I usually share my bus stop with two bulls. Today as I was walking into school four of them (herded by a ten year old girl with a stick!!) were hanging out outside the entrance ot the school. And then when I left I hung out with a sheep who had the longest horns I have ever seen.
My family also bought a hutch filled with guinea pigs for future eating. I am very happy not to be partaking in that meal.
I had my first cusquena beer yesterday, which is kind of funny considering that our house is a depository. People come at all hours of the day and night (earliest, 5am, latest, 1am) to pick up cases of beer and carry them off in blankets tied around their shoulders. Last night Sonya (four months pregnant) begged her husband to let her have a tiny bit of beer. When we all laughed at her, she just said "I´m thirsty". Ferdinand poured us all tiny glasses for a toast and we all toasted and had little sips except for sonja, who downed hers. When we all laughed at her she just said "I was thirsty."
Finally, a much needed dentist came to the school and painted the kids teeth with fluoride. I have never seen teeth so bad on such small children--black gums, teeth rotted completely out or rotted down to little stumps...it´s awful. They were all washed with fluoride and taught how to brush after having swordfights and digging around the play area with their toothbrushes. Maybe it will help?
The kids can´t believe I flew in an airplane. Planes don´t even fly overhead here because of the mountains.
I have, thankfully, four more death defying collectivo rides before I leave Peru. I am so grateful.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Developments...
Well...since my last entry quite a few things have happened.
The strike got bigger. The teachers expanded to the transportation industry, which then expanded to the shopkeepers (protesting the price of food--bread prices have doubled and tripled in teh few months since Garcia came into power) which then extended to the campesinos. It got interesting. Last WEdnesday there were several marches and I wandered down to the square to see what was going on. SOme of the speeches were in spanish, some in quechua, depending on which group was speaking and protesting and which time. It was pretty fascinating for me, not so fascinating for the tourists who had to leave. Part of the transportation strike was to pile massive boulders across teh road so cars couldn´t pass and then built a massive fire just in case the boulders weren´t enough of a deterrent. There is really only one road out of town, so it´s hard to get around the blockades. It is sort of possible to take a back road all the way around through the mountains (kind of a class six by our standards) the sixty miles or so to Cuzco, but that way I think it´s closer to 100. They called off school fro me for the day, which was fine, so I didn´t have to go anywhere, but there were lots of tourists stranded trying to get to airports and connectiions.
Thursday things gota bit more exciting. Hannah (the british girl in the house with me) and I wandered down in the morning to see what was up and witnessed a mob of campesinos attacking tourist buses. Fortunately the tourists weren´t on them. They broke into the buses, drove them out of town, and blockaded them in with rocks. The tourists blissfully wandering around the inca fortress had no idea. THey also piled rocks across the train tracks, blocking the only way in and out of Macchu Picchu, a non refundable trip of anywhere from 45 to $450. Numerous tourists ended up stranded on the train--there were pictures of them inside crying with campesinos outside shouting and throwing rocks.
We came back to the house for lunch and I went for a walk afterwards. On my way back I passed through the eerily quiet square and headed home. Fifteen minutes later Sonya and COralee (Host family mother and daughter) came running into the house shouting about a fight in the square. SHortly after sonya opeened the door and called in a mother, grandmother, and daughter, who were hiding in our little side street. We could hear shouting, a few gunshots, a lot more shouting, people screaming and running, and then suddenly there was smoke everywhere--they had tear gased the crowd in hopes of dispersing (no luck) but everyone else was screaming and sobbing, terrified. Sonya wet a bunch of washcloths to put over our faces (did I mention there isn´t much of an inside in my house? There was no "going in" to escape the tear gas. We were all standing on the second floor trying to see what was happening, but all we could see were a small crowd watching and several police running and shouting. I kept hearing the words "nos falta dos policia" and "muerto" (we´re mising two police) and (dead), and then a woman started screaming "donde esta mi hijo?" (where´s my son) and sobbing as she ran through the side streets looking for him.
Apparently this was covered int eh new york times last week but i haven´t seen the article.
It turns out, nobody is dead, although one boy is stil unconscous in the hospital. The police had been thrown inteh river and had hypothermia but nothing worse. Seven people ended up in jail, the ringleader is still in hiding, and the protesters (after the price of bread and wheat) achieved little.
It was exciting and a bit scary until I watched the news that night. In lima, the airport was blockaded, firebombs were going off in teh streets, and there were a few people dead. In Puno (next on my list to visit) there were cars burning, the nearby airport in Juliaca was on fire, and there were reports of all buses being stoppe3d outside of town and the people forced to get off and walk while all their belonggings went missing. Similarly in Arequipa and the road between where I live and Lima. Every highway was closed for a few days, as well as the train, and the president was pleading for peace.
Did I mention that the protesters were shouting "que muera el presidente" or may the president die...
On friday I went to cusco and the roads were partially cleared. there were boulders and ashes everywhere. Apparently one of the boulders had knocked a bus with 24 passengers off the road, killing all of them and the driver. The drive to Cusco is terrifying as is...it doesn´t need deadly boulders cluttering the roads.
Things are somewhat back to normal now, although teh american and british embassies have encouraged tourists to lay low and avoid traveling between cusco, arequipa, and puno, which kind of threw a wrench in my travel plans. After the whole experience last week, however, I am very, very ready to come home. My family and STA travel managed to change my tickets (and Dan too, of course) so I´ll be leaving on Tuesday. I´m feeling very, very relieved to be heading out. I love it here but I´m not ready to travel alone through these conditions. This has pointed out to me that I would make a terrible journalist, but that´s ok. Journalists, as far as I know, don´t have to hang out in a war zone and then return to teach high school, which is a war zone in itself. I think I´m entitled to spend my last few weeks of vacation resting at home.
The strike got bigger. The teachers expanded to the transportation industry, which then expanded to the shopkeepers (protesting the price of food--bread prices have doubled and tripled in teh few months since Garcia came into power) which then extended to the campesinos. It got interesting. Last WEdnesday there were several marches and I wandered down to the square to see what was going on. SOme of the speeches were in spanish, some in quechua, depending on which group was speaking and protesting and which time. It was pretty fascinating for me, not so fascinating for the tourists who had to leave. Part of the transportation strike was to pile massive boulders across teh road so cars couldn´t pass and then built a massive fire just in case the boulders weren´t enough of a deterrent. There is really only one road out of town, so it´s hard to get around the blockades. It is sort of possible to take a back road all the way around through the mountains (kind of a class six by our standards) the sixty miles or so to Cuzco, but that way I think it´s closer to 100. They called off school fro me for the day, which was fine, so I didn´t have to go anywhere, but there were lots of tourists stranded trying to get to airports and connectiions.
Thursday things gota bit more exciting. Hannah (the british girl in the house with me) and I wandered down in the morning to see what was up and witnessed a mob of campesinos attacking tourist buses. Fortunately the tourists weren´t on them. They broke into the buses, drove them out of town, and blockaded them in with rocks. The tourists blissfully wandering around the inca fortress had no idea. THey also piled rocks across the train tracks, blocking the only way in and out of Macchu Picchu, a non refundable trip of anywhere from 45 to $450. Numerous tourists ended up stranded on the train--there were pictures of them inside crying with campesinos outside shouting and throwing rocks.
We came back to the house for lunch and I went for a walk afterwards. On my way back I passed through the eerily quiet square and headed home. Fifteen minutes later Sonya and COralee (Host family mother and daughter) came running into the house shouting about a fight in the square. SHortly after sonya opeened the door and called in a mother, grandmother, and daughter, who were hiding in our little side street. We could hear shouting, a few gunshots, a lot more shouting, people screaming and running, and then suddenly there was smoke everywhere--they had tear gased the crowd in hopes of dispersing (no luck) but everyone else was screaming and sobbing, terrified. Sonya wet a bunch of washcloths to put over our faces (did I mention there isn´t much of an inside in my house? There was no "going in" to escape the tear gas. We were all standing on the second floor trying to see what was happening, but all we could see were a small crowd watching and several police running and shouting. I kept hearing the words "nos falta dos policia" and "muerto" (we´re mising two police) and (dead), and then a woman started screaming "donde esta mi hijo?" (where´s my son) and sobbing as she ran through the side streets looking for him.
Apparently this was covered int eh new york times last week but i haven´t seen the article.
It turns out, nobody is dead, although one boy is stil unconscous in the hospital. The police had been thrown inteh river and had hypothermia but nothing worse. Seven people ended up in jail, the ringleader is still in hiding, and the protesters (after the price of bread and wheat) achieved little.
It was exciting and a bit scary until I watched the news that night. In lima, the airport was blockaded, firebombs were going off in teh streets, and there were a few people dead. In Puno (next on my list to visit) there were cars burning, the nearby airport in Juliaca was on fire, and there were reports of all buses being stoppe3d outside of town and the people forced to get off and walk while all their belonggings went missing. Similarly in Arequipa and the road between where I live and Lima. Every highway was closed for a few days, as well as the train, and the president was pleading for peace.
Did I mention that the protesters were shouting "que muera el presidente" or may the president die...
On friday I went to cusco and the roads were partially cleared. there were boulders and ashes everywhere. Apparently one of the boulders had knocked a bus with 24 passengers off the road, killing all of them and the driver. The drive to Cusco is terrifying as is...it doesn´t need deadly boulders cluttering the roads.
Things are somewhat back to normal now, although teh american and british embassies have encouraged tourists to lay low and avoid traveling between cusco, arequipa, and puno, which kind of threw a wrench in my travel plans. After the whole experience last week, however, I am very, very ready to come home. My family and STA travel managed to change my tickets (and Dan too, of course) so I´ll be leaving on Tuesday. I´m feeling very, very relieved to be heading out. I love it here but I´m not ready to travel alone through these conditions. This has pointed out to me that I would make a terrible journalist, but that´s ok. Journalists, as far as I know, don´t have to hang out in a war zone and then return to teach high school, which is a war zone in itself. I think I´m entitled to spend my last few weeks of vacation resting at home.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
The new seven wonders
Macchu Picchu is now one of the enw seven wonders of the world. There was a world wide vote and it won, on the day I was there. Kind if interesting. There were a couple of camera crews there, but not many. There was, however, a massive party down in teh town of Aguas Calientes with dancing and music and balloons.
I discovered that there are a lot ofthings the guide books don´t tell you.
1. you need to pay for everything in dollars --train, etrnace fee, bus ticket
2. they don´t give you any hint as far as how to find the path up to the ruins
3. they don´t tell you that you have to buy your ticket from teh office in aguas calientes and that the entrance gate doesn´t sell them
As a result, I just barely made th bus, ince I had to run around like a madwoman five minutes before it left trying to figure out where to buy my ticket to get in. I made it, though, and at 5:30 am I was deposted with about 400 other tourists at teh entrance gate, where I had to wait 20 minutes in line. They tell you no food or disposable water bottles alowed but they don´t actualyl check your bag unless it is exceptionally large. Fortunately I was wearing my many etra layers of clothing and my bag wasn´t too big so I got to sneak in my bread and oranges.
The ruins are amazing. I hiked up Huaynu Picchu, the big mountain in teh back (terrifyingly steep--if you look at a picture it´s the left hand side, switchbacks, and there´s nothing in between you and the thousand foot drop to the bottom of the mountain. There are a lot of walks and climbs like that there--the incas had no fear of heights. their stairs are just random stones set into the sides of buildings, stone walls, etc. sometimes tey go up five feet, sometimes 20 or 30. I could definitely not have survived in their culture. I couldn´t even make it out to the Puente Inca...although considering it´s a bridge spanning a massive 1000 (at least, maybe more) foot drop, I guess that makes sense.
At the moment there are not only teachers strikes but a massive transportation strike. I can´t get out of the village here. It´s kind of annoying but kind of interesting. Earlier all the shopkeepers were on strike too so I couldn´t even buy any water. I did finally find on tahtt was open to buy some laundry detergent. I´getting good at the bucket and washboard method. It´s kind of fun.
I discovered that there are a lot ofthings the guide books don´t tell you.
1. you need to pay for everything in dollars --train, etrnace fee, bus ticket
2. they don´t give you any hint as far as how to find the path up to the ruins
3. they don´t tell you that you have to buy your ticket from teh office in aguas calientes and that the entrance gate doesn´t sell them
As a result, I just barely made th bus, ince I had to run around like a madwoman five minutes before it left trying to figure out where to buy my ticket to get in. I made it, though, and at 5:30 am I was deposted with about 400 other tourists at teh entrance gate, where I had to wait 20 minutes in line. They tell you no food or disposable water bottles alowed but they don´t actualyl check your bag unless it is exceptionally large. Fortunately I was wearing my many etra layers of clothing and my bag wasn´t too big so I got to sneak in my bread and oranges.
The ruins are amazing. I hiked up Huaynu Picchu, the big mountain in teh back (terrifyingly steep--if you look at a picture it´s the left hand side, switchbacks, and there´s nothing in between you and the thousand foot drop to the bottom of the mountain. There are a lot of walks and climbs like that there--the incas had no fear of heights. their stairs are just random stones set into the sides of buildings, stone walls, etc. sometimes tey go up five feet, sometimes 20 or 30. I could definitely not have survived in their culture. I couldn´t even make it out to the Puente Inca...although considering it´s a bridge spanning a massive 1000 (at least, maybe more) foot drop, I guess that makes sense.
At the moment there are not only teachers strikes but a massive transportation strike. I can´t get out of the village here. It´s kind of annoying but kind of interesting. Earlier all the shopkeepers were on strike too so I couldn´t even buy any water. I did finally find on tahtt was open to buy some laundry detergent. I´getting good at the bucket and washboard method. It´s kind of fun.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
at last a working computer
I have been trying for days to get a computer that actually allowed this page to open. Alas, after an incredubly frustrating afternoon of miscommunication and getting hopelessly lost in Urubamba (the town where I am in a relatively high speed internet cafe at the moment) I managed to find one.
So...
Education here is very, very different. THe organization I´m here with really wants us to introduce the idea of multiple intelligences into the classroom. As a result, I´ve had tos it through two long workshops discussing what the 8 intelligences are. Incredibly boring for someone who´s already completed one masters in education and is halfway through a second. It´s also fairly futile because the way things work here is this. The students sit in their little seats facing the teacher and wait patiently while she gives a lecture, then they go up one by one to the board to try and complete it. This would be a futile exercise with any age, but it´s especially taxing at 3. My job is to keep them all quiet and in their seats while the teacher is working with them one on one up at the board. I´m getting really good at saying "we don´t run int he classroom" and "where is your seat" and "please don´t hit her withthe chair" but I´m not doing much along the lines of multiple intelligences.
The US soccer team has been invited to play int he Copa de America, but they have made a very poor showing. They lost their first two games pretty soundly (but then again,so did Brazil) and I think they´re permanently out now. It was kind of embarassing to watch with my host family. The fahter kept saying "malo, malo" every time they missed setting up ad ecent shot on goal, which was pretty much evey time they got the ball into the other end.
I am rapidly running out of time to write.
Driving here is one of hte most terrifying things i could possibly imagine.there are lines on the road but nobody pasy attention and they drive on whicheverside they please and pass only on really steep and terrifying corners. fortunately there´s a shrine to the Virgin Mary on one of them to protect us if another car happens to be coming the other way. there´s no sped limit that i can think of, which doesn´t really matter becaues the cars are so packed full of people that they can´t go very fast. Nobody has their own car here. instead, you stand on the side of the road and wait for a very full minibus called a colectivo. I take one every day to the school. they are usually packed full of random goods that the campesinos are taking to the bigger towns to sell, porters who are on their way back home from the camino inca, kids going to and from school, and always a fair share of mothers with long braids and babies tied to their backs with blankets. These are the same blankets that teh porters use to transport propane canisters, 5 gallon water jugs, tourist packs, etc. You wait onthe side of the road for one of these to pass andhold out your arm, palm down, as if your writst is broken. the bus will usually pull over, even if it´s so full your only option is to stand with your face in an old man´s hat and your butt pressed up against he window. Even when you don´t think it´s possible to cram in another person, the bus will stop for a little old lady with three enormous bags and all will get packed in. THe collectivos cost about 30 cents fora 30 minute ride (their only good quality).
Arrggghhh!!! I´m almost out of time. I fully intend to describe in painful detail the process of eating cuy, the national dish. Translation: guinea pig. it can be eaten roasted or stewed, and i was lucky enough to have it stewed. The problem is that they have to be purchased live at the market, so I got to watcht he whole process from beginning to end. And they do use the intestines to flavor the stew...cleaning out guinea big innards s one of the most foul things i have ever witnessed. well,not really, it was only foul because i knew i was going to have to eat them shortly.
guinea pig, if you´re owndering, is greasy and fatty. It tastes nothing like chicken.
i also think i ate a hot dog for the first time in 17 or 18 years, maybe more. Just as foul as I remembered them being. It was sliced up into an omelette.
So...
Education here is very, very different. THe organization I´m here with really wants us to introduce the idea of multiple intelligences into the classroom. As a result, I´ve had tos it through two long workshops discussing what the 8 intelligences are. Incredibly boring for someone who´s already completed one masters in education and is halfway through a second. It´s also fairly futile because the way things work here is this. The students sit in their little seats facing the teacher and wait patiently while she gives a lecture, then they go up one by one to the board to try and complete it. This would be a futile exercise with any age, but it´s especially taxing at 3. My job is to keep them all quiet and in their seats while the teacher is working with them one on one up at the board. I´m getting really good at saying "we don´t run int he classroom" and "where is your seat" and "please don´t hit her withthe chair" but I´m not doing much along the lines of multiple intelligences.
The US soccer team has been invited to play int he Copa de America, but they have made a very poor showing. They lost their first two games pretty soundly (but then again,so did Brazil) and I think they´re permanently out now. It was kind of embarassing to watch with my host family. The fahter kept saying "malo, malo" every time they missed setting up ad ecent shot on goal, which was pretty much evey time they got the ball into the other end.
I am rapidly running out of time to write.
Driving here is one of hte most terrifying things i could possibly imagine.there are lines on the road but nobody pasy attention and they drive on whicheverside they please and pass only on really steep and terrifying corners. fortunately there´s a shrine to the Virgin Mary on one of them to protect us if another car happens to be coming the other way. there´s no sped limit that i can think of, which doesn´t really matter becaues the cars are so packed full of people that they can´t go very fast. Nobody has their own car here. instead, you stand on the side of the road and wait for a very full minibus called a colectivo. I take one every day to the school. they are usually packed full of random goods that the campesinos are taking to the bigger towns to sell, porters who are on their way back home from the camino inca, kids going to and from school, and always a fair share of mothers with long braids and babies tied to their backs with blankets. These are the same blankets that teh porters use to transport propane canisters, 5 gallon water jugs, tourist packs, etc. You wait onthe side of the road for one of these to pass andhold out your arm, palm down, as if your writst is broken. the bus will usually pull over, even if it´s so full your only option is to stand with your face in an old man´s hat and your butt pressed up against he window. Even when you don´t think it´s possible to cram in another person, the bus will stop for a little old lady with three enormous bags and all will get packed in. THe collectivos cost about 30 cents fora 30 minute ride (their only good quality).
Arrggghhh!!! I´m almost out of time. I fully intend to describe in painful detail the process of eating cuy, the national dish. Translation: guinea pig. it can be eaten roasted or stewed, and i was lucky enough to have it stewed. The problem is that they have to be purchased live at the market, so I got to watcht he whole process from beginning to end. And they do use the intestines to flavor the stew...cleaning out guinea big innards s one of the most foul things i have ever witnessed. well,not really, it was only foul because i knew i was going to have to eat them shortly.
guinea pig, if you´re owndering, is greasy and fatty. It tastes nothing like chicken.
i also think i ate a hot dog for the first time in 17 or 18 years, maybe more. Just as foul as I remembered them being. It was sliced up into an omelette.
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