Revolution
July 2008 
Finding faeiries in Peru...
Posted on Feb 14th, 2008
by 
Kate Mariposa
Kate Mariposa
On our bus trip from Puno to Cusco, through the country-side of terraced fields, flocks of sheep and llamas, we also saw many signs of solidarity painted on the sides of houses and walls... socialismo, Che Guevara, the rainbow Cusco flag, a proud Incan figure, repeated over and again.
We arrived in Cusco to a strike. The government wants to privitize Machu Picchu, and the other Incan ruins in the Sacred Valley that are popular for tourists. In the morning, there had been a big march in the street, and many stores were closed. The taxis were not running, though we did get a ride for double the price, the cab driver risking getting his windshield pelted with rocks for our $1.75 fare...
The strike, though a hot topic of conversation, didn´t do much to ebb the flow and hum of tourism in this, the former Incan capital city, where it is hard to walk 5 steps without an offer of a sweater, a massage, a trek to Machu Picchu. Where it is possible to have any number of sacred medicine journeys, with people who may or may not be trained shamans. Where little boys who call themselves Pablo Picasso try to sell you postcards they say they painted...
This city is beautiful, as well, with numerous cathedrals where sometimes you can see the Incan walls poking through, the bones upon which the Spanish built their empire. Not far from town are numerous Incan ruins, the closest, Saqsaywaman, a site where Pizzaro´s troops slaughtered a number of Incans in battle.
The ruins are enormous, a mere fraction of their initial size--with their proximity to the city, many giant stones were removed during colonial times. This ceremonial site became a fortress out of need. The site is still living, though, as women in traditional dress cross the paths on the way home to the hills above town, and cows, sheep, llamas, and crops all share the surrounding land.
While we are visiting the ruins, a thunderstorm crashes in overhead, and we take shelter in one of several caves. We meet a Frenchman who is walking the former Incan territory--from Colombia to Chile... with a llama and a dog, and his new Peruvian friends. They explain to us the proper way to receive a coca offering (the sacred plant of the Incas and other indigenous peoples, good for altitude sickness, preventing hunger and thirst, and giving a lift of energy). You receive the offering in both cupped hands, and give 3 leaves to PachaMama. If you ever lose your way on the trail, you can place 3 leaves on the trail, and she will help you find your way. It really works, exclaim our new friends!
On the way home from the ruins, we find one of our favorite treats--choclo con queso, ears of corn with giant yellow kernals, and a slab of salty Incan cheese. The cheese is sold in market in enormous wheels decorated like wedding cakes, the corn is pulled off the ear by hand. A bit further down the road, we find another treat, indicated by a red plastic bag hanging outside a house: chicha! Homemade corn beer, which tastes like fermented corn. Inside, a family of women in traditional dress are finishing their giant cups: great-grandmother, grandmother, daughter with a baby on her back. The oldest woman is apparently telling the youngest to drink up in Quechua, she chugs the last of her drink and the ladies depart.
Another favorite treat appears at the store Chocolate, which was closed the first few days of our visit. We drink big mugs of steaming liquid chocolate, made by melting chocolate squares, and nibble delectable squares of dark chocolate.
We chose to go hiking to some other ruins the morning of Carnival. After our experience in Puno, we expect it to last all day. When we arrive in the Plaza de Armas around 3, just 2 bands are still marching and dancing, all the while people are pouring water on them from
2nd story balconies, and spraying shaving cream in the streets. Quite a party!
In Cusco, we find a favorite vegetarian restaurant El Arbol (the tree) where we get our fill of veggies and even real chai! After our third meal there, I find a small postcard there for the World Peace and Prayer day in Japan... a sign to me that I was meant to find them!
The faeiries i found in Cusco were on a mural in a hostal, made of the owner´s grandchildren. That morning I had the thought that my prayers are coming true, and there i found the fairies (my alter-ego being the rainbow sparkle fairy)... I later learned that Kia, the woman who started Casa de Milagros where we will be volunteering, delivered one of those babies! Truly we are all connected...
One of my favorite connections in Cusco was with the woman from whom I bought my scarf. I am from the campo, the country, senorita, she told me. My mother did not learn to speak Spanish, she only speaks Quechua. She learned instead to weave, to cook. This woman proceeded to explain to me how she spins the wool from sheep. When we didn´t recognize the word for sheep, she baaaa´d for us. (We might not learn the word for sheep, for how fun it is to have people baaa in explanation....) She told me the names of the plants for the natural dyes, and the process to make them. I was honored to buy my scarf after this, in green, somehow everything on this trip is green for me...
After buying my scarf, we visited our friend Cathy, who is an anthropologist from Iowa, writing a book on the people of a small town she has studied for 21 years. Cathy showed us photos of the natural dye-making process. She showed us photos of the women from her town, and explained that they make their own clothes out of synthetics--they can get a tighter weave--and save the alpaca garmets for the market-wares. Cathy also explained that what we see as ¨traditional clothing¨is new since the time of conquest, when the Spaniards mandated that the natives adopt Spanish peasant dress. She also said that I was wrong when I thought that the people here acquaint the Virgin Mary with Pachamama. In her village, at least, the people have told her that Mary taught them the ¨civilized¨ ways and practices.
We had heard talk of another strike in Cusco, this one perhpas to last indefinitely, at least of the rail to Cusco and the airport. We felt ready to get out of this town with its deep history of pride and conflict, marvelous beauty, spirituality, and spiritual materialism...
We arrived in Cusco to a strike. The government wants to privitize Machu Picchu, and the other Incan ruins in the Sacred Valley that are popular for tourists. In the morning, there had been a big march in the street, and many stores were closed. The taxis were not running, though we did get a ride for double the price, the cab driver risking getting his windshield pelted with rocks for our $1.75 fare...
The strike, though a hot topic of conversation, didn´t do much to ebb the flow and hum of tourism in this, the former Incan capital city, where it is hard to walk 5 steps without an offer of a sweater, a massage, a trek to Machu Picchu. Where it is possible to have any number of sacred medicine journeys, with people who may or may not be trained shamans. Where little boys who call themselves Pablo Picasso try to sell you postcards they say they painted...
This city is beautiful, as well, with numerous cathedrals where sometimes you can see the Incan walls poking through, the bones upon which the Spanish built their empire. Not far from town are numerous Incan ruins, the closest, Saqsaywaman, a site where Pizzaro´s troops slaughtered a number of Incans in battle.
The ruins are enormous, a mere fraction of their initial size--with their proximity to the city, many giant stones were removed during colonial times. This ceremonial site became a fortress out of need. The site is still living, though, as women in traditional dress cross the paths on the way home to the hills above town, and cows, sheep, llamas, and crops all share the surrounding land.
While we are visiting the ruins, a thunderstorm crashes in overhead, and we take shelter in one of several caves. We meet a Frenchman who is walking the former Incan territory--from Colombia to Chile... with a llama and a dog, and his new Peruvian friends. They explain to us the proper way to receive a coca offering (the sacred plant of the Incas and other indigenous peoples, good for altitude sickness, preventing hunger and thirst, and giving a lift of energy). You receive the offering in both cupped hands, and give 3 leaves to PachaMama. If you ever lose your way on the trail, you can place 3 leaves on the trail, and she will help you find your way. It really works, exclaim our new friends!
On the way home from the ruins, we find one of our favorite treats--choclo con queso, ears of corn with giant yellow kernals, and a slab of salty Incan cheese. The cheese is sold in market in enormous wheels decorated like wedding cakes, the corn is pulled off the ear by hand. A bit further down the road, we find another treat, indicated by a red plastic bag hanging outside a house: chicha! Homemade corn beer, which tastes like fermented corn. Inside, a family of women in traditional dress are finishing their giant cups: great-grandmother, grandmother, daughter with a baby on her back. The oldest woman is apparently telling the youngest to drink up in Quechua, she chugs the last of her drink and the ladies depart.
Another favorite treat appears at the store Chocolate, which was closed the first few days of our visit. We drink big mugs of steaming liquid chocolate, made by melting chocolate squares, and nibble delectable squares of dark chocolate.
We chose to go hiking to some other ruins the morning of Carnival. After our experience in Puno, we expect it to last all day. When we arrive in the Plaza de Armas around 3, just 2 bands are still marching and dancing, all the while people are pouring water on them from
2nd story balconies, and spraying shaving cream in the streets. Quite a party!
In Cusco, we find a favorite vegetarian restaurant El Arbol (the tree) where we get our fill of veggies and even real chai! After our third meal there, I find a small postcard there for the World Peace and Prayer day in Japan... a sign to me that I was meant to find them!
The faeiries i found in Cusco were on a mural in a hostal, made of the owner´s grandchildren. That morning I had the thought that my prayers are coming true, and there i found the fairies (my alter-ego being the rainbow sparkle fairy)... I later learned that Kia, the woman who started Casa de Milagros where we will be volunteering, delivered one of those babies! Truly we are all connected...
One of my favorite connections in Cusco was with the woman from whom I bought my scarf. I am from the campo, the country, senorita, she told me. My mother did not learn to speak Spanish, she only speaks Quechua. She learned instead to weave, to cook. This woman proceeded to explain to me how she spins the wool from sheep. When we didn´t recognize the word for sheep, she baaaa´d for us. (We might not learn the word for sheep, for how fun it is to have people baaa in explanation....) She told me the names of the plants for the natural dyes, and the process to make them. I was honored to buy my scarf after this, in green, somehow everything on this trip is green for me...
After buying my scarf, we visited our friend Cathy, who is an anthropologist from Iowa, writing a book on the people of a small town she has studied for 21 years. Cathy showed us photos of the natural dye-making process. She showed us photos of the women from her town, and explained that they make their own clothes out of synthetics--they can get a tighter weave--and save the alpaca garmets for the market-wares. Cathy also explained that what we see as ¨traditional clothing¨is new since the time of conquest, when the Spaniards mandated that the natives adopt Spanish peasant dress. She also said that I was wrong when I thought that the people here acquaint the Virgin Mary with Pachamama. In her village, at least, the people have told her that Mary taught them the ¨civilized¨ ways and practices.
We had heard talk of another strike in Cusco, this one perhpas to last indefinitely, at least of the rail to Cusco and the airport. We felt ready to get out of this town with its deep history of pride and conflict, marvelous beauty, spirituality, and spiritual materialism...
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