Week 2: Basically Native

Monday

I wasn't deceiving y'all. I really already have less material to write about. Aside from classes on Monday, I ran to the Claro store to buy some more minutes for my phone. While hovering outside and debating whether I really needed to purchase any more minutes, I had the pleasure of listening to Kiss' "I Was Made for Loving' You." Cusco is a weird mix of traditional music, pop, and US hits.

As it turned out, there was no need to buy minutes, so I headed to lunch on La Avenida de la Cultura. More blasts from the past, including "Love is like Oxygen." Somehow I feel like this song would be unacceptable in any other circumstance.

From there, I embarked on a mission to find a nice Flamenco style guitar. My boss at Berry, Dr. Cipollini, gave me instructions and the means to purchase a local guitar. So a fellow student and I rode the bus nearly to the San Pedro Market (I heard mercado and prematurely disembarked). It was quite an adventure to ask locals where exactly Calle Concebidayoc was. Gestures just don't go as far as one wishes.

At one point I found myself walking along the perimeter of Quriconcha. How fortunate am I to have gotten lost?

Never Gets Old

My appreciation for this historic locality has only increased as I've learned more about it. This "Temple of the Sun" was the destination of an immense pilgrimage during the Incan reign. People from all walks of life from all of Tawantinsuyo would journey here by foot for religious reasons.  Cusco was literally the capital of the Incan empire, and here I am wandering about and having difficulties walking across the street.

Finally I arrived at the destination that my host father suggested. After comparing guitars and prices in three stores, I went with a Flamenco style cutaway that was constructed in Cajamarca, Perú.

Photo por Papa Jesús

Lifers? Nassah.

Tuesday

Tuesday can't be gone early enough. It's a headache of a day. Soo many classes.

After lunch at the house, I had to make my way back to ISA. As I exited the patio, I had to double take while looking down the street. The damn city crew had come by and pollarded all of the Ashes that made up the riparian zone. So much for eaves dropping on Sparkling Violetears while waiting for the bus. And goodbye shade. Here's an idea: Limpieza should be more concerned with cleaning trash out of the river than cutting down it's cooling mechanism.

One silver lining to today was having the privilege of looking after Anthony and Gabriela's precious puppy, Vella.

Selfie with Vella

Bobbi: A member of La Familia Presa-Pompilla

Of course 9/11 was on the mind of us translocated Americans. It never seems to be easier to understand. Peruvians also remember the tragedy and their whereabouts the moment it happened.

My first looks at the moon this week were otherworldly. The orientation of the moon on this side of the Equator is quite different. Instead of waxing and waning in classic vertical style, Peruvian half-moons are more like full smiles.

Nary a lifer.

Wednesday

The inspiration for this week's title can be traced to Wednesday's sentiments. I felt a change come over me. I felt more capable, more autonomous. 

Most of this newfound confidence is the result of being shown around by Señor Jesús. My understanding of my immediate surroundings had been at 50% until he and I went on a short walk around the neighborhood. Now I knew where to walk to the store, where to hail a cab, and where to take an alternate bus route.

During some free time on Wednesday, I walked over to the local grocery store by means of my newfound passages. The first thing that hit me while leaving the house was an undeniable sense of fall weather (which is ironic because it's the onset of Spring here). Dry, cool breezes carried scents of street food. I felt as light as the clear sky above. A pair of Blue-and-Yellow Tanagers kept the peace from a prominent perch in the neighborhood.

Man, I'm really starting to get oriented. ISA warnings about petting dogs come to mind like Santa's advice to Buddy in Elf. I do heed these words though.

An odd thing about Cusco is it's lack of House Sparrows. One of the most successful and cosmopolitan species of birds, House Sparrows usually occupy any urban area. It's odd to admit, but I feel like a piece of me is missing alongside their absence. And the resident Rock Pigeons by no means fill this void. I'm much more partial to the native Spot-winged Pigeons. Wild Pigeon species are just the coolest.

A successful trip carried out with what now feels like soothing awareness of self and place.

Evening brought a trip to ISA and salsa lessons. I'm not gonna lie; it was fun as hell. We danced the night away.

Afterwards, I ate a taco with a few ISA students and a few Cusco students. 

Still no lifers this week...

Thursday

Lots of classes. Evening at Avenida de la Cultura was hectic. It's election season here, and it's madness. Parades, drums, floats, flags, banners, everything. Seeing jerry-rigged speakers on the roofs of sedans never gets old. The flag of Cusco is a prominent image at the moment. I'll let you decide what it is reminiscent of...

El Arcoiris Original

After class, I accompanied a Cusco student to "check out her artwork." As it turned out, her art was locked in a room, and the evening ended up being more of a pseudo-date. Lots of walking and talking.

Finally I broke off and returned home for the night.

Where tha birds at??

Friday

Damn this week has flown by. 

I spoke too soon about Limpieza... They at least made a semi-decent effort at coming back and cleaning up the river. I bet they broke records for every US state that participates in Rivers Alive cleanups. This seems like the kind of job that I would have if I were a Cusqueño. 

Friday: Una Locura, but a good one at that. After my classes, I hitched a ride to the mall with Anthony and his cousin. From there, I taxied to La Plaza de Armas for a rendezvous with the ISA crowd.

We were to be treated to a nice buffet dinner. I ate a good amount, but unfortunately missed out on my chance to eat Cui (Guinea Pig) due to my lack of skills at visually identifying cooked meats. There were no labels at the table. A slew of traditional dances transpired on the stage. It was time to go find the night.

So we all migrated to a Irish-Peruvian bar called Norton's. Needless to say it was more accommodating that our last bar spot; it could actually house us comfortably. Drinking, darts, talking.  Earth, Wind, and Fire pushed us onward. In the bathroom, I was cordially offered weed and cocaine.

They Won't Ever Soar like a Vincent '52

Next? A club. As someone who has never been to a club, I was definitely apprehensive. But it was all in good fun. It was an innocent space where we could just dance and enjoy the moves that we were being taught. The setup was like a real-life Dance-Dance Revolution. I mean Boogie Nights kinda stuff. 

Eventually they started dropping like flies. But I stayed out a bit to keep some ISA girls company. It's very uncharacteristic of me to be the last one standing: a novel feeling.

Finally the club was no longer worth it to us, so we headed to the Plaza to "drink like Cusqueños." Basically you buy a bottle of liquor and drink it in the street. I'm still convinced that it was Sprite.

Enough. Time to head homeward.

No birds to report.

Saturday

I woke up earlier than I wanted to, but I should be thankful to have been cooked a meal. My host parents were gone for most of the weekend, so Anthony was around. As we ate breakfast, we fell into a multi-hour long exploration of music and movies. As we found out, our tastes are interwoven, so we had much to present to each other. Many trailers, many music videos...

I found out that Anthony has a surprising past. Check out his previous band:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVp1dwvNBAA

Anthony is the one on guitar. His solo at the 4-minute mark is not to be missed. And yes, his parents are proud.

Intermittent rain showers tried their best to persuade me to stay in and work on a presentation for class, but I didn't come to Perú to sit at a desk.

At 1 I met four other ISA students (Spencer, Annelise, Meg, and Laurel) to ride down to La Plaza. I made one of the best decisions of my life shortly thereafter. I snatched up an orange Gatorade that sustained me through the bus ride to la Plaza. Without it, I have no doubt that my body would have sublimated on that bus.

Market

Pretty Plaza

Arrival at la Plaza. This place never stops. Spencer and I are dying for some sustenance, so we bolt for Papacho's (a name that I doubt that I'll ever forget: you'll soon find out why). One of our guides highly recommended this stop for its renowned Alpaca burgers (Peruvians eat Alpaca, NOT Llama). Cool, I can dig that.

Papacho's was really sweet. The walls were decked out in vintage albums and quality music (varied and well cued) played from what felt like it must have been an amplified record player. Our waiter donned glasses whose frame was only 50% intact. While waiting for our meals, Spencer entertained us with a damn fun game. Here's how it goes:

To be played at restaurants or bars with paper tablecloths and available writing utensils. Players take turns tossing a coin onto the surface. They then draw a circle and write a dare (of sorts) in the circle. As the game goes on, the chance of landing in a circle increases, and once this occurs, the player must do as that circle says. Of course I landed on the circle that said "Say Papacho's 50 times." I just couldn't hold it together. It took me ages to finish.

Other notable dares included:

"Sneeze obnoxiously."

"Make eye-contact with a stranger in the room and wink."

"Ask the waiter where Perú is."

"Put crayons in your nose."  

etc., etc.

And of course the tasks can be positive. For instance, one can write "compliment someone." It's a fun game, and it took my mind off of my empty stomach and mediocre physical condition.

Finally the food arrived. We watched as fresh guacamole was made with a mortar and pestle at our table. I chowed down on my Alpaca burger. In all honesty, it wasn't all that flavorful. Perhaps I'm more accustomed to the discernible taste of beef.

Now to the main event of the day: a walk to San Cristóbal church. Situated on a hill overlooking el Centro Histórico, this church is a sight to take in. From what I understand, the foundations of the church are stones that were removed from a nearby Incan site of great importance: Saqsaywaman. A stoic Kestrel posed nearby, playing the part of el dueño de Cusco. 

As we posed for photos, a man began casually chatting with us. Man, how refreshing it is to just have a nice conversation with a stranger (refer to end-of-week reflections). Nope, he just wanted to sell us on a horseback tour of Saqsaywaman.

Cusco from San Cristóbol

Crew

We then ducked in to the chapel and bought a pass to 6 local historical churches. How bizarre San Cristóbal was. Very strong images of the crucifixion filled every glance. Highly detailed figures and mosaics would have made any proponent of Rococo proud. Golden surfaces and mirrors provided an air of exuberance. It was really a lot to take in. Without any guide, our imaginations ran wild.

Por Laurel

From here, we scaled the belltower. We passed the time peering through the arches to get more views of the city and posing for scenic photos. In the patio space below, House Wrens, Rufous-collared Sparrows, and Chiguanco Thrushes went about their business. I cued in on a Band-tailed Seedeater; my first lifer of the week.

Back down to Cusco. We were intercepted and brought into a chocolate wonderland on the hillside. None of us could resist walking out of the store without rich dark chocolate accented by chili peppers, pink salt, or gooseberry.

Roof Plants

With our newfound freedom in the form of a church pass, we sauntered back to the Plaza to check out La Catedral, an formidable giant of a church. Upon entry, we were again casually approached in conversation. After the dude realized we weren't interested in his guide services, he left mid-sentence to scope out some more promising clientele.

I can't even begin to hold a candle to what can be seen in La Catedral; so many painstaking hours of work in so many different types of mediums cannot be summarized by my words. 

It was now getting towards evening, so we hailed a taxi and headed to our respective homes. 

With a long day on the horizon, I headed for bed early.

Dozing off for what can be considered a power nap of a sleep. Cusco continues to run through my mind. Marcavalle Marcavalle ¿Nadie? Nadie Sube Sube Sube Baja Baja Baja. Woodblock rhythms for the neighbors linger in order to fill the late night silent void. tac-a-tac tac-a-tac tac-a-tac Perfect in tempo as the sound of hoofbeats on a cobble road.

Lifers: uno

Sunday

Surrealism incarnate. 2:30 am: Never Going Back Again breaks into my unmolested rest. But I know that it will be worth it. So I pull myself together, get my gear ready, and head out to the roadside. Papa Jesús had organized my pickup with a "taxi seguro." As I wait, packs of dogs roam the streets, emitting an eerie cacophony. Laughter, voices, and distorted music reply from the opposite side.

It's nearing 3. A car approaches. I assume it's my man; although, I don't know his name. "I Was Made for Lovin' You" is trust enough. We set off for my meeting point as Kiss fades to "Johnny Be Good."

I'm the first to arrive at the bus stop at 3:15. But by 3:30, most others have arrived. I am part of a group of 9 students headed on a guided trip to Laguna Humantay, a glacial lake in the vicinity of Salcantay, a 20,000 ft mountain. 

We finally get picked up and zip around Cusco, collecting other members of the outing. Our last pickup is in the vicinity of la Plaza, where I again find evidence that Cusco doesn't sleep. Among the relative chaos of the early morning activity are two backpackers. Decked out and in close contact, this couple radiated solidarity. I can understand where David Bowie got his inspiration for "Heroes."

I wake up in Mollepata, a town tucked in a verdant valley. Apart from the noisy flocks of Mitred Parakeets that never seemed content in one tree or another, the place had a Himalayan feel.

Breakfast in Mollepata

After a very light breakfast, we packed back into the van to begin an arduous and tense climb. As we wound about the tight mountainous road, I picked up a few lifers, including Black-throated Flowerpiercer and Golden-billed Saltator. The windy dirt road proved too much for one participant, and we had to pull over en route. Fortunately my lip was packed with Coca leaves, and caffeine kept me afloat. The landscape transitioned from small-scale hillside farms to steep, forested slopes. Grazing was apparent; cows were in the road, and vegetation on the slopes was only spared at the canopy level. We had climbed a good bit; snowcapped mountains filled the view ahead.

The Long and Winding Road

Approach

Approach with Horses

By 8 am we arrived to the point where cars were prohibited. From here, we go on foot. After a brief introduction (our guide went by Freddie Kruger/Mercury), we began the trek. Our group was pretty well represented geographically. Most US states were in attendance, as were Brazilians, Australians, a Costa Rican, and a Dutch dude. 

At valley level we passed a few Andean Lapwings. Cinclodes foraged in the pastures as noisy Mountain Caracaras flew overhead. The climb intensified rapidly. It felt as if we were walking in slow motion, like we were under the influence of another type of gravity. Deep breaths of air were totally lacking in moisture content.

Andean Lapwing

Cream-winged Cinclodes

Mountain Caracara: A Badass

And So it Begins

What a Country

Three Points of Contact

But for all of the hardship, the scenery was immaculate. We passed through zones of bird activity, where Tyrants, Sierra Finches, and a Tufted Tit-Tyrant encouraged us onward. Overhead several Andean Condors dominated the sky. They stood out impressively against the giant rugged mountains. Distance merely provided a different perspective; it did nothing to lessen the sheer magnitude of their size. I mean it's the largest flying bird in the world.

Onwards. We can see a respite in the incline. Surely a hidden oasis lies ahead. We pass over one last rise, and sure enough, Laguna Humantay lay waiting. Although it wasn't the crystalline blue that I had imagined (in fact, a fair amount of algae lined the gravelly bottom), the scene was definitely an impressive sight. Salcantay rose formidably behind the lake. Clouds veiled the peak, providing an illusion of infiniteness. Pure swaths of ice transitioned to a small glacier that fed the lake.

Photo-Bomb

Take 2

Some photo ops and a short lesson from Freddie. Hordes of people began to arrive. Brown-bellied Swallows wished us bon voyage as the hail began to fall. We took an alternate route down, affording views of a nice wash with clear flowing water. Avifauna reflected the slight differences in habitat, as I witnessed gems like Stripe-headed Antpitta and Blue-mantled Thornbill. Our return to the bottom brought some rest and a Cusqueño beer...improvised Dramamine.

Wash

Blue-mantled Thornbill

Tyrian Metaltail: Aren't Hummingbird names the coolest?

Stripe-headed Antpitta: My First Ever Antpitta!

At about 1 pm we departed, making our way back to the breakfast spot. A parade in Mollepata seemed to herald our arrival. After a fulfilling lunch of pastas and such, we initiated the long drive back to Cusco. About 2.5 hours of sleep and we were back.

Desfile

Back in town, my best views at a Peruvian Sierra-Finch signaled the end of a good week.

Nice Peruvian Sierra-Finch

Lifers today? 16

And so went Week 2... A fast one.

Some End of Week Reflections:

-People here often cite climate as a factor in behavior. I've heard it in conversation, in school, etc. Although it makes pretty good sense, it's a topic that I had never heard discussed in the US. Do people act differently due to a combination of factors: temperature, altitude, sunlight...?

-I am starting to miss a few things. Putting my wallet in my back pocket, for instance.

Also, I miss genuinely nice people. Like random folks who have nothing to gain from you. I'm a bit sick of people wanting something from me. With the tourist fishers in mind, I recall a incident from last January. My buddy Sam Murray and I were birding in south Georgia. As evening fell, we trampled about a fallow field chasing Lark Sparrows. Making our way back to the road, we were approached by a van. Sure enough, it was the landowners. Instead of reprimanding us for trespassing, they expressed genuine interest in our find. AND they extended an open invitation to watch the sunset from their back porch whenever we were around. After all, it was the best spot in the county to view it.

-I do miss the South. For some reason, majestic visions of Ichauway and blackwater creeks come to mind.

-The American Dream is alive and well here. Lots of Peruvians wish to at least visit, but I get the gist that traveling to the US from Perú ain't easy.

End of Week Lifer Tally: 

17! I achieved my 600th global species: Andean Condor. What a 600!