A Small Trip to a Large Mountain (among other places)

Just when you thought I'd fallen off the face of the blogging world... I'm baaaack!

It's been almost two weeks now since I finished my time in Peru, and I'm just starting to emerge from the 2 months' worth of unanswered emails, appointments, and sleep-catching-up that have kept me busy at home. But just because I'm not in the Southern Hemisphere doesn't mean my blog can die... because I have yet to write about

this place.

Well, I've spoiled the surprise now, haven't I? Now you have no incentive to read this blog post. But, on the off-chance that this has piqued your interest and you'd like to see more pretty pictures, I will continue cuenta-ing my cuento until the end of the journey.

When I last wrote, it was my second night in the city of Cusco. Even though the city isn't that far from Ayacucho, we had to take a plane to Lima and spent a day there before heading out to Cusco. It was such a nice feeling to arrive in Lima and know my way around... as grey and gloomy as the city may be at times, walking down those streets felt like being home. We spent the day recovering from our early morning flight, and at night, visited the Parque de las Aguas, which is better described with pictures rather than words.

Pretty, no? It was a lot of fun, and though my camera may be a little worse for wear as a result of this soggy adventure, I'm really glad we went.

The next morning, we flew to Cusco (early again... you're only allowed to fly over the Andes at certain times, because of air pockets) and we started our totally non-academic week of sightseeing! The city of Cusco, or Cuzco, or Qosqo, as it is variably (and arbitrarily) spelled, has several defining characteristics:
1) It is located at 11,200 feet, which is more than twice the height of Denver CO.
2) It used to be the capitol of the Inca empire, and many buildings still have their original Incan walls. The design of these structures is earthquake-resistant, despite the fact that they use no mortar - the stones are simply carved with extreme precision.
3) The Cusqueñan flag is also borrowed from the Incas, who deified the rainbow. Therefore Cusco will forever be in my mind "the city where it's always Gay Pride Day".

4) According to the Official 2012 M. Lowey Census, there are more tourists in Cusco than Peruvians. Of course, that's not actually true, but WOW - I was astounded at the number of foreigners, especially after spending 3 weeks in isolated Ayacucho. 

Being suddenly dropped into this international city, where everyone addressed me in English and the nearest restaurant was Rosy O'Grady's Irish Pub, gave me a bit of a culture shock. As we visited different sites, I found myself struggling to make the transition from student/resident to pure "tourist". As a city, Cusco has a similar quality to one I remember from my high school trip to Barcelona - compared to smaller, less metropolitan areas, it felt a little false and empty, with even its most beautiful sites tarnished by commercialism and the tourism industry. I certainly don't blame the people of Cusco for capitalizing on their city's history, but seeing all of the frivolities set up for tourists made the poverty in the surrounding hills that much more disturbing.

Despite my mixed feelings on the city itself, I did enjoy our excursions to the various ruins and villages surrounding the town.
My personal favorite was Moray, a Incan site where agriculturists experimented with growing plants of different climates. The way the terraces structured, it is significantly warmer at the bottom than the top, and each level uses different soil to better promote the growth of each plant. I tell you, man, those Incas were smart.

After 2 days in Cusco we drove several hours to Aguas Calientes, the small town where Machu Picchu is located. We quickly checked into our beautiful hotel and, after days of anticipation, took an incredibly interesting (read: terrifying) 20 minute bus ride up to

this place.

See, I did it again. Got over-excited and ruined the surprise. Well, anyway - after this harrowing bus experience, we arrived at Machu Picchu, Sacred City of the Incas. And oh my goodness, turning the corner and seeing that city is everything it's cracked up to be and more. It is immense, it is silent, and it is so, so beautiful. I think I'll do an official Cuento later about everything I learned, but here are some key points:

• Machu Picchu (pronounced "mah-chew PEEK-chew" for the record... that's why there are 2 c's) was built around 1400 a.d. for the emperor Pachacuti. There were approximately 400 members of Incan elite living there, and there are over 700 terraces for farming. The current population consists of 3 adorable llamas.
• The word Inca itself translates to "teacher" or "civilizer". These people believed themselves to be a blessed race ordained to share their wisdom with other indigenous groups. Hence, the Inca Empire, or Tawantinsuyo, which stretched from Ecuador all the way through Chile.



Our guide Valentín teaching us the basics of Incan Architecture




Machu Picchu is actually the name of the mountain in front of the city, and means "Old Mountain". The big mountain in my pictures is the ying to Machu Picchu's yang - it's Huayna Picchu, "New Mountain". The city itself was named Haton Qollana Yachawasi, which roughly translated means "Place of Great Knowledge". Pretty, but a bit of a mouthful, right? We'll stick with Machu Picchu.

After spending Wednesday afternoon exploring the site (and befriending the staff of our hotel), we went back on Thursday to get a different view of the Incan city - this time, from the top of Huayna Picchu! The group, along with our wonderful guide Valentín, did a two-hour "hike" up the mountain... really more like two hours on the highest setting of Stairmaster. But when we got to the top, we were rewarded with the sight of hundreds of butterflies (yes, butterflies) at the top of the mountain, as well as another one of the breathtaking views with which the Andes have completely stolen my heart. Even if you're surrounded by other people, these mountains create a sense of peaceful solitude, of being dwarfed by the enormous masses that surround you, yet also feeling the solidness of your own presence in this beautiful, infinite space of mountain and sky. It's really quite a remarkable place.

At the top of Huayna Picchu. Machu Picchu is that little brown part 

The end of our hike meant the end of our time at Machu Picchu, and an hour later our somewhat sweaty group boarded the train and headed back to Cusco. The next morning we flew to Lima, where we had one more night before going home. My friends Kerry and Annie and I went back to the Puente de Suspiros, the Bridge of Sighs, where we got to see the sun set over the Pacific Ocean (a rare sight during the cloudy Limeño winter!) and got our photos taken by a modeling agency who were shooting promo materials and asked us to pose with their models (no joke).

My last Limeño sunset

Then, at 10:47pm on Saturday the 18th, I boarded my plane to Newark, New Jersey, and 12 hours later was back in my house, eating a good old American sandwich with my parents. It's definitely good to be home, and to have time to reflect on all of the amazing things that have happened over the past two months. Now that I've finally gotten back to my blog, there will be two more entries - the Food Blog (which I've been gearing up for since I first arrived in Lima) and the Picture Blog, so that I can share some of my favorite moments from the trip.

Muchas gracias for reading this long entry... that is, if you didn't just look at the picture of Machu Picchu and go back to surfing Pintrest. Which is fine too, of course. Anyway, hope everyone's having a magnificent end-of-summer, hasta pronto!

Cuento # 2: Living in a Time of Terror

I am sitting snuggled up in my hotel room in the very beautiful, sometimes very cold city of Cusco. We arrived here yesterday morning at 7am (you don't even want to know what time we woke up) and after napping/acclimitizing to 3,400 meters, spent the past 2 days touring the city as well as a couple of Incan temples. Tomorrow, we'll be visiting that oh-so-famous World Heritage site, Machu Picchu!

But before I start babbling on about Cusco, I want to write about what I learned in my Political Science class in Ayacucho, as well as some stories that my host family was kind enough to share with me.

Between 1980 and the late 90s, there was an armed internal conflict in Peru now known as the years of terrorismo. During this conflict, the radical Maoist group Sendero Luminoso, or Shining Path, and the Peruvian Armed Forces fought a brutal war that resulted in an estimated 69 thousand deaths and disappearances. Most of the conflict's victims were not members of these two groups, however - 3 out of every 4 victims were campesinos, farmers, whose first language was Quechua. The horrifying mistreatment of civilians, both in the country and eventually even major cities like Lima, by terrorists and military alike, made Peru one of the greatest violators of human rights during this time period. The majority of the violence took place in the nation's poor, remote mountain and jungle regions, where the government's negligence lead to a feeling of abandonment and resentment which Sendero Luminoso used to build up a strong support group for their "People's Revolution". Their headquarters was located in Peru's poorest region of all: Ayacucho.

During the 1970s, the Universidad Nacional de San Cristóbal de Huamanga in Ayacucho was considered one of the intellectual hotspots of the nation. Professors came from all over the world to teach and do research, and students were flooding in from the campo outside of the city so they could escape the cycle of poverty that had trapped their families in the past. One of the professors at UNSCH was a man named Abimael Guzmán, who like many other professors belonged to the Partido Comunista Peruano and had been greatly influenced by his trips to Maoist China. Guzmán began to gain a following at the university, and soon Sendero Luminoso was born, with UNSCH acting as a training ground in Guzmán's revolutionary, violence-based doctrine. Ironically, despite the group's focus on the "masses", Sendero worked under the same hierarchical, racism-based system as the government against which they preached.

In 1980, Sendero launched its first attack on a rural community in Ayacucho, and within two years, the Peruvian government had declared a state of emergency in multiple departments of the country and sent the military to resolve the conflict. However, with almost no information about Guzmán's organization (or, as he was now known by his followers, Presidente Gonzalo) nor any orders for intelligence missions, the Armed Forces began a campaign just as terrible as that of the terrorists they were fighting. As the conflict spread throughout Peru, citizens lived in constant fear of both sides - at any moment, they could be accused of being a senderista or for sympathizing with the armed forces and punished by the opposing force. The "punishments" doled out for these actions were often incredibly gratuitous and vicious, leaving thousands of civilians dead or disappeared, with countless more scarred by the atrocities that they were forced to witness.

For my final essay, I wrote about "La Guerra Cotidiana", or daily life during this wartime. I was lucky enough that my entire host family allowed me to interview them about their experiences during the 80s and 90s - everyone was affected by the terrorism, no matter their social situation or where they were living. My "papá", Jorge Pazo Palomino, talked to me for almost 2 hours about his experience as a 22 year-old working in a bank in la selva, or jungle, on the Eastern side of the country where Sendero's activities were mixed with drug production. He very kindly allowed me to share some of his stories (translated/adapted/shortened for this blog):

"In 1980 I moved to the jungle town of San Francisco, and had two years in Paradise, taking boats up the Apurimac river, playing soccer with my friends from the bank, and going to parties with our neighbors at the police station. Then one day, a friend and I were walking up the hill to work when we saw a commotion on the bridge which crossed the river to the department of Cusco. I recognized a policeman from the station, a 44 year-old, who was talking to a group of youths. All of a sudden, I heard a shot, and the policeman staggered a few steps before falling to the ground. We ran to the station to tell the police, but by then it was too late - the senderistas who had shot him ran across the bridge to Cusco, where the police had no jurisdiction. That was the first death of many in San Francisco, and it was that day, after my two years in Paradise, that they turned off the light, and my life became darkness.

Travelling was the most dangerous part of that time... you never knew when you would be stopped, either by the Armed Forces or by Senderistas. I was detained 4 times, kicked by guards and held in prison overnight. One day, we were travelling in our company car, and were stopped by young boys, senderistas of no more than 10 or 12 years of age. They had guns, and in their hands were bombs, made of dynamite stuck into old Coca Cola cans. They asked us for our papers, and when they saw the car registration card, which read "Ministry of Vehicles", they began shouting at us, saying we were spies for the government. I tried to explain that every car had this registration card, but they were already filling our trunk with bombs. Just at that moment, an ambulance drove by, with the words "Ministry of Health" painted on the side. With this as proof, we were able to convince the boys that our car didn't belong to the government. They ran off into the woods, and we had to quickly take the bombs out of our car and drive away. About 10 minutes later, I heard an explosion, and I knew that they had blown up another car on the road. Every trip was another story like this."

Jorge had so much to share - his detention in prison, just for having the same name as someone on the army's "black list", the time every citizen of his town was forced to parade before a tribunal while a captured senderista identified fellow terrorists, and the deaths of several of his friends from the bank, who were shot by soldiers not over terrorism, but over jealousy about a woman. It was incredible to hear him talk about the things he witnessed and experienced, especially knowing him to be such a tranquil, sweet, and stable person now.
After 10 years of this horror, the citizens of Peru elected a new president - Alberto Fujimori, of Japanese heritage. One of the first candidates to run without the backing of a political party, Fujimori promised to erradicate "Presidente Gonzalo's" followers from the country. During his subsequent two terms as president, he did just that, as well as raising the Peruvian economy from its desparate situation, bettering education programs, and gaining the adoration of many previously estranged departments. However, Fujimori's methods for obtaining these goals were far from the "democracy" he had promised. The 10 years of fujimorismo were characterized by authoritarianism, severe anti-terrorist laws which allowed for virtually anyone to be detained and tortured, and a violent under-the-radar contrasubversive program headed by Fujimori's right hand, the infamous Vladimiro Montesinos.

Despite the illegal methods by which Fujimori operated - for which he is now in prison after years of being on INTERPOL's most wanted list - his anti-terrorism campaign was ultimately successful, seeing the capture of Guzmán in October 1992 (just to show you how warped Fujimori's mind was, check out this picture of Guzmán, who was forced to wear a costume of a Hollywood movie criminal for dramatic effect) and from there, the ultimate fall of Sendero Luminoso. Once Fujimori's human rights violations were revealed and he fled the country in 2000, a transitional government was put into place, including a Truth and Reconciliation Commission, who interviewed thousands of victims of the conflict so that their story might be told, and justice served to those responsible.

Although 12 years have passed since Peru's time of terror ended, the country is still trying to pick up the pieces, and the inequalities which fueled Sendero's movement still exist today. Although it is the only South American nation which has had consistant economic growth over the past decade, 80% of this wealth belongs to only 10% of the nation, while the percentage of extreme poverty in rural areas is still enormous. The perception of the mountains as an "obstacle to progress" still remains prevalent, a mentality fueled in part by racism against the indiginous and poor mestizo people who live there. This inequality spurs hundreds of protests annually, and in fact, Sendero has recently begun to regain strength in the form of a political party, MOVADEF, which is once again championing the causes of the dissatisfied poor.

One of the things that I find most disturbing about the internal armed conflict in Peru (I prefer this term to "terrorism", because the Armed Forces were responsible for nearly as many deaths as Sendero itself) is the fact that, before this trip, I knew literally nothing about it. We in the United States are taught so little about Latin American history, and yet here we have an example of a conflict which lasted 20 years, and was responsible for the death/disappearence of about 70 thousand people. If anything's worth teaching, I think that is. Unfortunately, even in Peru itself the topic is seldom discussed. When I interviewed my "host sister", a 16 year-old named Romina, she explained to me that she has been taught almost nothing about the 80s and 90s in her years of schooling. "It's uncomfortable and sad", she told me, "We don't ask questions because the adults don't want to talk about it". I think this is part of the reason that MOVADEF is gaining so many student followers - stories about the radical terrorism of Sendero Luminoso are rarely shared here, so students have no background knowledge when learning about the political party that has sprung from it. Memory is short in this country - and yet, there are still some who refuse to let their stories go unheard. When we visited the museum of ANFASEP, an organization dedicated to the support of families of the conflict's victims, there was a huge sign on the wall which said simply: Para que no se repita, or "So that it doesn't repeat itself". I think that this is the most important goal for Peru over the next few years - for people, like the women of ANFASEP and my host father and anyone else who is able, to tell their stories so that the country, and the world, doesn't let history repeat itself again.

If this history interests you, I suggest you check out the documentary The Fall of Fujimori (which I believe is on Netflix Instant). It's certainly not pretty, but does an excellent job showing the complexity of the conflict, its two sides, and the man who helped bring it to an end.

Ok, it's late and I have some Machu Picchu-ing to do tomorrow. Buenas noches a todos! I'll try to get some pictures up with my next post - only a week until I'm home and have a computer available again!

Five Things You Didn't Know About Ayacucho, Peru

Ok, so maybe there are more than 5 things you don't know about Ayacucho. Or maybe you know 50,000 things about Ayacucho and these facts will be old news to you -but they're new to me, and I'm excited to share them!

A quick daily-life update before we get started - I am healthy again after my 2 day stomach infection as well as a nasty cold that managed to knock me and a few of my friends flat for a couple days. Ironically, this beautiful town seems set on systematically destroying the health of everyone on this program. There has not been a single day when someone hasn't gone to the clinic or been stuck home in bed. Still, we haven't let it get us down, and have continued with our work and excursions as best we can! As I've mentioned, I am positively enamored of these mountains, and our trips to the towns of Quinua and Huanta have just confirmed that even more! I can't believe this is my last day here; there's so much I still want to explore and learn, and so little time. I just have to come back on my own next summer!

Quinua...

I haven't had a chance to write here for a while, because I'm still recovering from all the final papers and tests I had this week. On Tuesday I wrote an 8 page research paper as the culmination of my 3 week course (hmm...), but luckily my topic was interesting enough to keep me awake and invested into the wee hours of the morning. I'll talk more about the essay topic in my next entry... it's perfect material for Meg Shares an Actual Cuento #2! Or at least, it will be. Once I get some sleep to make up for what I missed on Tuesday night.

So, anyway. Here are 5 things you may or may not have already known about Ayacucho, Peru!

1) There are Two Ayacuchos
The country of Peru is divided into "departments" that are basically like our states. Ayacucho is one of these departments (said to look like a dog), and contains 11 provinces, each of which has a capital city. Ayacucho the department also has a capital city, which is named... Ayacucho. Only everyone calls it Huamanga. Confusing. The reason for this double-name is as follows: On the 9th of December, 1824, Peruvian troops defeated their Spanish colonizers on the Pampa (aka Big Flat Place) of Ayacucho. This was a Very Big Deal, because at that time, the Viceroyalty of Peru actually consisted of pretty much the entire South American continent. So when the little baby Peruvian army defeated the big scary Spaniards, everyone was so excited that they decided to rename the colonial town of Huamanga (based on two Quechua words meaning "dried llama meat vendor") after the famous battle. However, the people living there decided that they like dried llama meat, so to this very day, the town's citizens call themselves huamanguinas instead of ayacuchanos.

2) God lives in the hills
Huamanga is known as the City of Churches... there are 33 within this small city, practically one on every street corner. But the religious beliefs in Ayacucho aren't as orthodox as one might expect. In Peru, particularly within the Andes region, a phenomenon known as Syncretismo permeates the population's belief system, blending Christian traditions with ancient Andean rituals that have been part of the culture for centuries. Sometimes, syncretismo takes a rather amusing form, such as this painting which is similar to one in a church near my house (they're eating cuy, the traditional Peruvian guinea pig dish). Last Saturday, we hiked up Watuscalla, the most sacred hill (read: mountain) in this part of the Andes. For hundreds of years, farmers have climbed to the cross at the top of the hill to pray and bring offerings to the God of the hill, so that he will bless them with a good harvest. Our guide helped us perform a small ritual, which involved bringing the God some of his favorite things: coca leaves, alcohol, cigarettes, and chocolate. I'm not sure how the Hill God's Christian roommate feels about these offerings, but we were certainly amused! As part of the ritual, we all had to chew the dried coca leaves while thinking a prayer or good wish for our family... they taste like tea.

3) The university is older than your country
Ayacucho is home to La Universidad Nacional de San Cristobal de Huamanga, which is the second oldest university in South America. Founded by the Spaniards in a year that I don't currently remember, but which I will find on the interwebz soon, and has been serving students ever since, with one significant break in the 1980s to 1990s. During those decades, UNSCH ( as it is lovingly/difficult-to-pronounce-ingly called) was shut down by the Peruvian government, as it had been turned into a recruitment and indoctrination center for the maoist terrorist group, Sendero Luminoso, or Shining Path. The movement's leader, Abimael Guzmán, was a professor at the university, and in the late 70's began spreading his revolutionary doctrine to the other teachers and students, eventually leading them to begin a 20 year armed conflict that many Peruvians are still recovering from today. My next post will focus on this time period, and the interviews I've done with my homestay family.

4) The mountains are high
As you may recall from my last post, Huamanga is located at around 9,058 feet above sea level. This causes all sorts of strange things to happen. For example:
- When you first arrive, it takes a few days to acclimitize. There's less oxygen in the air here, so your lungs and heart have to work harder. For me, the only effects have been feeling more tired than usual after walking around all day. Solution: drink Mate de Coca, tea made with coca leavee. It's a lifesaver.
- Water boils at a lower temperature here. I think that's weird.
- Digestion is also slower in the mountains. For dinner, all I have is a piece of chapla, the incredibly delicious and addicting pita-like bread that's common here, with jam or a little avocado, and I'm full for the night.
- CONSTANT. NOSEBLEEDS.

5) The street children have somewhere safe to go
I wanted to make sure I got something in about Casa Hogar Los Cachorros, the shelter where I've been working these 3 weeks. This Dutch foundation is unique in that it offers classes and activities for children living on the street, as well as in the programming it provides for the children who choose to come sleep or live in their house. I love that concept, because making positive connections with the children that early helps them realize that there are options other than the life full of danger and drugs that many of them live. Working at the house has definitely been one of the hardest things I've ever done- some of the boys are very volitile and moody and everything we do has to be very flexible, because if they're in a bad mood it simply won't happen. As such, I've watched a lot of tv with them - and have now seen more TNT movies in Spanish than in English - sat quietly as they (mostly) did their homework, and learned to play marbles, taps and "fútbol de saltarín" (trampoline soccer), in addition teaching them the theatre games I prepared. However, it's become clear to me that the important thing here isn't what you do at Los Cachorros - it's just about being there, showing the boys that someone is invested in and happy to be with them. Most of them come from families who either can't afford to take care of them or don't provide them with a safe home, so Los Cachorros is an extremely important source of love and support, as well as a roof and warm bed. Nonetheless, it's difficult for them to adjust to normal life after all the liberty they have in the street, and during my time here I've had to see 3 children escape, including one who'd been at the house for over 2 and a half years. There's unfortunately not much the professors and I can do about this, other than ask around to figure out where they are and hope that they'll come back. Yesterday Noé, an 11 year old who arrived the same day I did and who I got very close with, returned after running away last week. I'm giving him a Northwestern baseball cap today as a goodbye present, and making him and the other boys pinky-promise me (yes, that's a thing in Peru too) that they'll stay safe so I can find them when I come back to Ayacucho. My friend Kerry and I bought them a new soccer ball as well, so that should keep them busy for a while :) 

 There you are - you are officially 5 times more knowledgable about Ayacucho! Check back within the next day or two - before I go to Cusco on Sunday (woohoo!!) I'm going to get up my Cuento #2, which will update you on what I've learned in my political science class here. Now I'm off to spend my last day in this wonderful city - chao!