jorge and the tounge twisters

What a day as Jorge sighed whilst we looked out over the sea and the fields of banana plants and cotton, "this is one of those moments". We had just had to roll our trousers up remove oue shoes and flip flops and climb up the side of an ancient mud brick pyramid. Jorge was dressed in a smart shirt and trousers as he had had to present his documents at the municiplaity in the morning, the sight of him clambering up the structure with the dust swirling was wonderful.

I had set off for Chinca in the morning catching a local bus full of people with large bags off to market. For the hour bus drive we entered the fertile valley filled with fields of cotton and asparagas. The cotton piled high at the sides of the road old men and young children alike resting on the piles mopping their brows in the incresing heat. In chinca I decided to explore the meet market, insides of all animals hanging from small stalls and covered in swarming flies. When I came out blinking in the sunlight I was immediately approached by Jorge, a 24 year old student in his final year of studying English keen to practice. He alerted me to the fact that my Lonely Planet guide was guiding me in the wrong direction as all the places I wanted to see had been destroyed in the earth quake so we decided he would show me "how people really live in my city". He took me to the outskirts where he took documents to the local government building to prove that his home had been destroyed in the earthquake and to try and get some aid that the government has now released. He then took me to a small shrine to the saint of Chinca where I wrote a small message on the mud walls alongside all the Spanish messages asking for miracles.

We stopped at a small fruit stall where we bought a gorgeous small rd fruit with such a sweet flavour. Jorge took me to meet his cousins and aunt all who live in a reed mat shack. The mud outside the opening into their tiny space was well swept and cared for, pride and dignity remaining despite terrible conditions.

We toured the city, popping into houses of Jorges friends so I could be introduced. We stopped for a late lunch and then onto the pyramid. Unfortunately my camara ran out of batteries before we reached the amazing structures so I will just have to try and explain. We took a taxi which dropped us some distance from the mud hills rising out of the neat fields. We walked down a track with laege bamboo on either side. We met a family working clearing some branches. The father hunched and wringled beckoned and led the way across some fields of maize and through some woods to his small shack cows tied outside and small puppy bouncing at our heels.

The only other observer of the ancient pyramids was a small grey owl who watched our comic ascent.

I travelled back to Pisco tired but happy my head filled with what I had seen who I had met and trying to answer Jorges question what was the origin of the English tounge twister?