Stressless Christmases, all over the world

Tarma, upon arrival, smells like a stressless Christmas. The streets are full of people, calmly, though excitedly, (like the  beginning of December, before the crazy rush of the holidays), meandering along, window shopping, watching street performers, pausing in the tranquil plaza outside the main church.
On certain days, the streets of Tarma are shut down to traffic and big, colorful marketplaces are constructed. All sorts of fruits, roots, vegetables and meats are presented, in every shape, form and color. It´s bustling, but not stressful. Colorful, but not overwhelming. It`s beautiful.

Un Dia en mi Vida Tarmeña

Wake up when I feel like it, take a mate de coca downstairs. Find quinoa con manzana, stroll around the sweet plaza that smells piney and a little like Christmas. Pay 1 sol to look at library books on the legends and myths of the region. Take a walk up a steep street I don`t know where it goes, take shelter from the rain in a nearby shop. Smile at the owner, nod, continue on my way as the rain lightens. Go eat a menù at George`s spot. George, aka Jorge, aka Koko and his wife Lupita, own a really sweet hole in the wall restaurant that serves consistently delicious, clean, tasty food, and there is always good company and conversation to be had.
Return to my ¨home¨away from home to practice violin in the big, empty, old haciendo that is now a hospedaje. Meander on over to the market place where I observe big, fried pancakes being served up with what looks like hot chocolate. Ask for one of those. Drink my hot chocolate, which has a very distinct, delicious flavor, and eat my fried pancake. Walk back to hostel feeling quite relaxed, happy...wait a second...tipsy?¿? Yes...the hot chocolate was spiked with something special. Take a nap. Wake up and do some lesson planning, write in my journal. Go back to the main street to eat Caldo de Gallina, a soup of noodles, rooster, hard boiled egg, and oil. Lots of oil. Too much oil. Return to the hostal with a stomach ache. Spend the next 3 hours throwing up and walking back and forth from the bathroom which is located downstairs from my room. Finally get to sleep, and wake up in the morning happy as a clam. Well, a clam that got tossed around on the beach a bit the night before, but still in tact and its pearl a little motion sick, but still nessled safe inside.

Another example of my day:

Wake up and head over to the library, then ask directions on the street for how to get to a pueblo nearby called Muruhuay. The woman I ask directions from turns out to be a teacher at the nearby high school and has a great interest in storytelling and oral narrative. We exchange numbers and make plans to meet up again soon to talk about possible projects.
Catch a colectivo to a nearby haciendo, where I stroll the gardens and wander alongside a little stream. The fields are empty, except for me and my new dog friend. We lay in the sun next to the stream, daydreaming then doing some lesson planning. Use a mud hut toilet, which then I realize drops directly into the nice little, dirty stream I was just sunbathing next too. Well, can`t win them all! I collect acorn tops, then read Mary Oliver out loud to the dog. Thank the gods for Mary Oliver!
Pop a few fruits, aguaymantos, that come in a leafy lacey flower pocket. Smile at the field of artichokes, meander back to the road. On my way up to the road I see the first person in a few hours, the owner of the hacienda, who offers hostal rooms in the haciendo on the property for much too much money. He asks me if I want to visit the hacienda and if I do that I need to pay 3 soles. I say, ahh, maybe I`ll be back later. All I wanted was to lay in your fields and use your mud hut toilet.
I begin to walk the road towards the other pueblo of Muruhuay where there are fiestas all the month of May. I flag down a combi and make it to the pueblo in time to watch a big gathering of people dancing, performing and playing music. I eat chicken and rice at a nearby spot where I chat up the señora and she tells me the story of the Señor de Muruhuay, apparently they celebrate every year how a crucified man appeared on the rock on the hillside.
 I make my way back to the music where there are a few kids hanging around, little ones, and I can tell their a little surprised to see me. We play a little, talk, then I see one girl thinking, then she says, I want to call my dad, but I dont have 20 cents...then she looks at me curiously, wondering if I`ll take the bait. Where is your dad? I ask. Uhhh....She says. Then, he`s in Lima. I want to call him, but I dont have 20 cents for the phone. What`s he doing in Lima? Uhhh...Is he working? I say. Si! yes, he is working. The kids giggle a little. Mmmm. We watch the dancing more. Where are your parents? She asks me. I tell her my mom is at home in California. Where is your dad? My dad died. Silence. Big eyes. Then a little bit after, is he in a cemetary? Can you visit him? We watch the musicians begin to play and march. I get ready to continue walking. She tries one more time. I want to call my dad but don`t have the money...I smile, she smiles sheepishly back at me, understanding that I understood it`s a game for them. I appreciated the attempt. Might have worked on someone else. I give them all a goodbye wave, take care, see you later. They all grin and say goodbye.
I stroll up to the church where the supposed rock is. Enter, give my respects, then walk up around the back of the church and climb the mountain, precariously I might add, to the big cross in the middle of it, up above the whole town. It`s a beautiful view, a gorgeous valley, reminds me of home. I sit in silence for a while, contemplating what it would be like to have been walking here years ago and come upon a crucified man that appeared out of the rock.
Then I start walking back down the mountain and heading back towards the road for Tarma. On the outskirts of Muruhuay I see there is a fiesta happening, and I poke my head in to the courtyard, just to see. A circle of friends becon me in and wave me to come dance with them. I enter, and we begin to dance. Then I am handed a big cross, and a bottle of beer, and we are walking out to the street, and we are all piling into cars and we are heading to their pueblo, Muyloh, on the other side of Tarma. We arrive as it is getting dark, and enter into a home with a big courtyard, where the band and the orchestra set up their instruments, and the family begins to pass around food to all the guests. The entire pueblo is invited. I am introduced to the owner of the home, the grandfather, a wonderful old señor with blue eyes that tell entire worlds of histories. They invite me in like family. We eat, we drink, we dance in the rain until late. Then the band marches with us up to the main plaza in front of the church, and we dance more, and drink more. We drink beer, and we drink a hot liquor of many herbs that warms you up really nicely. They are constructing a big tower structure, that looks to me in its completion like a Peruvian version of Burning Man. Then the light show begins. They strike it up, this big tower structure and it comes to live, shooting, streaming, beaming with fireworks! One after another, and its very precarious seeming, and very exciting. Wow! Ah! Eek! We have to run for shelter at one moment, stray fireworks shooting off in crazy directions. It finishes, and we begin to dance again. then we head back to the house, and there is the last person leaving in their car for Tarma so I catch the ride quick and head back to my hostal. We bid farewell, and I head to bed, happy, full, satisfied.

Escape!

As I reflect on the last month, it is a bit funny to think how much of my time has been spent trying to stay out of Lima or when I am in Lima, thinking about how to escape.

So here are a few of my stories about escaping Lima, and a few of my time back in Lima in between escapes J

My first escape in April was to go north, up to Chiclayo, which upon arrival in the early morning I realized was also a big city and immediately caught a minibus to the nearby (30 minutes away) beach town of Pimentel. The very tranquil, quiet, sometimes ghostly pueblo of Pimentel. Most people during the day are in Chiclayo for school or work, and only return to Pimentel wherein they go to sleep. That being said there really is not much to do in Pimentel except go to the beach, which might I tell you is BEAUTIFUL. At least I thought it was really quite perfect, minus the fact that being at the beach alone for many days on end becomes a bit lonely. It is really quite pretty. There are fishermen in their very cool boats, and as I came to find quite a bit of wildlife (both dead and alive). Apparently, unknown to me before but I quickly realized, Pimentel is well known for its winds—very windy days, making it somewhat uncomfortable to sit on the beach for too long without cover! They also are known for one of the longest piers in southamerica (maybe the world?) it stretches really far out into the ocean. One night I walked out to the very end, and watched the sunset over the ocean water. I felt like I was inside the sky. All I could see was the neverending blue ocean water and the clouds all around, full of color. It was magical. And then it was cold. J

Upon arriving in Pimentel, I stepped inside a little bodega to ask about where there was a hostal, and the señora who ran the restaurant/store offered me an extra bed in her room upstairs. So for the week I lived in her room with her, got to know her family and another family that was renting from her. There were nine of us in the house. Señora Rosita, very sweet lady.

Once I had all my things settled, I had all the time in the world to wander the walk along the beach side, explore the few streets of Pimentel, the very, very relaxed and quiet main plaza, and use the internet—which surprisingly was very fast and very available. Rare for a small town. In retrospect it seems a bad combination—easy, somewhat reliable internet access, very quiet and unexciting town and being all alone for days on end. I was pretty lonely for a while there. But I also spent a lot of time walking along the beach watching the water, which is very healing and soothing for me. Gave me much time to think about what I have, and what I was missing and what I want or need in my life. I came upon a dead dolphin, and a sick pelican, who then died because the next day I walked by he was being eaten by vultures. It was a bit depressing.

Anyhow! Hah, my Pimentel experience turned out to be a really important time for me, and I`m glad I experienced it. It made me realize that I do need to stay out of the big cities here, but that I also need to be in places where I have social interaction. On the last day of my visit in Pimentel, I met two guys from Chiclayo, Ricardo and Carlos, taking photos of Pimentel culture and the pier (muelle). We spent the evening talking about art, photography, maravales (juggling and tricks), travel, Peruvian culture, languages, etc. It was really great to converse after so much time conversing with myself and the ocean. The next day we all went to Lambayeque, where there is a really interesting museum about the Lord of Sipan, one of the big archeological sites in the area. The museum was really impressively layed out and had a lot of intriguing exhibits of the life of the people of Sipan back in the day, and of the burial site that has been excavated. The actual site is in a different spot, but all the real artifacts have been brought to the museum in Lambayeque.

After a few days in Chiclayo, Carlos and I adventured to Tarapoto, the jungle east of Chiclayo about 15 hours or so. Such a difference! The climate, the culture, the air! Hot, humid and full of street vendors of foods at night and surrounded by waterfalls and interesting day trips. We made it to one waterfall, which was less than impressive, too touristy for my liking, but the hitchhike ride back was cool, and the ride there was even cooler—riding in the back of a truck with about 15 other people, standing up, watching the beautiful scenery pass by as we entered further and further into the jungle. Tarapoto is really just the entrance to the jungle. I have yet to really experience the true jungle of Peru. One of the highlights for me in Tarapoto was the food. Street vendors during the day selling fresh coconut straight from the coconut with a straw, then chopped open to eat the fresh fruit of the coco. Platanos cooked on the barbeque filled with Peruvian cheese or crushed peanuts or chicharron (pig). Juanes, a bit like tamales, corn pockets filled with chicken or fish wrapped in banana leaves. Yum!

We also checked out a chocolate factory, and tasted jungle chocolate! Tasty!
I discovered as well in Tarapoto that the libraries of each town I go to are amazing resources to look up the legends and myths of the area. I hadn`t used them as a resource before, only going in to read my own books or write in my journal or use their free internet. I found many awesome collections of stories of the jungle region in the library of Tarapoto, and was able to photocopy them right below the library in the market for really cheap! 

Another favorite spot was Lamas, a small pueblo about 30 minutes car ride from Tarapoto. In Lamas there is a community that still practices its indigenous traditions from long ago. There is a small museum dedicated to this culture and its history. I found two awesome books filled with oral literature, narrations and stories on the legends and myths of the region. There was also a really cool castle, old, but with a pool and all sorts of great art on the walls. They also had tasty street food—we tried fried seeds of some sort, I don’t remember the name.

 After talking to the tourist office, a tiny little office where an old man who was excited to try to speak English to me and told me I had beautiful eyes, and laughed a lot, we got a ride out to a waterfalls that was really nice, we were able to swim in a small pool below it and on the walk back through the jungle, we caught a ride in the back of a banana truck, where the others asked me if I had bananas in my land, speaking in their native language and calling me Gringa. It was funny, (en tu tierra? Hay esto? Y esto?) As if I came from another planet.

Back in Tarapoto Semana Santa arrived and all the shops closed and people disappeared. The rain also came. We had planned to go to a Laguna about two hours by bus away, but with the weather we ended up traversing the empty streets of Tarapoto in search of food instead. The Laguna waters came to us anyhow, the streets were like rivers! There was so much rain for a few hours there!

The next stop was Chachapoyas, the cloud forest in the region of Amazonas. The bus ride here was interesting (as all the busrides here seem to turn out to be!) as a car crash had happened recently, so we all got off the bus and waited in the jungle for about an hour, then got back on and started going again, only to realize 15 minutes later we were missing passengers. So we stopped for another 30 minutes until they were collected again and back on the bus safe and sound. We arrived in Pedro Ruiz too late for the last minibuses to Chachas, so we, along with a mom and her daughter found a cheap hostal for the night. The next morning I went to the market and got so many bananas for super cheap! the cheapest I`ve found so far in Peru! 10 bananas for 1 sol. 2.8 soles is $1. Imagine that. We then caught a minibus to Chachapoyas. The region is absolutely spectacularly gorgeous, and has an incredible and intense special energy. I felt like I was settling back into the Earth. Very healing energy. We arrived in the town of Chachas on Easter Sunday. Very relaxed, calm spot, nestled in the mountains, with a weirdly cold yet tropically climate. The region of Amazonas also has a huge history of legends and stories--with the history of the Chachapoyas people at the center of it, a preincan culture whose ruins and culture survived much of the conquering of the Incas.

I don`t remember if I wrote about the discussion I had with my Spanish teacher back in Lima, about how it`s easy to think how terrible it is that the Spanish came and took all the Incans traditions and tried to block them out. It`s important to remember also that the Incans did the same thing to many preincan cultures. For this reason, many of the native peoples were happy to see the Spanish come, in a strange respect the Spanish were saviors to many. Killers, and saviors. A complicated history, as they all are. But I thought that was a really interesting point that my teacher reminded me of. The conversation came up because I was talking about how it depressed me to see the indigenous men and women in Quechua praying to the saints of the Spaniards.

In other thoughts...

I met up with Julio, a friend of my storyteller friend and teacher Wayqui, who works in Chachas and promotes narration, art and theater events in the area. He is from Spain, and I met his friend who is also from Spain who does workshops for adolescents on expressive arts for healing and exploration of creativity. Julio works for the library, and I found two more books on the stories of the Amazonas area. SO COOL! The woman I bought them from actually had written her own book about her experience overcoming colon cancer, and gifted me a copy, along with a bottle of natural pills that help with cancer apparently. Other things too. She told me how the fruit Guanabana has incredible healing properties, including preventing and curing Cancer. Pretty awesome.

Julio and I were going to try to have an event of storytelling in which I was going to be able to tell in English, but in the end it didnt work out. Too last minute.
I got to go to the Keulap Ruins though, a beautiful place with ruins that rival Macchu Picchu but are barely visited in comparison. That is part of their magic. Less people, more nature to yourself, and beautiful flora and fauna because it is a unique climate of cloud forest!
It rained as we were arriving to the ruins, and the tour guide had ponchos to buy, and of course the moment after people bought ponchos (for 5 soles! too much!), the rain stopped. Hah. Of course.
On our leaving of the ruins there was a rainbow! Arco Iris! Magic :)

On the ride back the tour guide (after I prompted him a bit) told us a bunch of stories from the region. A few favorites:

(This one gets lost in English because the kicker is a play on words in Spanish)
There is a pastry by the name of something I cant remember at the moment, but it is dough with meat stuck inside it, wrapped up tight. So the story goes--there were two young lovers. A guy and a gal, and they would go out all the time, hold hands, pass the day together. They both wanted more and were getting a little restless. Finally the guy says, I want to hug you, I want to hug you like the dough of the pastry I dont remember the name of. A very strong hug! The girl says okay and they begin hugging, and he squeezes tighter and tighter, like the dough of the pastry. But still, they are both  unsatisfied. He squeezes more, and finally asks, but my dear I am hugging you like the pastry, what`s the problem? And she answers, Well, you^re missing the meat inside!

The other story is about when the Spanish came to Peru and there was a sacerdote, a religious man, a priest that would go around to all the houses in the pueblo collecting ¨Gods money¨. He would ask everyone for their bulls, the most valuable possessions. He didnt stand for the female cows, or chickens or nothing less than a bull. Every time he would come to the door and say hello, how are your affairs? well, to improve them I need you to offer your bull to God and give him to me. And they would give him the bulls, with regret,  but they did it because he was a holy man and they needed all the help they could get. Each time he would say their fortunes would double, triple, that they would be very happy and wealthy soon.
There was one family, one woman who was very very poor. She had only a few chickens, a goat and a female cow. The priest came to the door and did his spiel. She said, but señor I only have very little. Can I give you a chicken? Señora, your cow will do. You want to have your fortunes grow 100 fold don`t you? For this to happen we need to offer God your cow. With regret the woman let go of her cow.
And so the priest made his way with his now 99 bulls, and the one cow. He was not very far from the village of the poor woman, when the cow began to get restless, she missed her home, she did not want to go with the Priest. So the cow turned around and began to run back to the house of her señora. Of course, being the only female cow, all the bulls also turned around and ran after her! The priest chased them far behind. When he arrived at the house of the woman, he knocked on the door and said, Señora, you^re you cow stole all my bulls, you have all 99 of my bulls and my cow. Please return them to me.
But no, Señor! You yourself told me that if I offered my cow, soon my fortune would grow 100 fold! And here it is, I had one cow before, now I have 99 bulls! I have 100 lifestock! Gracias a Dios! Thank God!

Hahahah.

To be continued soon....