"And to drink? Peru!!" (April 21-22, 2007)

Two points to the first person to give me the movie that the title quote comes from.

I'm kicking myself. Absolutely kicking myself!! I pulled out my journal ONLY to find out that I had stopped writing halfway through the day I went to Machu Picchu! Who does that?! Me, apparently. Sheesh. So, let me give you some Peruvian highlights.

April 21: We arrived in Cusco. It was absolutely gorgeous! We were a little disoriented...it always takes a little time to get to know a city. We walked up, up, up through the hills of the city in search of a hostel (Alison's boyfriend had suggested going up because the view of the city is better...but after dragging my darn roller-bag through all those cobble-stone streets, I decided that "up" was definitely for the birds).

We stayed at a hostel, Hospedaje Inti Quilla, that is a little...well...scary. We were taken in by the beautiful and very modern looking glass door on the outside. However, modernity ended once you walked through it into the courtyard. We paid $10 for the night we were there...so part of me wants to say, "Well?!? Can you really complain?" Then again, when I saw OTHER places we could have stayed at for $10, I think, "You BET I can!" The room was bare, cement or earth walls, two twin beds that made you wonder about the other "bedfellows" you might be sleeping with that night. No, they didn't have fleas or bedbugs, but they DID have really lumpy pillows and rad "vintage" sheets (circa 1985). The door was locked from the inside with a padlock...which doubled as the door handle. We panicked a bit, before realizing the dual nature of the padlock, when we couldn't get the door open (although, why one would ever dream of leaving that idyllic domain is really beyond me). We learned the trick, though: you have to lace the padlock through the latch and yank really hard.

However, the topper definitely had to be the shower. Wooeee! Made me grateful for scary, potentially explosive gas califonts that we had in Chile. A califont is a box (please see picture at left) attached to your wall. You turn on the natural gas supply, light a match and stick it in the little hole where the pilot light ignites. Then, when the water is turned on, you hear this big WHOOSH as more gas pumps through and the whole inside of the box becomes a flaming blue mass...somehow it heats the water (topic for another post someday: how the heck does a califont work?). Anyway, those were a little intimidating in my mission. HOWEVER, not nearly as scary as the Peruvian showers. They're electric. Yes. Electric. You all recall those tags attached to your bathroom appliances, especially hair dryers, that talk about the risk of electrocution and/or death when one is used near the bathtub? Now, I thought that was because water and electricity don't mix. Au contraire, mon ami! Apparently now...in Peru...they DO! The next morning (April 22) Alison and I got up to get ready for church. There were two bathrooms and, apparently, the water in Alison's bathroom ran orange for a couple of minutes before it turned clear. Gross. I guess that bathroom hadn't been used for a while. Mine was fine...just ice cold. Alison opted out of the shower. Determined not to put my head under a freezing cold stream of water either, I changed my clothes and headed out of the baño. As I was stepping out, I heard a scary witch-like cackle ask, "¿Queire ducharse, señorita?" It was still dark out, so yes, the witch...I mean our little Peruvian landlady, made me jump. She showed me how to turn on the electricity to the shower and I decided to take the plunge...risking death by electric shock. I guess the water runs through electrically-heated coils and comes out hot. My shower was barely lukewarm. I learned a lesson, though. The hotter you want your water, the lower the water pressure should be. So, I kept turning the water down more and more until I had a slightly warmer than lukewarm trickle. Drip. Brr. Drip.

Catching up on the night before (April 21), we walked around a bit...and I felt sick. I had one of the worst colds I've had in years. It was really hard for me to enjoy myself...and, I'll admit, I complained quite a bit. Poor Alison had to put up with it. We went to the tourist info place, ATM, and searched for a restaurant. Both our guides mentioned Greens, so we headed to the listed address. As we walked down a back street, passing some young Peruvian men, one of them tried to grab me. I don't know what he was grabbing at (if it was my bum or chest, he SORELY missed and got my wrist), however, on top of feeling grumpy about my cold, that made me *MAD*! I yelled back at him, in Spanish, "Leave me alone!" and threw him the dirtiest look I could muster. Ugh...there went my perception of Peruvian men as quiet and non-threatening.

We arrived at the address for Greens only to find out that it has moved and a new restaurant, Velluto, has taken its place. Sigh. All right, whatever. We were so tired and hungry by then. It was a crepe place...interesting. Not what I expected in Peru. We were the only patrons there...it was pretty low-key and quiet. Our crepes came and were A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!! And quite a work of food art, too!

After dinner, we headed to the Centro Qosqo de Arte Nativo (cultural center) to see some traditional Peruvian dances. Interesting. I'm not as well-versed (or appreciative) of folk dance as I'd like to be...but I'm working on it. The first dance we saw started with a full-grown MAN bounding and leaping around the stage with a loin cloth and antlers on his head. He was supposed to be a deer. I guess I should be grateful for the loin cloth. Most deer don't wear them, or so I hear. As the dance continued, he was "beaten and killed and the people did rejoice and sing in high-pitched voices while the girls whirled around and waved colored pom-pom scarves. " Oh...if only you could have seen it. Later in the evening was a war dance...and they reminded me a little of the sand people from Star Wars. I dunno...you be the judge:
After the dances, we walked up, up, up through the town to our humble little hostel and, decided en route, that it was just TOO far away. Near the Plaza de Armas, we found a little hotel that would charge us $15 a night. And it was MUCH closer to the center. We made our reservation, headed back to our hostel, and got ready for bed. I was so grateful for my sleep sheet...no creepy-crawly feelings and visions of bugs frolicking and munching on my skin for me!