God bless him. He was a lifesaver.
And now began my Cusqueñan adventure...