Don't Compare

I haven't cried in about two weeks! After five months living in Peru, it appears I may have finally made it over the hump. Kiko and I were walking the dogs and I was making my usual observations and running commentary. If you know me at all, you know that I have a critical eye, a "hawkeye", if you will. I used to have a proofreading/editing business to utilize that special talent. But having a critical eye can backfire when the negative is all you see. I was pointing out to Kiko that even though we live in a pretty nice neighborhood, it's full of graffiti, dirty buildings with peeling paint, chipped concrete steps and broken sidewalks. He asked me why I focus on those things? Well, it's what I do, because from there I try to analyze WHY things are the way they are. And then my very smart husband said, "This is a developing country. You can't compare it with the U.S., and if you continue to do so, you'll continue to be unhappy here."

Wow.

Well I didn't act like "wow" when he told me, I waited until later, when I was alone and had a chance to process what he said. And after some analysis, I determined that he was right. I haven't told him that either, he's going to find out when he reads this post. But it makes complete sense. The so-called negative things that I tend to notice would be quaint and interesting and different if I was just visiting a place, but since I was now living among the things I judged to be "bad", I saw things differently. I'm not a risk-taker. I don't like to gamble unless it's with fake money or M&M'S, and I have no desire to jump out of a plane. I'm an only child, I could stay inside my house, reading and listening to the rain for days. I do love to travel, and experience new things - I need variety. But traveling with a return ticket is completely different from living in another country. I honestly have had five months of ups and downs, with the downs including depression, anxiety, loneliness, sadness. It's not easy to up and move across the globe, leaving your home, family, friends, and church behind...basically everything you know. I've always known that living in Peru would be an adventure as well as an opportunity, but I think I made it harder than it had to be. I was focused on the negative, comparing and contrasting everything here with everything in the U.S. I had happy moments, but I wasn't happy. But I get it now, it's all about perspective, and attitude.

Anyhoo, I must say that things have been better since I changed my perspective and made an attitude adjustment. That, and meeting new people. I joined a meet-up group at about the same time as my transformation. Many members of the group are Peruvians who lived in the U.S. and have returned to Peru, like my husband. Most speak both English and Spanish, and have experienced both countries in a way that I can relate to. They are all really nice, and it's been fun getting to know them at a rum tasting, reggae night, and cocktail party. And I'm meeting new friends through an expat site on Facebook, and getting to know more of Kiko's cousins and a niece. Of course I really miss everyone back home, but I'm so grateful and excited to get out there and make connections with people in Lima, where I currently live. Which brings me back full circle to Kiko, who started it all. 

Thanks for the adventure, the opportunity, and the coaching lesson Kiko. You are beyond compare =)

Road Trip to the Andes July 2011 - Part Dos

Friday morning we had our breakfast and met up with the rest of the family at the plaza de armas. Two more of Kiko's cousins and their families joined the party, and we had primo Roberto and his girlfriend Cha Cha (such a cute nickname for Roxana!) ride with us since we had room in the van. We followed the big, black truck with primo Alex, his wife Leila, and kids on our two hour journey up the mountain to the Laguna de Paron, the largest and most beautiful glacial lake in the Cordillera Blanca ("white range", a part of the Andes mountain range). In the Cordillera Blanca, there are 33 peaks of at least 18,040 feet high! And we drove up this mountain range on a single lane dirt road, only going up, for two hours. Kiko and I popped our anti-altitude sickness pills and hoped for the best. 

First we saw fields of pink and red carnations, then other types of crops. There was a farmer with a wooden plow pulled by a pair of large, black oxen (well, I think they were oxen, what IS an ox?). There were women and young girls working in the fields, weeding and harvesting, and burros laden with the fruits of their labor. There were lots of animals - sheep, cows, pigs, and dogs...always dogs (even when we were in the middle of nowhere we would see a random dog where we least expected it). The road got more steep, and every so often we would come to a small settlement with a few houses lined up next to each other. The adobe buildings were only painted on the front side, and in order to paint over the handmade bricks, a layer of mud had to be wiped over the surface. There would be people resting near their animals, and they would wave to us as we drove by, kicking up dust from our tires. Often there would be people with big bags full of unknown goods, standing on the side of the road waiting for a ride. I became facinated with Andean fashion, especially the hats. No straw with fake flowers here! The mamachas in this region wore really tall hats made of wool, usually a shade of brown, with a distinctive design made of ribbon on one side. Either that, or a tall, plain straw hat. The people are quite short by American standards, and I wonder if wearing a tall hat has any significance besides just fashion?

Anyway, we finally made it to the top of the road, and made several interesting discoveries. First, that there were a lot of people with the same idea that we had. Second, that their vehicles were all parked on the side of the one lane road, which wasn't big enough to HAVE a side. Both Kiko and Alex did some incredible maneuvering when they backed in to their "spaces". We walked up the road next to the long row of micros, taxis and other vehicles and found ourselves at a festival with lots of people. There were women selling clothing, souvenirs, and food - corn on the cob, potatoes, fruit. And then we discovered why there was so much going on. We had happened upon a grand celebration of the lake! It was so cool to hear Andean flute and drum music, see the traditional dress, a beautiful queen, a large procession down to the lake and a ceremony where the dignitaries rowed out onto the lake and threw in an offering of fruits, vegetables and herbs. It felt like we were back in another time. 

We took a little walk on a path above the pristine, turquoise lake. The dirt path changed into a narrow, rocky path, and If we had  kept walking, the path would have led us to the base camp of Artesonraju, 13,944 feet above sea level. The elevation of the peak itself is 19,767 ft! The sun was warm but the air a little chilly as we looked across the lake at the jagged, white-capped peaks. Local boys were passing us going the other direction carrying big blocks of ice cut from the glacier. Two young girls passed us on their way back home. They had lead their cows along this rocky path to graze somewhere beyond our sight. We asked them how long of a walk they had, and they told us two hours to take the cows out and two hours to return, but since they spoke mostly quechua (the indigenous language) we don't know if we were really talking about the same thing. We sat for awhile on rocks at the side of the path, in the quiet serenity of the breathtaking view of God's creation.

Unfortunately, not everyone experienced this peace. Some members of Alex's family had altitude sickness, but they couldn't move their truck because of all the vehicles blocking any possible way out. It was actually an alarming situation to be in, and although there was an emergency crew they didn't even have any oxygen. Really! When enough cars had gone, we decided to try our luck. Rudy walked backwards in front of the van, directing Kiko who had to drive within centimeters of vehicles on one side and the cliff on the other. The side mirrors had to be retracted! Kind of dicey, but we made it thanks to Rudy's precise hand motions amd my husband's awesome driving ability! When we finally got down the hill, we stopped at a charming restaurant for a late lunch of fresh trucha (trout) pulled from the restaurant's own pools. Delicious! Then back to our bungalow for a nap before heading out again for pizza at a cute place in town. On our way back from dinner, Kiko and I followed the loud music we heard and ended up at a random outdoor dance. It was fun dancing to live salsa music under the stars in a little town in the Andes!

Saturday we had our usual breakfast and met up to caravan home. There was a little problem though...Kiko was sick. We think it was the aji salsa he put on his corn at the lake festival. Poor guy, it's no fun to have food poisoning, especially on a windy roadtrip. He had to go back to the car when we stopped for a short tour at Yungay. This was the site of a tragic landslide which occured after a major earthquake in 1970. The highest peak In Peru, Huascaran, lost part of its north side, which broke off, causing 80 million cubic feet of ice, mud and rock to bear down on the towns of Yungay and Ranrahirca, burying absolutely everything. The site of this tragedy was originally void of life except for the tops of four palm tress which were in the plaza de armas. Today, grass covers the ground, there is a garden of beautiful roses, and several monuments to memorialize what happened. We saw before and after photos, and it felt so strange to be actually walking on top of the former town we saw in the pictures.


Rudy took over driving duties, and we were making good time when another little issue came up - a blow out coming out of a downhill curve. Kiko and Rudy changed the tire, Maritere rearranged the trunk and I flagged down cars that were racing around the curve so they wouldn't hit us. Kiko felt a bit better after the manual labor. Roberto and Cha Cha followed us the rest of the way down the mountain, and we were able to get the tire fixed in Barranca, where we said goodbye to the cousins. We had a nice dinner in a little restaurant while watching the U.S. 18 year old women play international volleyball in a tournament in Peru (more randomness!), then drove the rest of the way back to Lima.


We arrived home early enough on Saturday night to pick up the dogs, and as much as we wanted to see them we made the not so difficult decision of waiting until Sunday morning. We knew they would be worked up about coming home, and we wanted a bit of peace and quiet. It's tiring to go on vacation! 

Road Trip to the Andes July 2011 - Part 1

I know a road trip entails lots of driving, and you get to see things you wouldn't see if you were on a plane, and we did see many wonderful and interesting things, but still. It was A LOT of driving. 


We packed up the van, and dropped off the dogs at 7:30am on Wednesday. They stayed with a friend of Kiko's who lives in a house with a yard and a park out front. We felt really good about leaving them in such good care. After picking up our traveling companions, primo Rudy, his enamorada and my pilates instructor Maritere, and our sobrino Mariano, we headed out of the city in the morning traffic. ABBA seemed like a good choice to start the road trip with, and we were all in happy anticipation of our four day adventure. 


Our first (unscheduled) stop was at Lomas de Lachay, a national reserve in the desert foothills north of Lima. Kiko saw the bright green foothills and wanted to show me the beautiful and unusual landscape. You would never know anything like this could exist in the middle of the desert - it is a unique microclimate with verdant flora, a variety of birds and small animals. (Note: When Kiko took Allie here in September '10, they saw a puma!) We hiked up the trail a little bit, saw a large bird of prey and a strange flying insect, and took some pictures.
































Our next stop was in the province of Barranca, where we delivered our nephew and said "hola" to primo Alex and family who would be joining us the following day in Caraz. The only other stops after Barranca were for bathroom breaks because we had brought our lunch and lots of snacks in the car. There was so much to see! Patches of vegetables drying in the sun - purple and red peppers, and orange corn. Black cactus growing out of the rocks. Mamachas (Andean matriarchs) wearing pretty straw hats with multicolored fake flowers on them and layers of multicolored skirts. Sheep grazing on the plains with the jagged peaks of the snow-covered mountains in the background. The thing about driving in the Andes is that the road goes up and down, and up and down, and up...a lot. Mostly up. I had to focus on breathing because I have a tendency to unwittingly hold my breath and the altitude was pretty thin. 

We arrived at our headquarters around 4:30 with the headaches we got while driving on the windy road through the mountains. After a restful nap, we enjoyed the delicious dinner prepared by Rudy and Maritere, then went into the little town of Caraz to check out the pre-holiday celebration. Thursday, July 28, would be Peru's independence day (like our fourth of July) as well as the inauguration of the new president, and there was a band in the plaza de armas in the center of town playing Andean huayno music while little children sang on the stage. Back at our bungalow, we fell asleep to the distant sounds of the provincial party.


Thursday we had breakfast in the little cafe where we were staying. Un desayuno Americano    consists of jugo, which is often papaya juice, cafe, fresh pan with butter and jam, and huevos. With snacks and CDs, we began our day trip to the pre-Colombian ruins of Chavin de Huantar. After a stop in the town of Huaraz to drink coffee, buy chuyos (the Peruvian hats that cover your ears) and take a picture with some crazy, costumed llamas, we drove three hours over the worst roads I've ever been on. Kiko and our poor van did their best with the longest stretch of the biggest potholes on the windiest road you can imagine! And there were no "services" so the bathroom was a big rock on the side of the road. Even singing "Disco Hits from the 70's" wasn't helping very much! It was so annoying, because just when we thought we'd have a short respite from the teeth-jarring, body-slamming potholes, there would be another one right in front of us! 

But we finally made it to the ruins, which the Chavin culture began building around 1300 BC. It was very cool to see the archeology students from Stanford University working with their little brushes and sifting boxes. We hired a guy to give us a tour, and spent the next hour and a half learning about the site of the ancient spiritual pilgrimage where people from all over South America came to seek answers from the shamanes. Apparently this place invented the "rave"! They put on quite a show with a complicated natural lighting and sound system, and underground channels which they used to divert the river to create blow holes adding to the special effects. These things, along with the hallucinogenic drugs ayahuasca and san pedro, provided an intense mystical experience. The Chavin people also built underground galleries with ventilation and natural light where the shamanes would eat lavish meals and take their drugs, preparing themselves for their ceremonies. Although I felt claustrophobic in the narrow tunnels, it felt incredible to be in a place built such a long time ago. 

After our tour, Rudy became the driver and we quickly started the painful drive back. It was impossible to sleep, all we could do was close our eyes which helped them from jumping out of their sockets. We ate soup in Huaraz, and put our weary bodies to bed as soon as we got back to our bungalow in Caraz. My back hurt, and I was so tired from the long, uncomfortable drive and the high-altitude walking tour that I don't remember any nightmares of being stuck in underground tunnels with crazed, glassy-eyed shamanes!