This one is kind of long, so here's an advisory for those inclined to skipping or skimming. If you are to read anything on this page, read Sunday's entry. It's my personal favorite.
Monday
Open your eyes. Time is ticking.
It's tough to will yourself into it; it just has to happen. Put yourself in the right situations and avoid preoccupations of school because learning is everywhere. Sometimes you've got to see the world like a child does.
I kinda feel like my eyes have been a bit closed to the world lately, and it's time to change that.
I finally accomplish another of my goals: familiarizing myself with my district, San Sebastian. Breaking habit is good for perspective. It reminds you that there is magic out there. It hasn't disappeared, you've just become temporarily blind to it.
Here we come, walkin down the street
The Condor from below
San Sebastian Condor
Cusco's famous title
What kinds of things did I see? A Dude lookalike and a Peruvian Stan Lee. Another guy was wearing an inverted crucifix necklace. It was a very first-week thing to do, but now seemed like the best time to give it a shot.
Tuesday
Eyes wide open now. Eli and I make our way to a local motorcycle agency to see about getting some bikes for the weekend. There, we meet our boy Victor. The whole deal is relaxed. We discuss the possibility of renting a few motorcycles as if we're discussing items on the menu at lunch.
Leaving the secluded plaza where the agency is hidden, a little bit of magic touches us. I glimpsed a small yellow bird in passing, with a Rufous-collared Sparrow in tow. And I quickly got the feeling that it was unusual and out of place. And boy was it: a Connecticut Warbler. A life bird for me.
It was behaving out of sorts, foraging frequently in the open, unconcerned by passersby and my cell phone-extending approach. It appeared as though this classically-secretive Warbler had just arrived from a ways off and was in need of whatever fuel it could encounter.
I tried to get Eli to share my excitement, but I wasn't even really aware of the significance of our sighting myself.
Leaving the secluded plaza where the agency is hidden, a little bit of magic touches us. I glimpsed a small yellow bird in passing, with a Rufous-collared Sparrow in tow. And I quickly got the feeling that it was unusual and out of place. And boy was it: a Connecticut Warbler. A life bird for me.
It was behaving out of sorts, foraging frequently in the open, unconcerned by passersby and my cell phone-extending approach. It appeared as though this classically-secretive Warbler had just arrived from a ways off and was in need of whatever fuel it could encounter.
I tried to get Eli to share my excitement, but I wasn't even really aware of the significance of our sighting myself.
iPhone shot: confirmed within the day
CONW sightings in Perú
We spotted one of the few Connecticut Warblers ever reported in Perú through eBird. And the first to ever be reported from the district of Cusco. What are the odds that we'd see this bird, which was probably born 4-5,000 miles from here a few months ago, in the heart of Cusco. On a sidewalk...
I had to get back to watch another movie at ISA and was just on cloud 9.
The movie was good though. It was La Teta Asustata, a Peruvian movie that addressed the years of political violence in the late 20th century.
Wednesday
This morning, I head back to the Connecticut Warbler plaza with my optics to get better views and photos. But it seemed as though the bird had moved on by this point. I did almost get attacked by a dog though.
Connecticut Warbler habitat
It's the day before Thanksgiving, but it certainly doesn't feel like it. While in Tottus, the supermarket, I listened to "Santa Claus llegó a la ciudad:" Santa Claus is coming to town.
All ISA students were asked to bring a Thanksgiving dish to our family meal. I decided to go with mac and cheese, and Papa Jesús excitedly offered to help out. So we hit up the mall to get the ingredients together. In some ways, he is like my Dad. Out in public, he's always greeting familiars.
As we departed the concrete market, I noticed a peculiar vendor stand. It was full of carnivorous plants and orchids. That's no good. How strange to see the international plant trade actually in front of me. These plants are my friends; I know their systems. And their systems are in no shape to be providing these rare plants for people's windowsills. Unlike the Connecticut Warbler, these plants did not make a series of choices that brought them here. They leave it to us to make their decisions, and we need to do a better job.
That night's soccer was a bit tough. Few people showed up due to studies and rainy weather, so we played two hours straight with just two teams. In the rain. A bit brutal this time, but soccer is very important to us.
Thursday
THANKSGIVING!!!!!
My first away from home. It began with classes.
But I've experienced a return of interest lately; I've been walking around more. Taking it all in.
In the afternoon, Papa Jesús and I prepared my dish with suggestions from my Mom plus a little Peruvian twist. We fired it in a Eucalyptus-fueled oven down the street. It cost about a dollar, and it was the key move. Good idea, Papa Jesús.
Mac and cheese in hand, P.J. dropped me off at ISA, where a touching evening of camaraderie ensued. We performed our rehearsed talents, in the form of skits, songs, and dances. Then we each shared our thankfulness before dinner. The emotions were high, some wonderful things were said, and I felt so close to my fellows in that moment. Dinner was awesome taste-wise and satisfaction-wise (it's special to provide for loved ones).
Although I originally turned down an offer to get drinks with Eli after the dinner, I came to my senses. It's Thanksgiving, why would I not enjoy it with my buddies???
Norton's was the spot, a perfect precursor to Eli's and my upcoming cross-country tour.
Lots of pool-playing, good times. Blues Traveler sent me off at a reasonable hour; I had a big day coming up.
Friday
This big day was another of Spencer's wildly-hatched ideas. Parque de la Papa in Pisaq. I trust the man, and I was not going to miss out on one of his adventures, even if it means missing another class.
According to plan, I'm in front of Orion (not the constellation, the supermarket) at 6:30. Despite all of Spencer's warnings and concessions that we're winging it, we made it to the Pisaq bus stop. We grabbed some bread, hopped on, and made our way to Pisaq...
Where we hopped off at the bridge and made our way to a market. A bit of miscommunication; it took a while to meet up with our man, but it was a nice morning anyway.
Pisaq and us
Finally we did encounter him. A man dressed in traditional clothes who spoke Quechua and Spanish. Super nice, super knowledgeable. We contracted a car with him and headed for the hills, the hills of potatoes. Our first stop was ParuParu, one the six active conservation/agriculture/subsistence communities that make up Parque de la Papa. We were welcomed by a small group of locals who performed a song and blessed us with a shower of flowers.
Huddled around the large laguna where Andean Geese and mysterious Coots made their livings, we learned some basic, but impressive facts about the collaboration. The communities work to preserve and research over 1,400 species of potatoes on nearly 23,000 acres. Not to mention the other crop varieties that they conserve. I was happy to pick up a much wanted lifer here: the Black-faced Ibis.
Laguna ParuParu
From there, we moved to the site of the seed bank. Along the way, we were impressed by the authenticity of this community. Clean, natural, self-supporting. And the people were all super friendly. They waved and greeted us all the way. It took me back to Paramis, back in the Puno days, in terms of the idealness of the way of life.
When we arrived at the seed bank, we were presented a large bowl of a variety of potatoes that must have come straight down from heaven. Colors, flavors, and textures were all unique. We savored the manna, basking in the sunlight and realizing our great fortune.
Papas Silvestres: Didn't realize they were in the same family as tomatoes
Then we hopped into the seed bank. There were few potatoes in the structure because it was planting time; we had seen several greenhouses of freshly planted potatoes. Nonetheless, the building was a feat of engineering. It was so cool inside. Water basins underlay the racks of potatoes that were cooled by natural air circulation from outside.
Before we departed, we were given a more strenuous lesson on the governance of the communities and the nature of the varieties of potatoes and their threats: climate change being the greatest. Although our concern for this information was genuine, our eyelids were heavy. Potatoes are like sleep medicine.
We were grateful to be released. After conversing with a local artisan, we crashed on the grass. What a glorious day. Content and full of organic and natural potatoes, my buddies quickly slipped into an impromptu siesta.
But I had seen a suspicious hummingbird. It seemed to be hanging around the underside of the seed bank's straw awnings: nesting? Sure enough! A new species for me!
Mountain Velvetbreast at nido
Action Shot
Laurel came over to appreciate this wonder of life before we shipped out.
Where to? Lunch!
Llama in the street
We dozed and gazed out the window at the beautiful countryside as we made our way towards a new part of the park. Exiting the vehicle, two more Black-faced Ibis flew overhead, being pursued by an agitated Mountain Caracara.
Lunch was nice. We had the place to ourselves, and we were served healthy, local, and organic food alongside our guide and driver.
And that was it. Time to go back to Pisaq. It was absolutely ideal: nothing rushed, we took our time and enjoyed every part of the experience. And it was a sort of private tour. It was as if we were VIP's, and we were to be given special treatment.
Back in Pisaq, we sought out some damn cheap ice cream. I think it cost about twenty cents. It's like older generations always talk about: things were cheaper back in my day; we paid a nickel to go see a movie. I wonder if we're experiencing the old days in Perú. Are things bound to change with "progress?"
Satiated, we boarded a car and headed back to Cusco. A song was playing in the van as we arrived, and it caught my ear. I made a mental note and tracked it down. The song is called "Hasta la Raíz." The version that was playing is a catchy pop cover by Corazón Serrano. But I'm glad that I didn't stop there... The original artist is an exceptional talent. Check out her NPR Tiny Desk concert:
Since then, Natalia Lafourcade has become one of my favorites, a new idol. Gosh her voice is heavenly.
Also from the day:
Also from the day:
Kids: remember who will come and get you if you don't eat your cereal bar
Saturday
A volunteer day: Navidad Azul with ISA. A large group of us headed to the community of Huayna Asungate way up in the mountains. Bearing gifts, we made the one-way, three hour trip.
A beautiful site no doubt. Many kids greeted us upon arrival. We danced and played for a while. A clown tried his best to entertain. Bread and hot chocolate for all the kids.
After the gift-giving, they made their way back towards their respective homes, and we did the same.
A beautiful site no doubt. Many kids greeted us upon arrival. We danced and played for a while. A clown tried his best to entertain. Bread and hot chocolate for all the kids.
After the gift-giving, they made their way back towards their respective homes, and we did the same.
In the shadow of Asungate
That evening, the group headed for pizza and then watched the Grinch together.
Sunday
Freedom is a hard concept to pin down unless you are right smack in the middle of it. Then it is so real, and nothing else is even of concern. I believe this is what Eli and I discovered for ourselves on this unforgettable day. It's the kind of thing that we both looked at each other and said "Why have we not done this every free moment?"
It began when we met our buddy Victor at his place to pick up the bikes. Could it have been easier? I'm really not sure. Sign two documents, photograph our IDs, give us gloves and helmets, and send us on our way. Sure, I believe you two have enough experience with the bikes and the country to take these two Honda 250's wherever you want.
Eli and I could not have been more tickled. We hit la Avenida with a force and blazed south in search of an adequate breakfast. One painless police check later and we were out of the city, reborn in the country. Winding past my previous week's haunts, Eli and I made our way towards San Salvador to try out a restaurant that I had seen the other weekend.
9:45 am. What better time for two giant plates of fried trout, papas, rice, salad, and a liter of Coke? We mused on our good fortune in terms of weather and freedom as a Black-backed Grosbeak brightened my day past 100% brightness.
Back on the road in no time. Can we help it? It's so addicting. It's like the road is one all powerful siren that sings us towards its mysteries. A Giant Hummingbird flutters in my peripheries: its movements clearly slow-motion.
~I don't care about pollution, I'm an air-conditioned gypsy~
Pisaq: time to leave our asphalt mistress. Goodbye to her certainty, to her comforts.
We attempt to discover a dirt trail that Victor let us in on. We cling to the Urubamba River, where I see Yellow-Finch species in a completely candid moment.
Our paved confidence carries on as we speed down this unknown trail. But this foolishness catches up with us when Eli plows into a mud patch, careening and serpentining his way to the other side. Right on his ass, I brake quickly and nearly drop her. A friendly farmer pulls me out and redirects me.
After winding through a tight riverside forest of Eucalyptus, we reach our dead end. Dogs hound us on our way back out. Two tiny dogs team up on Eli and rip at his pants as he speeds by.
Then we're at Taray, where Eli remarks "Well, I think we've found Taray." Luckily, more dirt follows. Unluckily, we make another wrong turn down a small access trail to a cornfield. Eli hits the dirt as children head to the fields with backpack sprayers of chemicals. But he brushes it off like a big boy, and we're back on our feet in no time. This time on the right trail.
And oh is it right. SO right. We absolutely haul ass for miles and miles, never leaving el Río Urubamba, nuestro compadre. The whole scene is one of the past. The world that we have entered and are exploring on our own accord is refreshingly not modern. The road is dirt. It parallels the wide valley of corn. Vehicles are sparse. Rules are absent. Birds and nature are present. And man the scenery. Perú is so many things, and I cannot even begin to describe the culmination of its diverse terrain.
During my lead, I put an end to a lasting nemesis here: the Aplomado Falcon. It rises awkwardly from the trail, revealing its B&W, geometrically perfect tail. Passing underneath, its rich rufous, white, and blue tones project downwards. There is something special about a Falcon...
Miles and miles of flight and groundedness. The moment is always the present when freedom is the only governor.
That does not mean that reality cannot touch us. In our case, reality was a dead battery that struck my bike mid turnaround (we took a wrong turn in Huycho). We troubleshot a bit and called our boy, who confirmed that Eli's idea of a rolling start was our only option. I'll be damned if it didn't work!
Eli Troubleshooting
And that was our strategy any time we found it necessary to leave the bikes for a moment. But it wasn't necessary very often. We came to ride.
So we continued to burn through the Andean countryside, zig-zagging along the river and flying along flood control structures until we reached civilization again. But there was some misinterpretation of the "bike trail" along the way, and we ended up navigating some tight streets with lots of obstacles. Aqueduct designed streets with vendors, kids, and casual kick-backs. It was a miracle that we made it out of there without falling in a ditch.
That put us in Urubamba, where we debated our next move. Head to the end of the line at Ollantaytambo or make the climb to Chinchero?
Well not much was waiting for us in Ollantaytambo, so we decided to head to Chinchero in search of some more dirt. My old girl struggled up the mountains, but she wouldn't be defeated. It wasn't long before we were on top of the world, face-to-face with the Tekse Apus. And they were disgruntled. A formidable stormfront greeted us with lightning and chilly breezes.
We sought out some water and shelter in the form of an open shed, where we chilled out, chatted, and ate snacks. The scenery was impressive, and we watched the storm like the unfolding of a conflict in a soap opera.
Eventually we grew restless and decided to explore the high Andean countryside, maybe search out some off-road potential.
And that we did. Racing around the chacras on dirt roads, I'm sure we both felt the same happiness in the moment.
At one point, we reached an idyllic stretch of grassy trail. You better believe we pushed our limits on the return, having learned the terrain. Eli later remarked that he expected to have seen a leprechaun at any moment. It was such fitting description of the landscape.
Something in the Air
At Laguna Huaypo
Mutually satisfied, we decided to begin the ride back, which was distinct from our route so far. It was all highway. Through Chinchero and Poroy, we upped our paved miles. And we hit our top speed in the downhill: 75 mph.
Eventually that spit us out at the western side of Cusco, an area that neither of us were really all that familiar with. The best way to describe our return to the urban center was mayhem. Everybody on the road was making strategic moves as if we were racing to find El Dorado. Meanwhile, a group of people paraded a coffin down the street with the accompaniment of a live band.
Eli and I then fiddled around, trying to get our bearings and make our way towards something familiar. It was at this point that Eli pointed out my very flat rear tire. Fortunately, we got oriented and limped back to the rental agency.
Victor was very embarrassed by the poor condition of the bike and refunded 50%. So... I rented a motorcycle for a day and rode the hell out of it all over kingdom come for about $18.
I'd say that's a successful day.
I then accompanied Eli to a chifa restaurant, where I enjoyed an ice cream cone.
Eventually that spit us out at the western side of Cusco, an area that neither of us were really all that familiar with. The best way to describe our return to the urban center was mayhem. Everybody on the road was making strategic moves as if we were racing to find El Dorado. Meanwhile, a group of people paraded a coffin down the street with the accompaniment of a live band.
Eli and I then fiddled around, trying to get our bearings and make our way towards something familiar. It was at this point that Eli pointed out my very flat rear tire. Fortunately, we got oriented and limped back to the rental agency.
Victor was very embarrassed by the poor condition of the bike and refunded 50%. So... I rented a motorcycle for a day and rode the hell out of it all over kingdom come for about $18.
I'd say that's a successful day.
I then accompanied Eli to a chifa restaurant, where I enjoyed an ice cream cone.
Oh, that explains the looks
Our stats on the day:
We really hauled ass. If there was any time to be wasted (there was not), we didn't waste it.
I'm amazed at how easy it is to get over to the Sacred Valley, it's just right there.
We spent about 100 miles on the road, probably over 30 off-road. Not a bad proportion in our eyes.
Four lifers on the week.
Four lifers on the week.
What an awesome experience you are having. You are such a good and entertaining writer.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much!
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