I am sitting in Lima airport lounge weighed down by bags of heavy Peruvian goodies and also by a heavy heart. I have had a day of goodbyes proceeded by an unforgettable goodbye party. Gian Carlos Vladimir and Rodolfo have just left me to fend for myself in the airport after being my Peruvian guides for two months I am sure they will be glad of a rest from my insistant chatter. I am so sad to be leaving making a final trip to the beach today where I sat sadly with Wily Robert Manuel and Doc and watched as the waves pounded the shore the sun beating down surrounded by friends I had to really remember why I was going home. I have made many promises of returning soon but dont know how realistic these are as I am to begin studying in September. I hope very much to return especially to Lima where I really feel settled and could indulge in a few months more of being "dancing and surfing queen" as I was so hailed last night.
Well let me do a little round up of the latest happenings since my return from Pisco. Well I quickly settled back in to Lima life of seeing friends, surfing and visiting the sights of the city. Vladi and I took a nice trip to see the huge dusty and sandy desert site of Patuchamac just outside Lima. Two explorers we climbed to pyramids giving us a great view across the lima valley and to the sea. Vladi has also been a guide taking me to the Inka markets and bargening on all the brilliant and colourful things I have bought without his help I think I would have been severely Gringoed!
Apart from the above I have been idle enjoying just sitting and chatting with friends meeting people on the beach such as Ross and his Peruvian dancer friend with whom I indulged in mid afternoon pisco sours and cocktails before having to visit the super market feeling rather tight as your grandmother might say and cooking up a meal for the Peruvian guys to say thanks for all they have done for me. Nazzer and I making up the British contingent of our group of friends decided upon a simple and fool proof meal of bangers and mash to give the guys a taste of our home. I needed the help and guidance of Deliha as my yorkshire pudding was less than successful but they were not to know!
And now here I am hardly able to believe that I am soon to be at home drinking tea with fresh milk again and able to understand what is going on around me without having to strain to hear the few words of Spanish I know.
Well I think I must go now as soon I will be in the air far above the country which I have grown to love.
Saturday, 24 May 2008
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
chocolate milkshakes and shivering in the park
I am back in Lima, suddenly I became aware of how in Pisco my eyes were constantly scanning the ground for obstacles, deep holes uncovered, dogs sleeping in the road, sewage and rubbish. In lima I can walk with a purpose and a speed that I had had to cast aside in Pisco.
The last morning in Pisco was spent searching for a bottle of Pisco that was finally purchased from an old lady in the main sqaure selling all manner of bottles from her small stand. She sat under a small parasole and calmly refused to accept any of my haggling knowing that local would win over gringo. However afterwards I realised that the bottle had only cost me about four pounds. It was then a trip to the police station with my friend Gary who had lost his wallett the day before. When I say police station images of a building may be conjured up, no such structure exists in the ruins of Pisco. Instead the policemen dressed like soldiers wonder around the square, based around three small garden shead sized wood huts. They use old type writters and whatever was salvaged from the wreakage sits about them, dusty riot sheilds lean against rusty filing cabinets.
My bus journey back to Lima was uneventful apart from some cavalier over taking by our driver that resulted in arriving early back into Lima. In the evening I met up with friends at a cafe. Nazzer had returned to Lima with tales of his time spent in Cuzco and Arequipa. We sat drinking coffee and chocolate all exchanging stories of our weeks apart.
It felt good to be returning to somewhere where I have friends I could quite happily spent much more time here I just need to learn some Spanish!
The last morning in Pisco was spent searching for a bottle of Pisco that was finally purchased from an old lady in the main sqaure selling all manner of bottles from her small stand. She sat under a small parasole and calmly refused to accept any of my haggling knowing that local would win over gringo. However afterwards I realised that the bottle had only cost me about four pounds. It was then a trip to the police station with my friend Gary who had lost his wallett the day before. When I say police station images of a building may be conjured up, no such structure exists in the ruins of Pisco. Instead the policemen dressed like soldiers wonder around the square, based around three small garden shead sized wood huts. They use old type writters and whatever was salvaged from the wreakage sits about them, dusty riot sheilds lean against rusty filing cabinets.
My bus journey back to Lima was uneventful apart from some cavalier over taking by our driver that resulted in arriving early back into Lima. In the evening I met up with friends at a cafe. Nazzer had returned to Lima with tales of his time spent in Cuzco and Arequipa. We sat drinking coffee and chocolate all exchanging stories of our weeks apart.
It felt good to be returning to somewhere where I have friends I could quite happily spent much more time here I just need to learn some Spanish!
Monday, 19 May 2008
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?
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?
Sunday, 18 May 2008
burning men and the desert vultures
I have had the most beautiful and amazing weekend. I write again from Rositas small internet corner shop cafe whilst I rest my weary but happy self down at the computer. On Saturday I made my way into the centre of Pisco and changed my bus ticket to stay in Pisco until next Tuesday as I was meant to be leaving in the afternoon. I then went and bought a rather smart pair of trousers after over a week of wearing the same green linen trousers to work in I felt a nice pair would be good. These trousers now lay on my bed covered in shoot dust and with two large holes. Lets just say after two pitchers of rum and coke, neat pisco and beer fire dancing for the first time is not advisable, neither is falling down a well. I shall get to this part of the story later! So after sorting this out I decided to move out of the dorm where I have been living to a hostel to enjoy some nights of sleep without the continuous buzz of mosquitos, the pins and needles from the hard matrass, the endlless dog fights outside my window and the snoring. After entering the room I lay down and fell asleep straight away was fantastic.
In the evening the burning began. For the last few nights groups of people had been working on art projects ready for last nights party, I helped build a woman from bamboo and spare clothes. All the art work was to be burnt to create a mini burning man festival which is the festival from which the organisation has grown from. The sculpture looked fantastic and burnt so well all through the night until we left at 4am to embers glowed hot.
In the afternoon before the madness began I attended the opening ceremony of the school on which the volunteers had worked for the last 8 months, it was beautiful murals all over the walls and brightly coloured tiny chairs. The school is in a nearby area called San andreus very close to the beach and therefore still at huge risk from Tsunami. The ceremony involved smashing Champagne, consuming Pisco sour and listening to the assembled families and children join in a less than enthusiastic renition of Peru's national anthem.
After the ceremony we moved onto a bar we have frequented here, one of the only ones that is deemed safe for us, and luckily has a large outside space perfect for fire spinning and burning of art works. The night began with a ride in the back of a truck holding on for dear life as we bumped along the pot holed road a great speed.
Whilst here I have been learning to spin (dance with pois), but had resisted the lighting of the pois. However I was convinced that my skill was sufficient to be able to dance and spin after lots of rum et al. Needless to say my efforts were less than graceful and resulted in flames dancing about my head and shooty marks all over my clothes from an inability to stop striking myself with the pois. The holes in my trousers came from jumping a fence, the bruises on my legs from falling down what we think must have been a well and the dust from laying out on the ground listening to the panpipes being played and watching the last flames. The Peruvians are not ones for safety and had simply covered the open well with a thin sheet of coregated plastic and a tire, this was in close proximitty to the bar and so I think I was not the only one to fall down the well in the space of the evening!
Today started later than usual because of the aforementioned and so bleary eyed I stepped in to the sunlight at 11am. Gary was ready for the off as we had promised each other a trip to Paracas national park. I had a light breakfast of choclate milk, two satsumas and a banana not knowing that this was the only food I would eat for a good few hours. We caught a crowded van to Paracas where we began our hike, a small assembly of small houses and shacks by the sea. We had no idea how far the walk would be but we so enjoyed it and it was worth every mile. Beyoond the small tow of paracas lay the beautiful desert, the road stretching as far as the eye could see into the vast sand dunes and strange luna like rock formations. We walked 10 kilometres to some beautiful cliffs, petrified sand dunes to a massive scale. after this first part of the walk we sat on the cliffs over looking the sea, the only people for miles around. Pelicans swooping over the waves, vultures circling over head creating a surreal but fantastic experience. After some time taking in the scene we headed back as the sun set and walked for several hours. Back in Paracas we sat by the sea and ate huge plates of sea food. It was a beautiful and magical day.
So there we are a rather long and rambling entry for you all to yawn over. I am now off to bathe my feet which are sandy and sour before I tumble into my bed and sleep.
In the evening the burning began. For the last few nights groups of people had been working on art projects ready for last nights party, I helped build a woman from bamboo and spare clothes. All the art work was to be burnt to create a mini burning man festival which is the festival from which the organisation has grown from. The sculpture looked fantastic and burnt so well all through the night until we left at 4am to embers glowed hot.
In the afternoon before the madness began I attended the opening ceremony of the school on which the volunteers had worked for the last 8 months, it was beautiful murals all over the walls and brightly coloured tiny chairs. The school is in a nearby area called San andreus very close to the beach and therefore still at huge risk from Tsunami. The ceremony involved smashing Champagne, consuming Pisco sour and listening to the assembled families and children join in a less than enthusiastic renition of Peru's national anthem.
After the ceremony we moved onto a bar we have frequented here, one of the only ones that is deemed safe for us, and luckily has a large outside space perfect for fire spinning and burning of art works. The night began with a ride in the back of a truck holding on for dear life as we bumped along the pot holed road a great speed.
Whilst here I have been learning to spin (dance with pois), but had resisted the lighting of the pois. However I was convinced that my skill was sufficient to be able to dance and spin after lots of rum et al. Needless to say my efforts were less than graceful and resulted in flames dancing about my head and shooty marks all over my clothes from an inability to stop striking myself with the pois. The holes in my trousers came from jumping a fence, the bruises on my legs from falling down what we think must have been a well and the dust from laying out on the ground listening to the panpipes being played and watching the last flames. The Peruvians are not ones for safety and had simply covered the open well with a thin sheet of coregated plastic and a tire, this was in close proximitty to the bar and so I think I was not the only one to fall down the well in the space of the evening!
Today started later than usual because of the aforementioned and so bleary eyed I stepped in to the sunlight at 11am. Gary was ready for the off as we had promised each other a trip to Paracas national park. I had a light breakfast of choclate milk, two satsumas and a banana not knowing that this was the only food I would eat for a good few hours. We caught a crowded van to Paracas where we began our hike, a small assembly of small houses and shacks by the sea. We had no idea how far the walk would be but we so enjoyed it and it was worth every mile. Beyoond the small tow of paracas lay the beautiful desert, the road stretching as far as the eye could see into the vast sand dunes and strange luna like rock formations. We walked 10 kilometres to some beautiful cliffs, petrified sand dunes to a massive scale. after this first part of the walk we sat on the cliffs over looking the sea, the only people for miles around. Pelicans swooping over the waves, vultures circling over head creating a surreal but fantastic experience. After some time taking in the scene we headed back as the sun set and walked for several hours. Back in Paracas we sat by the sea and ate huge plates of sea food. It was a beautiful and magical day.
So there we are a rather long and rambling entry for you all to yawn over. I am now off to bathe my feet which are sandy and sour before I tumble into my bed and sleep.
Friday, 16 May 2008
busting the water main and building shitters
Dear aall, I am sitting in the internet well I cannot really say cafe as this is a bad description for what is essentially a garage with a few machines.I am drinking a cold beer and thinking about the last few busy days. I have been helping in the work yard building the steel frames for the aptly named shitters, I have been building a art sculpture for the party tomorrow night to celebrate the finishing of one of the schools, I have been drinking lots of beer and eating lots of icecream, getting blisters from too much digging and shovelling and getting to know some fantastic people from all over the world.
Due to all the above facts and add in the fact that this place despite its dangers and tragic desolation has an indeniable magnestisim which can easily suck people in to staying here for months.
TOday whilst digging holes for the erection of a fence around one of the schools the organisation has been working on we managed to bust the water main. This resulted in a flood. This flood was stemmed by some ingenious plumbiong involving a plastic bag and some fire. This is what I love about this place its haphazard construction and cavalier attitude to safety to the point of pantomime proportions!
Due to all the above facts and add in the fact that this place despite its dangers and tragic desolation has an indeniable magnestisim which can easily suck people in to staying here for months.
TOday whilst digging holes for the erection of a fence around one of the schools the organisation has been working on we managed to bust the water main. This resulted in a flood. This flood was stemmed by some ingenious plumbiong involving a plastic bag and some fire. This is what I love about this place its haphazard construction and cavalier attitude to safety to the point of pantomime proportions!
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
sweet bread and brick gathering
I really just wanted to write about the people that I have met here in Pisco these range from the little boy Jose who saw me working outside his home in the rubble and was ushered out by his mother bearing gifts of cold fanta and sweet bread. He stood by me and watched me devour his family´s kind offerings. These people who are so poor and living in horrendous conditions. After this three small boys playing foot ball on a pitch they had marked out in the foundations of what had been a school where many pupils had died, stopped their game took up spare tools and started to help chilsel at the bricks to help us in our work. I have also met amazing volunteers people who have dedicated their lives to helping others. Such an example is Andy, he is my project manager for the corner stone or shitters project. This involves the building and erection of 6 toilet blocks made from re-enforced concrete that will form the structural supports for the houses which they serve. Andy is the jolliest and warmest person you could hope to meet. He is trained as an engineer but has not had a job since 2004. He was caught up in the boxing day Tsunami he lost both his partner and best friend and was very lucky to survive himself. After months in hospital he returned and since this point has spent his life volunteering in disaster zones. He says that if ever he is again so close to death and has such time to contemplate and reflect upon his existence he wants to feel that he has helpèd. This is a valuable lesson and I hope that I too will live with as much courage and resiliance as Andy.
Today I have been out and about in Pisco searching through the rubbish tips and the rubble heaps for bricks to re use in the foundations for the toilet blocks. Whilst carrying out this job I had time to reflect and to look about me to realise that in a few seconds your life can be reduced to a pile of rubble.
Today I have been out and about in Pisco searching through the rubbish tips and the rubble heaps for bricks to re use in the foundations for the toilet blocks. Whilst carrying out this job I had time to reflect and to look about me to realise that in a few seconds your life can be reduced to a pile of rubble.
Monday, 12 May 2008
chicken guts and stray dogs
I only have five minutes to write this entry so sorry that it is rushed I just had to get down a few images before they escaped my memory banks.
Yesterday was our day off I spent it firstly on a boat travelling around some local islands looking at the wildlife which ranged from penguins to sealions.
After this I spent the afternoon at the market the most amazing market I have ever seen.
The maze of small streets were crammed with sights smells and noise. I made the mistake of wearing flip flops, there were animal guts and blood strewn across the potholed roads, rubbish of all kinds, open sewers next to the cheese stalls. Street vendors everywhere pushing along their tempting trolleys of treats, chocolate raisins, sweets. People sitting eating at small stalls women expertly cutting cows heart with a huge knife and frying it for her customers. I stopped for a bowl of noodles in part of the internal and covered market. the stall was a cross between a cafe serving chiense food, a corner shoop people coming to buy cartons of milk and a take away where rather novely the lady prepared all the vegetable and then popped them in a bag like a ready meal everything sliced and ready to cook. The various fruits and all the colours I never knew potatoes could be was what held my attention.
I am sorry for the lack of interest that this blog provides...I must be off to get some supper before the 50 other volunteers eat it all!
Yesterday was our day off I spent it firstly on a boat travelling around some local islands looking at the wildlife which ranged from penguins to sealions.
After this I spent the afternoon at the market the most amazing market I have ever seen.
The maze of small streets were crammed with sights smells and noise. I made the mistake of wearing flip flops, there were animal guts and blood strewn across the potholed roads, rubbish of all kinds, open sewers next to the cheese stalls. Street vendors everywhere pushing along their tempting trolleys of treats, chocolate raisins, sweets. People sitting eating at small stalls women expertly cutting cows heart with a huge knife and frying it for her customers. I stopped for a bowl of noodles in part of the internal and covered market. the stall was a cross between a cafe serving chiense food, a corner shoop people coming to buy cartons of milk and a take away where rather novely the lady prepared all the vegetable and then popped them in a bag like a ready meal everything sliced and ready to cook. The various fruits and all the colours I never knew potatoes could be was what held my attention.
I am sorry for the lack of interest that this blog provides...I must be off to get some supper before the 50 other volunteers eat it all!
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