Hiking, Chasing Dogs & Our Last Service in Huánuco

Orgullio and I with the Incan Crown. 

My friends, Katrina and I have had our last church service in Huánuco. Thursday we fly back to Callao and fate will decide if we ever see our Huanucenan friends again. Let’s recap.

In true Huanuco style, this week began and concluded with a few hikes. Monday we loaded up in a collectivo (shared taxi) and headed to Corona del Inca (the Incan Crown) with Orgullo, Victor and Olinda. The Incan Crown isn’t ruins, it’s actually just a collection of giant rocks in the shape of a crown. We crawled in and out of all of the rocks, taking sporadic jumping pictures along the way and taking turns falling down on the way back. After the crown, we went had a little Picante de Cuy (guinea pig) for lunch, then headed home.

Katrina, Eynor and I gettin' our Bingo on. 

Wednesday was our next big day, starting out with a trip to the pool with Eynor. Unfortunately, Eynor’s favorite pool was closed, so we had to go to the awkward pool that’s inside of a bar. This means that you flop around in the water and creepy men in a corner drink beer and watch you. Fun, right?

Anyway, after our pool show, we showered up and got ready for the Unheval Anniversary Celebration. Unheval is the school that Eynor attends and where Orlando teaches and apparently its anniversary is a big deal, since the students got three days off school to celebrate it. After sharing some coffee and fantastic tamales with Orlando, we headed down to Unheval to watch dances the students had prepared.

Guinea pig anyone? 

We showed up in time to watch 4^th – 11^th grade perform their dances. A majority of the classes chose to perform dances from the jungle and were decked out in face paint and grass skirt. A few groups chose to pefrom dances from the mountains and a few chose the ever popular dance of the “negritos.” After the dances, we treated ourselves to some less than healthy food from street vendors and prepared for the main event: BINGO! I’m not sure why, Peruvian Bingo is a little different; instead of making a line across the board, you form a letter out of your bingo markers. For example, one round you had to make the letter C around the edges of the Bingo board. Unfortunately, nobody from our group won the 300 sole main prize, but we rather enjoyed ourselves while trying to.

Friday we had a home visit in Junin with Victor and a few of his children. While we had some fierce competition (the season finale of Esto es Guerra was on tv) it was nice to sit and chat with them. Victor and his family often don’t make it to church in Huancachupa, but they are undeniably an integral part of the family and the community here.

(From top left) Henry, Silveria, Cristian, myself and Eynor. 

Saturday was our next hiking adventure, this time in Huacora, the pueblo where Orlando and his brothers and sisters grew up. We started the day with breakfast at Silveria's house in Pampas, the pueblo just below Huacora. We chatted, had some sopa verde and played with the cuy that were scampering around her kitchen (yes… we played with our food.)

After that, we made the 40 minute hike up to Huacora, where the altitude kicked my butt. You get out of breath at that kind of altitude and it hurts to get it back. Eventually, we made it up to Huacora, put on a little sun block, and took a siesta in the late morning sun.

After we regained our strength, we hiked around Huacora, jumping around the rocks and running down the hills (while trying not to fall on our faces.) Hungry and exhausted, we hopped a collective back to Huánuco, then went straight to Pizza Hut to treat Eynor and Cristian to their first ever slice of pizza. The verdict: Eynor says pizza is a 1 on a scale of 1-10 (10 being delicious.)

Cristian, Katrina and Henry jumping for joy in Huacora. 

And that brings us our last church service in Huánuco. Things started out a little slow—the service is supposed to start at 5 p.m. and by 5:30 p.m. we only had two attendees: Eynor and Grandpa Antonio. Determined to make things happen, we went ahead and started the service, and by the time Katrina started preaching our attendance was up to 12.

Perhaps my favorite part of the service was singing a round of “Gloria Al Senor” where everyone sang in rounds, jumping up and down campfire-style (Grandpa Antonio included.) After that, there was a little time for testimonies, and it gave me a lot of hope to hear Vanessa, Orlando, Eynor and Grandpa Antonio happily share their stories.

Mojada's new boo. 

After church wrapped up, we shared some bread and juice with the family to celebrate our last service in Huánuco, then spent a few hours playing Phase 10 with Henry, Noel and Vanessa. Something I love about the congregation is that there are so many people in Katrina and I’s age group that are game to just sit and play cards for a few hours. There was a very church-camp relaxed feeling about it and it was a wonderful way to end our last Sunday in Huánuco.

And—that’s about it. We’re trying to plan some fun things for our last few days here, then Thursday it’s Adios to Huánuco. In the meantime, my newest hobby is kicking all of Mojada’s “suitors” out of the yard. Mojada is in heat for the first time in her young life and I believe she now has more boyfriends that I’ve had in my entire life. I’ve taken up the hobby of chasing them away and locking them out of the yard like an overprotective father, although I must admit, she has some very handsome choices. They’ll just have to wait until her mother hen goes back to Callao. Until next time!

Farewells and Fiestas

The day has come: the Herrera house is two men short. Last week, both Jimmy and Tonio left Huánuco to start a new chapter of their journey in the medical field.

Now—there’s a lot to explain with how the Peruvian medical field works, and I’m going to try to do it as briefly as possible, so bear with me folks.

Tonio (left) and Jimmy. 

The majority of health workers in Peru want to work for a government-run health facility. Why? Better pay, better job security and the government gives medical students some kind of tuition break. How do you work for a government health facility? You jump through their hoops, including six years of college.

Jimmy and Tonio are both in the process of finishing up those six years. Jimmy is further along and this year will be his last requirement for the program: completing a one-year term working as an obstetrician. On the other hand, Tonio is working on a one-year internship; afterwards, he has more classes and his one-year work term to complete. Are you lost yet?

Anyway, for these mandatory internships and work-terms, the government can send you anywhere in Peru—the coast, the jungle, the mountains—anywhere.  In Tonio’s case, his placement was partially determined by a test score, and he was a sent to a place a few hours away from Huánuco called Puerto Inca.

In Jimmy’s case, placements were completely random; and with over 300 students looking for placements and less than 200 places, not everybody gets a position. If you get selected, great—if you don’t, you look for something private until you can find something better. Unfortunately, Jimmy didn’t receive a random placement, but went to Iquitos in spite of that and has already found some private work.

A dose of potatoes for papa rellena. 

So—to begin these new adventures, Jimmy left last Tuesday and Tonio left last Thursday. Our goodbyes for our two brothers reflected their personalities. Jimmy is an extroverted, sociable person with a contagious personality. For his goodbye, there were cheers all around, a few tears from the family and a photo shoot in the living room. Tonio, on the other hand is more subtle and calm than Jimmy. For his goodbye, we simply exchanged hugs, well-wishes and bid him farewell. While the goodbyes were different, neither was particularly easy; yet, it’s comforting to know that they’re leaving to tackle exciting new adventures.

With the boys’ absence, it became clear more than just their presence would be missed—they were an essential part of Orlando and Carolina’s morning routine. Carolina is a street vendor that sells papa rellena and a few other dishes. Carolina and Orlando wake up around 4 a.m. every day to peel potatoes, make papa rellena, prepare sauces, cook rice and spaghetti and do a number of other chores around the house (cook meals for the family, feed the chicken and the cuy (guinea pigs), hand wash laundry, etc.) So, in a feeble attempt to help with this list of chores, Katrina and I decided to wake up at 4 a.m. on Friday to see what we could contribute.

Katrina and I with the birthday boy, Antonio! 

The morning began with Katrina, Orlando and I sitting around a large container, peeling the skins off potatoes with spoons. After that, Orlando mashed the potatoes, cleverly using the juicer, while Katrina and I peeled hard-boiled eggs. From there, we formed the mashed potatoes into cylindrical lumps, stuffing pieces of hard-boiled egg and adding spoonfuls of a sauce made with paprika and onions. For our first day, that was as far as our help could go, but it was fun to be in the kitchen to watch Carolina and Orlando perform their magic: making mayonnaise (nobody buys mayonnaise here, everyone makes it), making ají (a spicy sauce made with chili peppers), adding ingredients to make arroz chaufa (Chinese rice), etc.

By the end of the affair, Katrina and I were exhausted (and we didn’t even do the hard work.) And here’s a window into the work ethic of Carolina: she prepares the papa rellena and does chores from 4 a.m. to 9 a.m., sells papa rellena from her street cart from 9:30 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., does shopping for supplies in the market from 7:00 p.m. to 7:30 p.m., gets home around 8 p.m., then heats up dinner for everyone. Her moment of rest during the day is watching a telenovela with Katrina and I from 9:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m., then she goes to bed to prepare to do it all over again. She does this six days a week, only resting on Sundays. You won’t find many that work harder than Carolina.

The band for Antonio's birthday party. 

And here is why this blog post is giant: because the goodbyes and our papa rellena experiment were just the prequel to the weekend ahead of us. Saturday was a huge day, because it was Grandpa Antonio’s birthday. I asked various people how old Grandpa Antonio was and I always got the answer, “Uhhh, eighty-something.” So, happy eighty-something birthday, Antonio!

Now—we’ve seen our fair share of birthday parties in Peru, including the grand celebration we had for Aunt Chachi’s 50^th birthday—but I’m going to go ahead and say that Grandpa Antonio’s birthday celebration takes the cake. There were at least 35 people there and the occasion called for Rollen, Orlando’s brother, to kill one of his big pigs for us to eat. We had chicarron, which is essentially fried pork, and it was one of the best things I’ve eaten during my year in Peru. Simply fantastic.

Lots of Antonio's grandchildren at his party! 

After stuffing ourselves full of chicarron, the music and the dancing began. For the really big parties in Peru, it’s common practice to hire a band. The bands require three types of payment: money, food and beverage. No beer? No band. The family provided all the required and the band played from about 1 p.m. to 7 p.m. And the family danced the entire time (which basically meant someone grabbed Katrina and I’s hands and WE danced the entire time.) Huánuco is known for a type of music called wino and I’m not going to try to describe it, other than saying it’s distinct and you should Google it. There was also the Peruvian version of drinking, where there is a bottle of beer and small cup, and everyone passes around the beer and small cup, filling the cup up with about a shot of beer, drinking it, then passes it. The final effect, after the bottled slowly winds around the crowd, is that nobody gets intoxicated, but everyone gets a little bloated.

With Noel and Cristian at Antonio's party. 

After the band left, the party wound down, but continued. About 10 people, including Katrina and myself, pulled chairs into a circle, bundled up against the night air and chatted until 10 p.m. when Victor had to get his family home. As much as I despise dancing, the day was wonderful; it’s the most time we’ve ever spent with the extended family in Huánuco, and everyone here has their unique personality and sense of humor. I especially love watching the older women put everyone else to shame on the dance floor, stomping and twisting in complicated but natural patterns.

The weekend wound down on Sunday with our Mother’s Day celebration. About 15 members of Orlando’s extended family trekked to nearby park to eat, relax and celebrate the hard-working mothers. We made the journey there in the back of Rollen’s truck, which was a bumpy, yet entertaining experience. After hours of volleyball, chatting and relay races, we began losing daylight and headed back to Huancachupa.

All of the weekend excitement has overflowed into this week—yesterday we spent the day with Orgullio (Orlando’s uncle) and his friend Victor, roaming around some ruins called the Incan Crown and today we’re taking Eynor and Fabrizio to the pool; however, since this post is already gigantic, you’ll have to wait until next week to hear about that. Until then!  

Our New Career as Peruvian Party Crashers

This week, Katrina and I have discovered we suffer from short-term memory loss.

Mojada aggressively show her affection. 

We finished our last stay in Huánuco last December, just five months ago; since returning, we’ve settled into some things effortlessly (chiefly family dinner.) However, other elements of Huánuco vanished from our minds. Where’s our favorite bread shop? How much does the B bus cost? Which street is Leoncio Prado? Has Mojada always been this bitey?

Little by little, it’s coming back to us (though the bread shop still eludes us.) We got back into the swing of teaching English classes in Huancachupa (with Eynor and two of the neighbors, Estefani and Joseph.) We’ve gotten used to the 4:00 a.m. rooster crows and pig snorts, and a new addition to the morning routine: the 4:30 a.m. wake up bell. We’ve remembered which buckets are best to hand wash your laundry in, which internet cafes have the best connection and carrying around rocks with us as feeble protection from vicious dogs.

This time around we have some new goals for Huanuco, including making regular home visits to. Our two families: Melania’s and Victor’s. Unfortunately, this is easier said than done. Melania  doesn’t have a phone or method of contact right now. Victor has a new baby, under a month old, and works six days a week. Our first arranged home visit was a flop where nobody showed up, but we did have the chance of meeting a new family member, Noel, who happened to be the only person home in Junin when we stopped by.

Crashing Nelle's birthday party--Feliz Cumpleanos! 

So, frustrated with our lack of success, we hatched a plan: just going to show up unannounced in Junin with a class and if anyone consents, we’ll teach it. Solid plan, right?

We showed up in Junin and found the door wide open. Perfect—someone’s home. We let ourselves in and stumbled upon a kitchen and dining room bursting with people. Grandpa Tonio, Grandma Fausta, Victor and his entire family, Henry, Vanessa, and more faces. Seriously, there were probably about 20 people there. Shocked, we quickly learned it was Nelle’s birthday and we had officially become Peruvian party crashers. We made a bit of conversation, slightly ashamed of imposing, but the true awkward explosion came when pollo a la brasa, complete with salad and French fries started being dished up.

Horrified that our party crashing now included eating someone else’s food, we made for our great escape, only to be told that if we left now it would be considered offensive. So after saying goodbye to everyone, we wandered back into the dining room, sat down and ate dinner. Peru excels in hospitality and Katrina and I excel in making normal situations anxiety-ridden and weird. So, we shared, dinner, cake and a little bit of tea with the family, sang happy birthday and headed out when the party was over (determined to, at the very least, not overstay the crashed party.) So—that counts as a home visit, right?

Emily and Imelda at Nelle's birthday party. 

Sunday marked our first church service in Huánuco without Wilfredo. It was rag-tag, but cozy. Our music my favorite part of our service because nobody knows how to play the guitar or keep rhythm with the tambourine, but it didn’t stop us from trying. The result is an out-of-tune guitar strumming random cords, a clinking tambourine, passed from person to person as different people give up on keeping rhythm, and voices desperately trying to find the melody of the song. We might not have rhythm, but darn it, we’ve got spirit.

This week
I preached on the topic of “Break Bread Together” which finally a comfortable theme for me. Lately, writing sermons has been grueling; it makes me question what exactly I believe, if I’m worthy of preaching, if I have any insight and, perhaps most distinctly, if I’m on my soap box (otherwise known as preaching.) Yet this time around, after months of struggling, things came easily and I think my delivery was decent.

In true Peruvian fashion, church started over 30 minutes late and most of our attendees arrived about an hour late; however, the important part is that we HAD attendees, including Noel.

Estefani from English Class. 

After church, we went with Jimmy, Noel and Henry to see Spider Man 2. Lately, we’ve been trying to plan more things with Jimmy, because tonight he leaves to start an exciting year of his obstetrician residency away from Huanuco; this is a fantastic and amazing stage in his life that unfortunately, forces Katrina and I to address the elephant that’s been in our room for some time: final goodbyes are coming.

Let me stop here clarify. A year and a half ago I spent an amazing two weeks in Guatemala. When it came time to say goodbye to my host mom, Melida, she told us, “Don’t say ‘I’ll come back and visit,’ because everyone wants to, but few do. Life happens. Just say, ‘Goodbye’ and if our paths meet again, let it be a happy surprise.’” Those words stick with me; because I would love to come back one day and visit Peru. I plan to do this—but not any time particularly soon and, like Melida said, sometimes life happens. The point: you can’t count on us all seeing each other again. And even if we do, it won’t have the same feeling and sentiment that this year has had.

Jimmy & Eynor trying to be tough. 

Spider Man 2 hardly justifies the notion of, “Goodbye, forever, thank you for your amazing influence in my life.” but it was a first feeble attempt. Tonight, we shall have a final one, sure to be tear-filled and sappy and not remotely similar the adventures of Peter Parker.

And—that’s about where we stand. An odd limbo where we’re settling in, yet facing those goodbyes that we’ve consistently avoid talking about. Until, all we can do is carry on. Capture the dogs with Eynor and forcefully bathing them, serving the family 9 p.m. coffee (because that seems to be the only time anyone wants to drink it here), and laughing with the family about life. Yet before I can get too sappy on you about all of this, I should probably end this post—because the next one will include not only our sappy goodbye to Jimmy, but our sappy goodbye to our other host brother, Tonio as well. So prepare your Kleenex boxes folks—because Katrina and I are preparing ours. Until next time!

The Winding Road to Huanuco

I sit here writing in the warm Huanuco sun, cuddled up against little Oso and watching a sheep wander curiously through the yard, occasionally getting scolded for going in the kitchen. Yes, Huanuco, it’s good to be back.

Birthday girl Karen and her mom, Graciela.

Of course last week started in Callao, finishing up business and celebrating Karen’s 23^rd birthday on Tuesday night (yes, there was cake). But before we knew it, Wednesday was upon us and at 6 a.m. Wilfredo, Rocio (our host sister), Gladys (our host cousin), Katrina and I packed up El Comandante (the car) and began our journey to Huanuco.

Oh Wednesday. Black Wednesday. Wicked Wednesday. Wednesday of Doom. We weaved out of Lima traffic and into the mountains and within an hour I knew: today would not be my day. Vomit number one was orange, liquidy and finished its journey in a Peruvian Airlines bag I stole on our trip to Cusco. I ate some “chifles” or banana chips (don’t worry, they are fried and completely unhealthy) immediately afterwards because if there’s anything worse than losing your lunch in a hot car, it’s not having a lunch to lose and hacking up a mixture of bile, air, salvia and pride. Round two of barf was a lovely banana yellow, chunky and also ended in a Peruvian Airlines bag, this time from our trip to Arequipa.

Creepin´ in the jungle with Rocio. 

Oh? You didn’t want to hear about the vomit? Well then let’s fast forward through the rest of the details from the trip: I vomited again (green, in a bag from the market). Gladys vomited twice.We got pulled over and bribed the police officer with 20 soles. We got stuck in traffic for a half hour for construction. A bus tried to cut us off in said construction and swiped into Wilfredo, which caused lots of yelling in Spanish. Wilfredo tried to pass a truck, miscalculated and took the mirror off the passenger side of the car. 

And finally, after 11 hours in the car with no meal stops, we arrived in Huanuco. Do you understand why I didn’t like Wednesday? Wednesday can go crawl up and die.

The giant yellow mound? Tacacho. 

Naturally after that glamorous adventure, we decided the most logical thing to do was to spend three MORE hours in the car on Thursday, so we headed out to Tingo Maria. The trip was mainly for Gladys and Rocio’s sake, because they´d never been to Huanuco or Tingo before. 

We visited all the touristic spots Katrina and I had visited with Jimmy on our previous trip to Tingo, but the trip was still worthwhile in my opinion. How often do you get to go to the jungle? How often do you get to swim in a sulfur pool? And chiefly, because the fatty inside of me (who you can kind of see from the outside) adores the food in Tingo. They have something called “Tacacho” which is essentially mashed up fried bananas and it’s fantatic. They have all the delicious juice the jungle can offer, including camu camu and cocona. They do pork like no other, and it’s socially acceptable to eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was the perfect way to ensure I didn’t lose a single ounce from barfing my brains out the day before.

We spent a night in Tingo, then headed back to Huanuco late on Friday. Saturday it was time for us to get to business so we visited Melania, Fabrizio’s mom, who now lives in Huanuco. For a recap, Fabrizio is the 7 year old who lived with us last time we were in Huanuco. We chatted with his extended family and Rocio taught a quick bible study. Perhaps my favorite part of this is that the family works in the fireworks industry and during the class they were making elaborate structures that they would later attach explosives to.

Out on a walk with Fabrizio (front) and Eynor. 

Saturday night was Gladys’ turn to teach, so we headed down to Junin (our home away from home in Huanuco) to see some familiar faces, including Grandpa Antonio, Victor (and a few of his six children), Vanessa and Brian-Henry (no matter which name you use for Brian/Henry nobody ever knows who you are talking about, so I call him Brian-Henry.) Things seemed to go well and a few promised their attendance our church service the next day.

We spent Sunday morning enjoying the glory that is Huanuco. Delighting over the family’s new turtle and lamb. Strolling through the countryside with Eynor and Fabrizio. Stuffing ourselves full of Carolina’s cooking. Breathing in air that isn’t so thick with smog that your boogers turn black. Looking at the mountains around us.

Group photo after church on Sunday (art by Jimmy.)

Nightfall brought our church service, which was a lively affair. Eder, who was also visiting from Callao with his new fiancé, MaryCruz, played the guitar and sang, Gladys presided and Rocio preached. A few people from Junin showed up, which gives me some hope for our attendance later this month. We wrapped up the service and bid our farewells to the Callao gang who departed at a chipper 4 a.m. today.

So—we’re here. For the next three weeks we get to enjoy all the pleasures of Huanuco, but also have some business ahead of us. Wilfredo wants us to make regular home visits and focus on growing the church while we’re here. And, as always, we’ll have our English classes and church services. We’ve got our work cut out for us; and, of course, during our downtime we’ll spent ample amounts of time with Oso, Lucky and the ever famous Mojada (these are the names of dogs, people.) With that said, I shall now end this blog and begin examining Oso´s ears to remove all of the garrapatas (ticks) within them  #glamorous. Until next time!

Exploring Lima: Barranco, Pachacamac & Santa Rosa

After Katrina and I’s adventures in southern Peru we’ve set a goal: to get to know Lima better.

Now, I know it sounds ridiculous that we haven’t explored Lima much, but allow me to explain: there are 43 districts that make up Lima. Six of them are in Callao, which is where we live. The other 37 are further away. So this week, we loaded up El Comandante (Wilfredo’s car) and visited three other districts: Barranco, Pachacamac and Santa Rosa.  

 In Barranco with Rocio & Karen

First stop: Barranco. Barranco is said to be the most romantic and bohemian area in Lima and indeed, it does have some little treasures. I especially liked an outdoor piano we found, bathed in bright yellow paint with a sign reading, “I’m yours, play me.” There are a few big churches, flowers and parks, and a beautiful walkway on the cliffs over the Pacific Ocean.

Our main appeal for going to Barranco was to see the Bridge of Sighs. Tradition says if you can cross the bridge without breathing, a wish will come true. The trick ONLY works for the very first time you cross the bridge. We didn’t know this trick, so naturally, we breathed a lot on the bridge, and thus sighed our wishes away. Rats.  

After checking out the bridge (which in all honesty, isn’t quite what it used to be—it’s just a normal short, wooden walking bridge now), we went to get some Peruvian BBQ or “Parrilladas.” Peruvian BBQ doesn’t lay on the BBQ sauce like in the States, but instead focuses on a nice smokey flavor, some “aji” or chili pepper sauce, and a variety of meat. Like seriously, a variety: we ate everything from hot dog to chicken to cow heart, stomach and intestine.

Cow intestine anyone? What about cow heart?  

Next stop: Pachacamac and the pre-Incan and Incan ruins there. I have to say, touring in Arequipa, Puno, Cusco and Iquitos have made Katrina and I wickedly spoiled, because we’ve become accustomed to having an informed guide and a small group. Seriously, when we toured the ruins of Sillustani in Puno, Katrina and I had our own private guide. So, wandering around Pachacamac guide-less, we felt a little naked; however, while the ruins are no Machu Picchu, they’re still interesting. The Incas love their sun temples, and El Templo del Sol in Pachacamac overlooks the Pacific ocean and is breathtaking.

Other than that, honestly, the ruins of Pachacamac are a work in progress. Only recently did the government make moves to restore and protect the ruins, and tourism there is pretty new. You can’t get too close to the ruins, there aren’t very many informative signs or guides available, and nearly everything is undergoing intense restoration. Seeing the workers rebuilding things takes some of the wonder and mystery out of the site. For now, Pachacamac was a worthwhile visit and interesting; in 20 years, I think it will be a must-see and dare I say, fascinating. “Poco a poco” the ruins will get there.

The Incan Sun Temple at Pachacamac. 

Our final adventure for the week was to the beaches in Santa Rosa. We’ve actually been to Santa Rosa before for Dia de la Playa, but it was nice to go there this time for fun rather than business. We played a little volleyball, snacked, gossiped and got to enjoy the Pacific Ocean, probably for the last time before we leave Peru (it’s fall here and winter is coming.) We frolicked about in the waves for more than an hour, and perhaps my favorite part of the experience was all the “pejerry” or kingfish. We showed up just when the fish we’re moving towards the shore and Katrina and I shrieked and jumped about as dozens of little fish slammed into us, leaped out of the water towards us and slapped their tails against our legs. I have seriously never been in water so full of fish. Watching each other shriek and jump about was probably my highlight of the day.

Friday it was back to business as we prepared our Holy Week and Easter celebrations. We kicked things off Friday in Monte Sion with a movie called El Perdon. I had assumed it would be a very Passion of the Christ like, since Friday is the day of the crucifixion, so I was mildly horrified when I saw that we had about 30 attendees, all under the age of 12. Luckily the movie was nothing of the sort; still nothing the children were overly interested in, but with far less gore.

Little Melissa on the beach in Santa Rosa. 

Saturday in Monte Sion we kicked things off by decorating Easter eggs. Let me pause here to explain that American-Easter isn’t a thing in Peru; they don’t decorate eggs or understand why Americans represent a man being brutally murdered by a giant rabbit that inexplicably brings chocolate eggs. Regardless, some of our host family thought it would be cute to incorporate a little of American culture into the church festivities, so we boiled eggs, then decorated them with colored pencils, since there is no food coloring to be found here.

After that, we jumped into a really nice service, with an assortment of short testimonies, crucifixion clips, and a short sermon by Jhonny. While attendance has been lack-luster in Monte Sion as of late, people came out in force for the holiday; Hermana Maruja’s entire family came, a few other regulars, and excitingly had attendance by a few 17 and 18 year old’s lately—a group I would love for us to reach out to.

After church, we began our 20 hour fast to celebrate Easter (an odd number of hours, I know. It was the first time we’ve tried fasting in Peru, so I guess we’re starting with baby steps.) The idea stemmed from Jhonny, who was probably the most vocal complainer about being hungry and repeatedly asked questions like, “You can eat fruit while you’re fasting, right? No? What about candy?”

Elias with his Easter egg. 

My favorite part of fasting was that it gave us all an excuse to have a big family lunch when it was over. The family flocked to Prudencio’s house where we cooked up chicken, beef, potatoes and corn to celebrate the end of fasting. I love the family dynamic here and how everyone genuinely enjoys being around each other. The afternoon rounded out with a few games of volleyball and the typical doting over Paolo, the only grandchild in the family.

We rounded out the week with another church service, this time in Filideflia, where Marlene preached and Betzabe presided. We ended the service by celebrating Betzabe’s big news: she’s pregnant! The baby wasn’t in the plans, but the family sees it as a blessing and seriously has been 100% supportive. Betzabe and her boyfriend Joseph shared some words, including testimonies that both of them had been told at some point that they had problems with fertility; thus, the coming baby is a miracle in itself.

As for this week, it’s flying. We head out to Huanuco TOMORROW. Katrina and I are frantically washing clothes, packing suitcases and settling all of our Lima-affairs before we leave. This time around we’ll be in Huanuco for just one month, so we have to make every moment count.

So—next time you hear from me, I’ll be a Huanuco internet café, likely with three children I don’t know crowded behind my computer, watching my every move. Until then!  

Arequipa, Cañon de Colca, Puno & Lago Titicaca

I know, I know, I’ve been MIA. Don’t worry here comes a SUPER POST to make up for it. (*Disclaimer: Super Post does not ensure that the quality of the post is higher, simply that it is obnoxiously long.)  

Arequipa: You can see why it's called "The White City."

So—our grand adventure started Tuesday, April 1 when we caught a combi to the airport. We flew out to Arequipa knowing only one thing: the address of a $6.50 a night hostel we wanted to stay in.

You see, this time around, we’d made a point not to plan anything before we went. I don’t know much about tours in other countries, but in Peru, everyone says it’s cheaper to plan things as you go. It’s a liberating approach to travel, but it can also be a little unsettling to buy a roundtrip ticket for ten days and have no idea how you’re going to spend them. Regardless, the “fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants” approach was our game plan, and I’m going to go ahead and call it a success.

El Misti, Arequipa's famous volcano. 

So—we flew into Arequipa and landed five minutes after the 8.2 earthquake in Northern Chili. Northern Chili and southern Peru (aka Arequipa) are both hot spots on the Ring of Fire where they Nazca plate collides with the South American plate. We’ve felt two earthquakes in Lima, and really, the whole country of Peru is quite accustomed to a few “temblores” here and there, but when you talk about major earthquakes, Arequipa is usually the region in question. Because of this, Arequipa is “bien preparada”—they all know when to evacuate, all of the buildings have thick walls and archways for support and a majority of the city is made out of a porrus, volcanic rock called white sillar; in fact, Arequipa is often called “The White City” because of all the white sillar used in its construction. So, we landed to a very peaceful airport and our cab driver subtly mentioned to us that there had been an earthquake just before arrived, as if he was talking about a spring shower.

Trying rocoto relleno (Arequipa style.)

The next morning we set about exploring Arequipa. On a whim, we hopped a tour bus that took us to lookout points of the city. The department of Arequipa is famous for its mountains and volcanoes, and we got a good look the three that surround the city: Misti, Pikchu Pikchu and Chachani. After our tour wrapped up, we had to eat the traditional Arequipena dish: rocoto relleno. Rocoto relleno is said to have originated from Arequipa and, naturally, they claim to make it better than everyone else in Peru. It’s a rocoto pepper, stuffed with beef and melted cheese, and served with potatoes and a creamy sauce. The verdict: delicious.

A condor in Colca Canyon. 

From there, we decided to slightly dismantle the spontaneity of our trip by booking a few trips: a three day trek in Colca Canyon, two days in Puno and one night on Amantani, an island in Lake Titicaca. I know, I know—it wasn’t very Peruvian of us to book tours. But our host family told us time and time again to read the story of Ciro Castillo, a guy that got lost and died in Colca Canyon… and that kind of made us value the benefit of having a guide.

So—we headed out to Colca Canyon at a chipper 3:30 a.m. with our guide, Roy, two girls from Holland, Yvonne and Nicole, and a man from Greece, Lazaros. Riding in the darkness through the altitudes and mountain roads, it took me about 20 minutes to get motion sickness, but I’m proud to say I held out for about three hours before barfing into a plastic sack. From that point on, our guide called me “Princess” and made me sit next to him in the front seat of the car. I am the soon-to-be Queen of Vomit!

Anyway—we stopped at a number of interesting places along the way to the canyon, including a lookout point called in Cabanaconde called Cruz del Condor. Condors are a big deal in Peru and were a major symbol of the Incas (along with the puma and snake.) Condors are huge and their wingspan is supposed to be over 3m—so it was wonderful to finally to see them in action.

Colca Conquered: Lazaros, Nicole, Ynonne, Roy, Katrina & I.  

After condor watching, we began our first day of trekking, 8K, all downhill into Colca Canyon. Colca Canyon is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. Unlike the Grand Canyon, people still live there and it’s not uncommon to see children running down the hiking trails, or mules carrying supplies to a village.

Our trek was slow and steady and I’m slightly ashamed to say my wish was granted; before we left for the canyon I told Katrina that I was really hoping we’d have someone slower than me in our group. Turns out Lazaros from Greece is 60 and has a pacemaker. So kudos to Lazaros for still doing the trek, and yay for me for being SECOND to last!

We stayed at a cute little cabin our first night in the canyon, then headed out the next morning for a 6K trek to an area called, “The Oasis.” The Oasis is incredibly fertile ground that is a bit of a mystery to the canyon. Our guide Roy said it’s speculated that a long time ago, people spent nearly two years bringing the fertile earth into the canyon. The area was full of flowers and fruit trees, but perhaps the best part was that there was a POOL down there—so I got to swim in a pool in the bottom of the canyon.  

We spent the night in The Oasis, then day three of trekking was completely uphill—6K up and out of the canyon. We’d been told the trek was hard, so were slightly horrified starting out, but within two and a half hours nearly our entire group had made it out of the canyon. After we had a nice breakfast in Chivay, we headed back to Arequipa (and I’m proud to report that the Princess of Barf did not vomit on the ride home.)

The Oasis: Complete with swimming pool! 

After braving the canyon, we had a night in Arequipa to recover our strength, then hopped a bus to Puno the next morning. The bus ride was six hours, a length we’ve become somewhat accustomed to, and I’m happy to report it didn’t have many twists or turns. Once we got into Puno we found the hotel our tourist agency had booked—which ended up being a four star hotel that completely blew our minds. We’ve become accustomed to having unreliable hot water, no toilet paper in the bathrooms and one lumpy pillow everywhere we go. Here we had a pillows on pillows on pillows, a heater AND a bathtub. It was ridiculously fantastic.

The next day we were off to Lake Titicaca. Lake Titicaca is shared between Peru and Boliva (60% is Peruvian) and is the highest navigable lake in the world.  Five major rivers feed into the lake and it’s right on the edge of the Andes, so some of the islands in the lake end up being over 4,000m above sea level. The lake has been home to a number of groups over the years, so it’s full of three different languages: Aimara (more common on the Bolivian side), Quechua (the language of the Incas) and Spanish.

Elsa lives on Los Uros and gave us a tour of her house.

On Lake Titicaca we visited three islands: Los Uros, Amantaní and Tequile. Los Uros is a group of about 40 artificial islands made of floating reeds. When the Spanish came to Puno, the indigenous fled to the lake to get away… and never left. They originally fled in boats, but after some time were able to make islands out of the roots and reeds found in the lake. While Los Uros is a bit of a tourist trap today, it was still fascinating. You can jump on the reeds of the island and feel their natural spring and visit all the little houses that use solar energy to power their light and televisions (yes, televisions.)

After leaving Uros, we headed to the island Amantaní, where we stayed the night with our host mom Luisa and her family. Two other Americans, Jo and Amanda, who were backing packing solo through Peru, ended up staying the night there with us. We spent a little time hiking to the temple of Pachatata (Father Earth) but the highlight of the night was a celebration we had in a community center where all the tourists sported the traditional garb and danced to a rowdy (and probably slightly intoxicated) band of locals.

Jo, Amanda, myself and Katrina dancing on Amantani. 

The next morning we headed out to our last island of the trip, Taquile. Like Uros, Taquile was full of solar panels, but other than that it was stepped in tradition. Many of the people on the island seemed to live off the land and the men had a tradition of sewing beautiful hats. For lunch, we had the best trout I've ever eaten in my life there, then made our journey back to Puno.

Returning from Lake Titicaca marked the last of Katrina and I’s planned events, so from there we had a little more spontaneity. We opted to tour a place called Sillustani near Puno, which is both an Incan and pre-Incan burial ground. After coming back from that, we made a point to try chuño (freeze dried, old potatoes) which are surprisingly better than they sound.

Katrina trying Chuno Negro in Puno.

After that we bussed back to Arequipa, and spent the day milling around the city, eating a couple more typical foods including, Ocopa Arequipeña (potatoes in a spicy, peanut sauce), Queso Helado (ice cream in the shape of cheese) and some locally grown chocolate.
Arequipa is also known for its churches, so we were sure to tour the main cathedral, Basílica Catedral de Arequipa, which has stood the test of time against earthquakes, and Santa Catalina Monastery. I know a monastery doesn’t sound like the sexiest thing to take a tour of, but it was fascinating. Santa Catalina isn’t your traditional monastery; the nuns all lived in separate houses along little streets with red painted walls and heavy Spanish influence. After one last stroll around the city, we reluctantly trekked back to the airport to catch our flight back to Callao.

Ringing church bells in Arequipa. 

Overall our trip was fantastic—it wasn’t your typical touristy vacation of Peru; obviously the hot spots here are Machu Picchu and the Amazon. But, I feel like we got to know a whole new side of Peru and we learned a lot more about Peruvian culture. For example, our guide in Colca Canyon, Roy, went on and on about how he isn’t Peruvian, he’s “Arequipeño.” The people of Arequipa are incredibly proud and, frankly, consider themselves above Peruvians. Arequipa is an affluent department in Peru and they value tradition, character and loyalty. The have their own flag, anthem, coat of arms—they even have their own beer. They also adamantly state that their Spanish is more pure and beautiful than the Spanish spoken in Lima (and both of those dialects of Spanish are a lot prettier than the mess of Spanish that I speak.)

As for Puno—I loved that part of our trip as well, and again, Puno seems to have its own interesting culture. The belief in Pachatata and Pachamama (Mother and Father Earth) are super popular in Southern Peru and I find it fascinating. Puno has its own array of traditional food and my personal favorite is the tea, Mate de Muña. While on Amantaní, Luisa would seriously walk outside, pull some muña leaves out of her backyard and throw them in a cup of hot water for us; it's the best tea I’ve ever had (take THAT Teavana.)

So—in retrospect, I love southern Peru, and I’m sad to say we don’t have any more trips planned to visit there. As for now, we’re back in Callao and Katrina and I have made a mission to get to know Lima a little better. Now that we’ve learned so much about Southern Peru, it’s high time we learn a little more about our stomping grounds in Lima.

 So—for those adventures, and for another post about how CHURCH was last weekend—stay posted to the blog. I’ve got another entry coming your way this week! 

Riding the Waves

Last Tuesday, I had a realization: come July, we REALLY are leaving Peru. Come July, our lives are going to change.

What brought on this realization? A job offer. Tuesday in a whirlwind of events, my job search was finally over. After nearly 30 applications, several interviews and, admittedly, a little bit of insecurity, I was offered a high school Communication Arts position in the Kansas City metro. And I accepted. I don’t want to elaborate on this too much since, after all, the blog is about my adventures in PERU—but I will say I’m incredibly thankful for this opportunity and I’m excited to start the next chapter of my life.

We came, we saw, we ate seawater... we conquered? 

That being said—for the time being we ARE still in Peru. So, last week we checked something off my bucket list: surfing. Katrina and I trekked to Miraflores, put on the ever attractive wet suits, got a crash course in about 10 minutes of Surfing 101 and hit the waves.

What I immediately discovered is that attacking waves with a surfboard makes your stomach churn. Katrina doesn’t get motion sickness, but by the time we paddled out to the place where you can actually start surfing we both looked at each other with slightly green faces. From there, came the surfing attempts.

Surfing is said to be no joke—a workout—and it lives up to its reputation. Luckily, the Lima coastline has forgiving baby waves, which were perfect for us beginners. We came, we stood up, we wobbled, we fell. And it was completely fantastic.

After about twenty minutes was the first time we got “Prudencioed.” Allow me to explain. Prudencio is a member of our congregation who is the most fearless man I have ever met. Prudencio doesn’t know how to swim, but naturally, this doesn’t stop him from entering the water. So, during Dia de la Playa, Prudencio would swim out, wait for a gigantic wave, then get completely annihilated by it. The water would grab him, throw him to the ground and drag him along the ocean floor until it receded just enough for him to pop his head out again. He’d shake his head, get up, and walk out for more. It was an ocean smack down, and the water won every battle. Prudencio absolutely loved it.  

We'd usually catch the waves at the end of this boardwalk. 

Thus we have the verb of getting “Prudencioed.” The first time it happened our instructor said, “Hang on to your boards!” We had just enough time to turn around and see the imminent beating coming our way. Your body is thrown from your board like a rag doll, then you’re slapped around under the water, uncontrollably thrashing about, your head going left, your butt going right and somehow your feet are pointed upwards—or downward? You’re unsure of which way is up. By the time it’s over, you flail about to reach the surface and emerge disoriented and thankful that your board is tied to your foot. Each time you get Prudencioed, you swallow about a cup and a half of saltwater—and not all of it is taken in through your mouth.

After a few rounds of this, I had about 5 cups of saltwater in my belly, and that was when I had the horrifying realization that I was about to feed the fishes. My stomach lurched and I choked back the delightful taste of stomach acid. I flopped on my board lifelessly, waiting for the vomit to come. And at that point, my instructor and I determined that perhaps it was best to return to the shore—and so we did. So…my hour long lesson was about 40 minutes long—but it was still fantastic, and I still want to try it again. I’m no professional, in fact, I have the grace of a newborn deer—but it was still delightful, and I’m just glad I was able to fully stand up for a few seconds. And if we go surfing again, I’m taking two Dramamine instead of just one.

A visit with Lela and Virgilio for coffee and conversation. 

After surfing, Katrina and I dizzily walked around Miraflores, burping up seawater and waiting for our stomach to settle enough to hop a combi back to Callao. Once we got back (and napped off our dizziness) we popped some popcorn and had a movie night with our host sisters and host cousins. It’s the simple moments like this, just watching a movie, that we know we need to do more and more as our days tick away, to soak in as much time with our Peruvian family as possible.

The rest of the week slipped by as usual. Friday night Katrina taught a class on presiding in Monte Sion and helped people build their first service. Saturday was my turn to preside and I put some of those plans into motion. Somehow, in my eight months here, presiding is still not an art I’ve fully mastered. I don’t know if it’s all in my head, if it’s the language barrier, or it’s simply a series of unfortunate events, but I’ve yet to walk away from a service I’ve built and thought: yes, I nailed that.  

Sunday, my class on Lecto Divina was a bit lackluster as well. People seemed confused as to why I was teaching something “Catholic” and why we had to read the scripture and meditate so many times. The class flopping was a bit of a bummer, considering I’d just been hired as a TEACHER, but you win some and you lose some—and when you lose you learn how to get better.

Gladys sharing a few words. 

After church, we had a surprise party celebrating Gladys graduation from college. I’d been expecting that we’d just hand her some balloons and clap—Gladys has been playing the whole ordeal fairly low key. However, as soon as they pulled out her balloons the waterworks started from all around. People stood up and gave passionate testimonies. Turns out that Gladys mother died right when she was about to start college. The family came together after her death to help Gladys pay for college. Her graduation now is a tribute to her mother. Gladys made a point to say that her graduating isn’t just the fulfillment of her dream, but the dreams of everyone in that room. The night became a passionate celebration, complete with sandwiches, pop, and, of course, cake.  

And it’s on that note that we rounded up our week. Katrina and I are in a frantic rush today—withdrawing money, converting it to Soles, packing our bags, etc. because we are headed out to Arequipa TONIGHT! After a week where I wasn’t impressed with my presiding and teaching, it’s good to get a little bit of time away to relax and regroup. We’ll be in Arequipa for 10 days, so I don’t know when my next full blog post will be—put I’ll try to post some pictures on the road. Until then!