Giddyap

After recovering from eating the food-that-shall-not-be-named, I went horseback riding in a particularly beautiful part of Cusco. We went near some Incan ruins called Saqsaywaman, which makes me laugh like Beavis and Butt-head because it sounds like "sexy woman". I hadn't been on a horse since I was six on a nice flat beach, so I really wasn't expecting to dislike the experience as much as I did. I think the main issue was the terrain. The horses were supposed to climb this extremely steep and rocky hill, and they were stumbling the whole time. Now, I'm just not comfortable having my tender little spinal cord jerking around eight feet off the ground. When we got onto a flatter area, I thought I could relax a little, but my horse was such a bastard. I swear he was trying to Christopher Reeve my ass; he could sense that I was a frightened gringa through the saddle. He kept racing ahead of the group, getting in little fights with the other horses, and he spoke Spanish, so my "whoa" pleas went unheeded. I was so relieved to finally get off that skittish death-machine. Honestly, I would rather have ridden rollerblades up that craggy mountainside...at least then I could've just skinned the shit out of the palms of my hands. ANYWAYS, the ruins were really cool, as usual, and there was a spectacular view of the entire city, so the trip was worthwhile in spite of it all.

Today I am volunteering with the kids for the first time in a week, so I am excited to see how they are doing and get my Spanish rolling again. It is amazing how quickly I revert back to using English/basic Spanish when I don't have to actively speak. Not being able to communicate in a competent way is unbelievably frustrating sometimes, though occasionally I get on a roll and can actually say something meaningful. Immersion is truly the only way to learn how to use a language practically, though the classroom is handy for memorization and difficult grammar concepts.

no. more. causa.

Well, it finally happened. I ate some food, felt a little strange, and then proceeded to violently yak again and again. The whole situation could have been much worse, but it has definitely been the low point of my trip. There are two culprits in this heinous crime against my digestive system, but I think I have it figured out. Two days ago I went to nice little restaurant to get lunch, and one of the workers was from Oregon. When my cheeseburger arrived, I cut it in half and noticed that the center was undercooked. Because I am a dumbass, and because I really wanted the Oregonian to like me and not think I was annoying by sending it back, I ate most of the burger. You might be thinking that the burger is obviously what made me sick, but this is really like an episode of Law and Order SVU. The most obvious suspect is never the killer, it´s the feeble old aunt! Anyways, another volunteer and I went to a cooking class that evening. We made causa, which is basically a mashed potato and shredded chicken sandwich. My attempt tasted awful because I put way too much salt in it, so I barely ate any of it. The next morning I felt terrible, but I ate breakfast anyways...there is nothing like intense nausea to rocket you immediately into the present moment. Nothing from the past matters anymore, the future seems like an unattainable dream, and the only thing that absolutely must happen is a good vomit sesh. Afterwards, I felt like an aching noodle, but one of my housemates lent me some movies and I was okay by the next morning. How do I know it was the causa? Two reasons. The other volunteer that ate it also got sick, and before I horfed, the last thought that really got the saliva flowing was of that goddamn potato sandwich. Even writing about that dish is painful for me. And YES I know I just wrote an entire post about barfing. I´ll try to do things that aren´t gross next week.

cuy cuy cuy!

A few days ago the other volunteers and I decided to try cuy, which is guinea pig, for those of you who might not know. Some of the teachers from our Spanish school took us to an authentic cuyeria and told us we would have to pick our cuy out of a pen, much like picking a lobster out at a fancy restaurant. Thankfully they were just good liars, and we actually didn´t have to sentence a particular guinea pig to death. I was really hungry, so I didn´t hesitate when the food arrived. Each plate had a stuffed pepper, a baked potato (of course), and half of a fried cuy. They were cut in half lengthwise, so we each got half a head, one front foot, and one back foot. The meat was pretty much only in the hind leg and was actually pretty tasty. It was very similar to rabbit, but the fried skin had a salty tang that came back to haunt me later. After we picked the bones clean, things got a little out of hand with the cuy feet and our cameras, as evidenced by the pictures above and below. Overall, I feel good about the whole experience. I am glad I tried this cultural dish, though I would not order it again. As I was walking home after the meal, I couldn´t stop thinking about the curled up little feet with the toenails, and the tiny incisors of its half-mouth. Not to mention our childhood pets Blackie and GP... furthermore, the flavor in my mouth stuck around for awhile, and I really thought I might yak. I bought some candy and felt fine after I masked the lingering essence of guinea pig.

On a completely different note, the volunteering experience is going well, but also getting more intense. The more my Spanish improves, the more I pick up on how terribly some of the children are treated. Luckily the program is doing a lot try and improve their lives. For example, the director of the project arranged to have a psychologist come and have a meeting with all the parents in order to discuss healthy ways of raising children. On one of the days I volunteered, I had to help a couple of the kids write anonymous letters to their parents, which would be read out loud at the meeting. One girl´s letter went like this...

Dear Mom and Dad,
I don´t want you to hit me and throw cold water on me. I don´t want you to punish me even though I don´t listen sometimes. I want you to buy me a sea horse. I love you.

I have no idea what the sea horse thing is about, but I looked it up, and that is what she wrote. I felt very strange when I read her letter, because I just had to tell her that her spelling was correct and she did a great job, without acknowledging the content at all. The whole situation is a little disheartening, but I take comfort in the fact that all of these kids are in school and not on the street making tourists feel guilty. Another pleasing thing about the children is that most of them are really happy little maniacs, despite whatever goes on at home. Last week we went to the most run down playground I´ve ever seen, and everyone had a whale of a time running around laughing and avoiding the broken glass. I know it´s clichéd, the whole ´children in poor countries are so spirited and resilient, playing on broken stuff`, but I am actually witnessing it, and it is pretty cool.

MAPI

Machu Picchu is the most beautiful place I have ever been, hands down. We stayed in a humid little town called Aguas Calientes, which is a so so place. Since it is the only town you can stay if you want to catch a bus to the top, everything is more expensive and not as good. I ate alpaca and some greasy potatoes for the equivalent of ten USD, plus a service tax of 10 soles (around 4 USD). The alpaca was pretty tough, but had a delicious cow flavor. As for Machu Picchu, it was entirely worth the expense and hassle. The drive up to the site takes place on these narrow switchbacks, which led to a lot of clenching, but the scenery is insane. Gigantic mountains are on all sides, and they are covered in what looks like a dark green shag carpet. I can´t really describe the ruins...it seems impossible that people were capable of building such precise structures without modern tools. There are two climbs you can do from the ruins. One is called Wayna Picchu, and for some reason it is the most popular. You have to get to the bus station at two in the morning just to get a stamp that allows to you climb it during the heat of the day. If we could have climbed it at 4 and watched the sunrise, I probably would have been more willing. Instead we climbed partway up Machu Picchu, which the guidebook said has a better view and less people. The worker at the bottom of the mountain said it would take an hour to reach the summit, but it turns out that is only true of extremely athletic billy goats. Someone who was descending said it actually takes around two and a half hours. After an hour of uneven steep stair climbing, we gave up and took some sweaty pictures before heading back to Aguas Calientes.

Mother´s Day is a huge deal in Peru. Actually, anything is a huge deal. Someone sets off fireworks every morning outside my window, just to celebrate the arrival of 6 am. Anyhoo, when we got back to Aguas Calientes there was an absurdly loud band playing in the plaza, and hundreds of people milling about. The traditionally dressed mamas were all drinking these giant bottles of beer and dancing to what has to be the Peruvian equivilent to ranchero. Two guys were passing out free shots of whisky with a hint of sour, and all of this occurred in an absolute downpour. To complete this weird scene, I saw three of those Chinese Crested dogs, and they all had owners! Out of all the dogs roaming the streets, people choose bald rats to keep as pets. I´m back in the dust of Cusco, and slowly discovering Machu Picchu mosquito bites on my pasty gringa skin.

One more thing, I taught a kid how to plot points on a graph. Explaining these things in Spanish isn´t very easy for me, so I was unbelievably pleased when he actually got it.

Note the awkwardness when smiling for pictures.

This body was not designed for salsa

Yesterday I went to a salsa lesson with the other volunteers. We went to a really neat bar in the middle of the city, and the salsa results were disastrous. One girl is from the Dominican Republic, so she actually looked cool when she danced, but I was like an octopus wiggling around all over the place. After the lesson we stayed for a show, which was aahhhhsome. A Peruvian band played covers of the Clash, Alanis Morissette, and Shaniah Twain. I really couldn´t have been happier....

Drinking in Cusco is economical in two ways. The drinks are about three bucks, and two drinks really feels like four with the altitude. A couple Cusco sours and I´m good to go. Another bonus with drinking less booze is no hangover today. This is fortunate, because I have a two hour class followed by volunteering. I am really starting to enjoy my project. A new boy joined yesterday and we became buddies, as neither of us really knew what we were doing. We ended up reading a story together, where he would read one page and I would read the other. We were both sounding words out like second graders, except he actually is a second grader. It was beautiful.

Potato

I have eaten more potatoes in four days than I have in my whole life. The food is very good, don't get me wrong, but I had no idea there was such potato insanity. Yesterday's meals were bread and jam for breakfast, potato soup with noodles and potato curry with rice for lunch, potato soup with noodles and fried potato cakes with rice for dinner. Potato doesn't even look like a word anymore. On a more important note, I have been volunteering with the kids for the past two days. Most of them are just like average children, they are excited, loud, and sweetly manipulative. There are a few that are clearly struggling with their circumstances at home, so it has been difficult to help them or even befriend them.

On the first day, I quickly learned the verb ''prestame'', meaning ''give me''. These kids are obsessed with having objects. For example, I wore some earrings the first day, and this little girl started smiling and complimenting me, and then said ''prestameeee'' as she slowly took them out of my ears. I also have to keep a close watch on any classroom things like pencil sharpeners and scissors. Because my Spanish isn't great, the program leaders put me with the six year olds. They are unbelievably cute, but are incapable of focusing. I'm expected to make sure they finish their homework, which consists of filling up pages of graph paper with numbers or cursive letters. I am starting to run out of ways to motivate them, because it IS really boring work. I started getting really desperate yesterday, saying things in Spanish like ''the 5s need you'', ''please continue with the 5s'', and ''5s are important for life''. It doesn't help that their homework is occasionally bizarre. One girl had a sheet of paper that said ''horizontalmente"  and a bunch of math problems like 23432 minus 14563. So instead of stacking the numbers and easily subtracting, she was trying to do it in her head and missing every one. I tried to teach her verticalmente, but she said her teacher wouldn't like that.

My favorite part of volunteering is when the older children need help with their English homework. I am the only person in the building that speaks English, so it is actually a useful skill for the program, and it really helps my Spanish when I try to explain grammar concepts. I finally start my Spanish classes today, which will be a huge help for the areas I am struggling with. This weekend I head to Machu Picchu with another volunteer from Portland. Pretty kooky!

yipes

Holy cats and jammers, the buses here are terrifying. I went to my volunteer project for the first time yesterday, and the whole experience was a little exhausting. Luckily, my coordinator went with me, because the neighborhood is about 25 minutes away, and I would probably still be wandering around there if he hadn't showed me which bus to take. Cusco is shaped like a bowl, and I live in the bottom. So in order to get to my project we had to drive up these steep streets and eventually get dropped off in Santiago, which is a relatively dangerous area. I actually watched as the white people with fannypacks disappeared and the number of sketchy looking dogs multiplied. The streets are alive with traditionally dressed women carrying screaming children and shops that sell the most bizarre products. One store exclusively sold shoe soles. A whole wall of them. After we arrived at the project we found out that no children were present because of some random holiday. Instead we had a meeting with the people who run the place and went over the activities for the week. The other volunteers are all from Spain, and  I gathered that they had been there for awhile. Spain Spanish is insanely fast. I caught every third word, and by the end I felt pretty overwhelmed. Today I will actually work with the children, so hopefully that goes all right. The bus ride back was even more nerve wracking, because it was essentially all downhill. It was honestly like being on Space Mountain, except you can't really reassure yourself that it is safe. How there are not thousands of flattened people in the street continues to be a mystery. I am simultaneously missing Oregon and having a crazy good time. Not a bad place to be.

peru does rule

I finally arrived in Cusco. After spending 24 hours in airports and planes I felt like a cold fried egg, but now I am feeling much better. The altitude has not been too troublesome. I slept all day yesterday and had a mild headache , but that was the extent of it. My heart starts pounding after five minutes of walking, but I was already a wuss in the States, so it´s no biggie. My host mom is awesome. She walks around with curlers in her hair and serves up extremely starchy meals. I can´t get a handle on the food here...in the Lima airport there was a restaurant that served ceviche, soup, french fries with fried eggs on top, and asian noodles. I foresee a ton of bread and rice in my future, which I am happy with. There are other volunteers living in my house, which is a huge relief. This goof from Colorado has been showing me around and giving advice, and that has been really helpful. The people of Cusco are very nice, and their Spanish is pretty easy to understand. The only annoying people are the guys that whistle and honk at me when I am walking around. I´d get the same treatment walking down Lancaster street in Salem, but here the whistles are different. In the States it´s like weeeoooh woooo, but here it´s really sharp like SUU SUU. Kind of threatening, but harmless I think. I start volunteering today, so I am excited and a little scared. Scared mostly because I have to figure out the buses, but also because I have never worked with kids. I am really used to people of a wrinkled variety, so this will be an interesting change. I´ll try to get some pictures up as soon as I take more. The city isn´t exactly beautiful but it is amazing to look at. The main streets branch off into these extremely narrow cobblestone roads that have ´´sidewalks´´. I think at this point the most dangerous activity is walking next to cars on these roads. The drivers are kind of maniacs, and traffic laws are more like traffic suggestions. I´m still getting acquainted with everything down here, but so far I am really enjoying it. I´m also sorry if my writing is strange, my brain is struggling with being bilingual.That is all for now, I will update sooner or later.