My Personal Legend

School is so uncontroversial, and doesn't cause sleepless nights thinking about how to solve problems! Granted I don't have a typical job, here is an attempt to compare school vs. work stress levels: LSE exams had me dealing with anxiety attack eating Covent Graden cookies with friends, while the work problems here have me awake at 5 am reading The Alchemist. And sometime between a 10pm headache and 5am insomnia I realise (or talk myself into believing) that Peru is part of my Personal Legend (read the Alchemist if you haven't).

Because Huycho is beautiful at 6am and at sunset and every other time of day,

because rain in the distance in the Sacred Valley is magic,
because of the genuine enthusiasm in Huayllabamba's school children at the news they'll have a volunteer teaching English,
because of the way the Machigenga know their river and their jungle
and because of the peace in the afternoon at Palotoa,
because of Rosa's trust in me and Frida's friendship
and all the women dealing with and fighting against machismo every day,
becuase of the sound of rain on a plastic roof,
because of the school directors' cooperation
and the host families treating me like a daughter,
because of Orisson's strenght and courage,
because of the volunteers who believe in what they're doing,
because I believe in what we're doing and in the people we're working for,
and because everything I learn will stay with me for ever.
This is why it is all worth it, and I know I am fulfilling my Personal Legend.

All simply because I have a family and friends who know--that (living in India for 6 months or) working in the Peruvian jungle is not, in reality, as romantic or as fascinating as it sounds.

Side note: Simone's host family refuses to belive we are not dating, so when I called to let him know I could not buy his ticket to Machu Picchu because they only sell it to the person going and he'd have to come to Cusco to buy it, the message delivered to him by his host father was: your love Erica called to know how you're doing.

The birthday / Easter weekend

This year my 24th birthday and Easter combined in one weekend. Friday night I went out with Simone and we socialized with two American women and their brichero friend at the Irish Pub, and then we went to another pub and a club. You will forgive me if I'm discouraged by the men I met during the night: 1) the brichero with the Americans, 2) the nameless guy I froze and convinced to leave in 10 seconds in the club, 3) the perverted architect from Arequipa who's obviously met lots of easy gringas and whom I would have punched in the face if it didn't disgust me to touch him, and 4) the artist/writer who just opened a gallery in San Blas and was interesting to talk to till he decided to hit on me and the conversation became so boring I went home.

That night I slept about 2 hours, because Nico and his friends woke up at 6:30 and involved the whole house in their awakeness.

My birthday was a weird and uneventful day, made of cleaning, walking around local markets where they sell whole pigs and donkey heads, lunch at home and sleeping the whole afternoon to recover from the night before. In the evening Simone and I went to dinner with the two American women to this place they loved (for mysterious reasons): we had sandwiches and got sick.

On Easter Sunday I went to church at the cathedral: the tackiness of the interiors of the churches in Cusco is really something! Statues of bleeding suffering saints, dressed in velvet and golden 15th-century-Spain outfits, massive gold and silver altarpieces and dark painting of martyr saints, all topped by the priest screaming from the altar a Medieval-style sermon. The most disturbing thing, to me, was the military procession, complete with soldiers in uniforms and machine-guns, bands, slogans and firecrackers, right in front of the cathedral during the Easter service.

Overall I find the religion here quite idolatrous: like most uneducated people they have an admirably strong faith, but based more on the adoration of saints and the belief in all sorts of miracles and apparitions. I bought a cross made of tweeds and berries, but most importantly with lots of garlic attached to it to keep away the evil eye. We also threw red petal from the balcony at statues of Jesus and the Vergin Mary in procession: the flowers represent the blood of Christ and they are the same that were used for some Inca ritual of sacrifice. Of course any religion can be interpreted and practiced at different levels by different people, and there are always people who accept dogmas and others who question everything, but you will understand, in the midst of all this pagan-ness, my disappointment at the lack of Easter eggs!

You should hear me speak Italian, my Italian is so good that only my greataunt Alba and a few other originally perceptive people can detect the American accent which I have lost even in English. Only when you start talking to me about italian music, TV, or places in Turin it comes out that I'm faking it! Or so seem to think all the Italians I've met in the past couple years.

On one side it freak me out to think that, for no apparent reason other than my mother's genes, I have turned myself into the cultural hybrid which is a foreigner everywhere, especially in my own country. On the other hand I have reached the intolerance of the over-exposed: different cultures are so interesting and fascinating...till you have to deal with them. (Just think of how hard it is to deal with people from your own culture...). I've become the kind of person who is forever grateful for the places non-places, where western-style multiculturalism is the pervasive culture.

Los 12 Platos

Peruvian tradition wants that on Good Friday (or Thursday) all families spend the day at home preparing 12 traditional dishes, and eating them. So this morning we went to the market, where all the food had changed to adapt to the holiday, and bought the ingredients for our lunch. Since this is Semana Santa, or Holy Week, you don't eat meat, and the 12 platos are to commemorate Christ's Last Supper and they are 11 for the apostoles and one for Christ himself.

Shopping for the 12 platos

Most people only cook about 4 or 5 dishes, because it is quite expensive to prepare so much food, but we had almost all of them. There are no set rules on what you're supposed to cook, but most people prepare something like what we had: 1) a soup of vegetables and shellfish, 2) a second course of pumpkin and fava beans to eat with white 3) rice, 4) another dish made with fries, tomatoes and codfish, 5) another soup made with potatoes, 6) arroz con leche (sort of rice pudding) with 7) masamorra--a purple sweet sauce with berries and apples, 8) empanadas (a flat biscuit), 9) corn cake, 10) homemade peaches and pears in syrup... and to reach #12 we had merengues and other biscuits. Plus wine and orange juice...intense!
It was really nice and we had Maria's friend, her son and daugher over.

I needed today's break to relax from the (work and touring-related) stress of the last few days. It looks like we're going to leave the the Andean food project aside for a while, until the volunteer project is well-established. I'm not working for the World Bank but in the last few days I've remembered so many times Dr. Hall's words: "Say what you think now that you're in an academic environment, because when you'll be working often you won't be allowed to"...right.

On Tuesday I had a meeting with the primary and kindergarden teachers from the 5 communities in the Valley. Only 2 elementary school and one kindergarden directors showed up--because the mayor had sent out a letter notifying them about the meeting that same morning. Note to self: avoid politicians whenever possible, but make them think they are central to any action. Anyway the teachers are excited about receiving volunteers and will help me identify host families.

Here are pictures from last weekend's tour of the Valley and trekking.

Touring and Trekking

P.S. I am infinitely gratefuly for internet, MSN, gmail chat, skype and all the people I talk to every day--it would be so much harder without you :)

Naivety

Last week I went to look for the Mayor of Calca and found someone substituting him while he's away. This man owns a piece of land along the main road of the Sacred Valley circuit, and he is interested in using it for the Andean Food Product project. (Side note: his brother teaches Economics at the University of Turin. Small World?). The same problem of Inca walls exists there, but I found out you can build simple construictions (made of wood and earth) close to the walls. Also, I'm assuming he'd want to run it as a buisiness and make a profit (we need to meet with him, his wife, Maria and Geoff to discuss). If it is run as a business there would be a few problems: 1) I am quite uninterested in managing a business, even if it might have a positive social impact; 2) We couldn't ask for funding to the FAO like I was planning, or an other international organization; 3) We would have to pay 22% taxes to the national government. We'll see where this goes...

On Friday Simone and I went with Geoff and his friend John on a tour of the Sacred Valley by car and it's the only reasonable way to tour. We saw Sachsaywaman Q'enqo and Pisac. The only problem with these Inca ruins is that no one knows what they were, they probably all served as defensive structures, sacred sites and residential areas--just like modern cities. Pisac is absolutely stunning, but what is more stunning is the view. Tell me if you've seen any place as beautiful as the Sacred Valley when it rains: it's poetry made tangible, with clouds rushing though creating an infinite variety of greys and greens, and lighting in the distance. It's not just aesthetical beauty, there is a magical athmosphere to it, which compensates for so many things. Part of my growing cynicism: when people asked me what I liked most about Nicaragua, without hesitating I answered: the people! To the same question about Peru, with the same certainty I answer: the mountains.

This weekend Maria, Geoff, his friend John, Simone and I went trekking: it was a trial run, and it was obvious. The fact I had such a hard time dealing with the organizational difficulties probably shows how much more of a gringa I am than I was in Nicaragua. Obviously, as during the 4 years which have passed since then I have developed my personality almost entirely in gringoland (even with limited exposure to the Italian disorganization). We were supposed to leave at 9am and left at 2.30pm: first we were late because this is Peru, and then the two malnourished mules and their very drunk owner could not carry all our stuff (tents to sleep and 2 tents to cook, sleeping bags, mats, tables, chairs, pots, pans, enough food to feed an army for a year, stove, portable shower, tablecloth, cups, glass glasses, saucers, coffee maker and many other things you wouldn't guess you'd need on a 2-night trekking). Eventually Onorio came back with 3 mules and it took a woman (his wife Julia) to loads them and set off. We hiked half an hour to their house, and stopped for lunch. Then we set off to the lake Black Lake without waiting for Onorio, so we got lost, lost time waiting for him, and rushed up as it was getting dark when we realised there is more than one path to the lake. It's amazing that people live in isolated houses all over the mountains, and they walk up and down every day with their animals or to go to the villages. We eventually caught up with Onorio and the mules but didn't make it to the lake before dark so we ended up setting up camp in the dark and on a slope, sliding to the bottom of the tent all night long. I must admit the pasta with "pesto" (which was actually a spinach sauce) we had for dinner was delicious, and still I wouldn't bring it camping. Same for the pancakes we had for breakfast, bus as they say "when in Rome...". Yesterday morning we hiked up about 15 minutes and arrived to a beautiful "valley" at 3600 mts with a lake in the middle and a waterfall falling into it. Stunning. We set up camp, Simone and John couldn't resist the calling of the lake and dove in, only to rush out after 2 seconds. Then we hiked up to the Yellow Lake, behind the waterfall at 4200 mts. Unbelieveable: you could see all the valley, the mountains, and the valley behind them. We were so lucky to have the only 2 days without rain in the last couple weeks: we could see the rain on the other side of the Valley, but it didn't reach us. Last night we slept by the lake (turns out the glacier where we were supposed to sleep the second night was 5 mountains and a few days of hike away), and this morning we came down. The place was gorgeous and I wouldn't even be irritated about the complete disorganizationa and lack pf practicality (which I pointed out, since this is supposed to be a trial for tourist groups), if I hadn't been paying for the trip. [My pictures coming soon...]

Today in Cusco there were huge processions for the Lord of the Earthquakes. It was so crowded I could see in the distance a crucifix being taken around the city and a band palying, but I couldn't make my way through the crown to see it properly.

(Not) dealing with politicians

I just finished watching "An Inconvenient Truth" (I know, it was about time) and the movie is brilliant! Check out the Cimate Crisis website. I guess it reinforced my plan to get into environmental work, addressing the links between environmental degradation and poverty (sitting in an office in London?).

Yesterday I talked to the Mayor of Huayllabamba, and it's simply a lost cause. He's obviously clueless about development (I'm assuming he has a high school diploma), and in the typical attitude of all the developing countries I've seen: gringo= money, and he tried to see what he could get out of me. So this is my chance to learn some diplomatic skills. After telling the mayor I found out the buildings are going to be demolished and no, I don't think they'll win the trial in Lima because I know they already lost in Cusco, I kindly informed him I would appreciate if he told me things the way they are. So he had the nerve to suggest we start the project anyway, when in reality you can be sewed for even touching the buildings. Finally I had to tell him we won't be working there.

Tomorrow I'll try to propose the project to the mayors of Urubamba and Calca, hopefully I'll have better luck!

Ollantaytambo & Chinchero

Tourist vs. traveller: the Sacred Valley

After over one month in Peru I figured it was time to go on a tourist tour of the Inca Sacred Valley...what a disappointment! If you ever come, don't take tour buses, take private tours: they're worth the few extra bucks (and I know a good tour guide). Simone and I left yesterday morning around 8:30 and in the typical orgnized travel style by 1:30 pm we had seen a market and had lunch. Later in the day we saw Ollantaytambo, an Inca temple for the Sun, with a guide giving us less information than a cheap guidebook, and a church in Chinchero and Inca walls we were told nothing about. Hopefully part of our tour will be reimboursed because we didn't even enter the archaeological sites in Pisac, Q'enqo and others, and Wednesday we should go and see the rest.

Overall I've been living the tourist life in the last few days, going out to eat, exploring the barrio San Blas in Cusco, which is beautiful, and walking around. I even went to Mama Africa, the most famous gringo club in town, with Simone. It's kida cool, packed with gringos and bricheras (Simone wouldn't believe the beautiful Peruvian woman with the navel-deep shirt cut aiming for the old guy is a brichera!). My search for an interesting gringuito is not working, probably because I never go out in Cusco--except with Simone, who to his (and my) desperation obviously looked like my boyfriend. I had a strong "London-missage" moment yesterday when the two guys from London on the Sacred Valley tour pulled out an umbrella when it started raining! The hilariousness of the scene is probably not obvious to you, but definitely was to all Peruvians and people living here!

Saturday was Corn Fest in Huayllabamba, the world capital of corn. We planned to leave Cusco at 10 and left at 12:30. PST, i guess (Peruvian Standard Time). Geoff, Maria's husband, told me he'll never get used to it: I hope I won't either, as much as I can appreciate diversity I want to keep considering a 2 hour delay a lack of respect to the person waiting for me. I am normally late, but sometimes I miss the British punctuality.
We eventually made it to Huayllabamba, too late for lunch at Rosa's, church, and the festival in Urquillos. Anyway we made it to the festival in Huayllabamba, where people from all the communities were performing the traditional dances in traditional dresses (pics coming soon). Really interesting! Simone and I were the only gringos there, quite different from the organized tour of the Valley.

Tomorrow morning I am meeting the Mayor to clarify the Andean product project issues, I'm gonna need strength...

All the things money can buy

If I've learned anything at all from living in countries where there is a lot of poverty it is that money is everything. Consider what money can buy: besides the obvious, food clothing, ipods and international travel. Money can buy freedom, health, choice, power, knowledge and love. I am not being cynical: you (your family) have money therefore you don't have to work and you can pay for (the best) schools, where you learn all sorts of stuff, including that you are the best. Also money is buying you experiences (travel, books, sports, movies) that give you more knowledge, thus more confidence, thus more power. Then you (young woman) are rich enough to not marry the first man you see who mistreats you and abuses you and cheats on you. Money buys you the power to not become pregnant at 15, and to choose the man/woman you will love and who will love you. Also money will buy you peace at home because you will not be fighting about why you don't have. You are rich enough to choose where to live, what job to have, how to speak, dress and look. You are rich enough to have free time, and choose how to spend it. You are rich enought to make informed decisions. To an extent money can buy you health, in terms of avoinding all poverty-related diseases and payign for the best cures. So money buys not only quality of life, but life itself.

On a different note...I am suddenly feeling drained. Today I talked to a man in the Mayor's office who gave me the news that triggered my exhaustion: the houses we were planning to use for the Andean product tasting project with the women are most likely going to be demolished. They were built last year even though permission had been denied by the central government, and the construction was entirely funded by the local government. Permission was denied because the piece of land where they are built is "untouchable" because apparently there are Inca ruins (In the Sacred Valley there are thousands of houses built on Inca walls).
The town of Huayllabamba is in court trying to oppose the government's plan to throw down the buildings; they have lost the appeal in Cusco and are now at the Supreme Court in Lima... I am speachless about the whole situation and about the Mayor not mentioning anything about this. Oh, I almost forgot another detail the Mayor hadn't mentioned: a parashooting club wants to rent the houses if they are not destroyed.
We'll have to find a different way to set up the project.

On the positive side everything with the volunteer project is going well, we are getting partnership offers left and right and everybody in the Sacred Valley wants to host volunteers. Simone is very happy with his host family and the stunning beauty of his community; yesterday and today I went to visit him and it was quite refreshing to have some home-ness here.

Reality is how you percieve it

Since our first volunteer for this year arrived yesterday, and seeing his reactions to everything he saw, I've been realising how much reality is what we perceive.

As the main idea of the volunteer project is cultural exchange, Maria and I decided to take Simone to have a typical Peruvian breakfast. We went to the famous restaurant "Elmer", El Mercado (The Market), to eat caldo de cabeza and caldo de panza, i.e. a broth containing either a cow's stomach or a goat's head. Other options are with chicken of pork feet. I must admit it's not (yet) my favourite food, but I can eat it without cringing. Obviously the poor guy was horrified and took tons of pictures but didn't even taste the food.

We then drove from Cusco to Huycho, the community where he is living and volunteering. While driving away from Cusco there is a view of the city and surrounding mountains which--to me--is gorgeous. So of course I froze when Simone said Cusco is built with no order and looks like a shanty town (un buon torinese abituato a una citta' perfettamente quadrata...). What is he going to think about Pilcopata, which actually does look like a slum, with most houses made of tin or wood and no paved roads at all? I was a bit worried, but today I talked on the phone with a friend who's worked in Africa twice, and she said to me: "It's his first experience, he's supposed to hate it! Or at least let his first week be hard, or he'll go back talking about all the virtues of poverty" (like so many people who clearly have never experienced it do!). She's right.

In a way he reminds me of myself the first time I arrived in Nicaragua, when I was 19 and absolutely shocked to realise that most people don't have their own bed, that in most houses there aren't enough chairs, or clothes, or food. Again I wander if I've become numb to poverty, because I think Simone's host family is well-off. The house is 2 floors and partly made of bricks, they have a bathroom with shower and hot water, and a little shop attached to the house. They have pigs, chickens and cuys, and three kids in (extremely cheap) private schools... And part of the house is made of mud bricks, the two youngest kids share the same bed and the oldest daughter's bed has no mattress. They have few chairs so they have to sit on old wooden stools or cut tree trunks, the paint is coming off the walls and I'm absolutely not sure they actually use their bathroom (water is expensive). And the father can't work because of a horrible car accident he had a few months ago. I hope Simone will realise his help working in their house and fields is really useful.

When I was in Nicaragua everything shocked me, I had a journal where I used to write down everything, all the details I don't even notice now, about people's houses, jobs, clothes, habits. On the Friday of my first week of work at Las Hormiguitas, the crentre for children street vendors in Matagalpa, I walked a little girl home. As I walked on the dirt road up to her house I kept thinking "I don't think I'm ready for what I'm about to see", and I wasn't. I was shocked to see their house. A solid brick house with a patio, matresses to sleep on, a table and TV. What was so shocking to me about the woman living there with her 6 kids and one grandkid? Now I can't place my finger on it, nor I can explain why I started crying when a few days earlier I had seen one of her sons split my sandwich in half to share it with his brother. Those experiences marked me so deeply I still remember all the details after 4 years. So how come I thought nothing of Alicia's wooden house with 2 beds for 4 people in Pilcopata? Maybe I have developed a sort of sarcastic coping attitude, or I've simply realised I'm not gonna change the world, maybe my parents were right insisting I get my masters before dedicating my life to starving kids in Nicaragua. Does education bring detatchement?

Everything was new then, and I adapted incredibly well, so much that I ended up losing touch with "my" reality, thinking I could live there for the rest of my life, showering out of a bucket and dating an illitterate guy who's job with the truck delivering water to houses doesn't even exist in my world. In the past 4 years I've changed enough to know that I am just about as spoiled as you can get, and I can do this kind of work because I live in a gorgeous house in the centre of Cusco with all conforts. I understand the reality surrounding me more than I did in Nicaragua (or in Tanzania--where I wondered around cluelessly for 3 months understanding absolutely nothing), and I have a better idea of what I want in my work and life. This keeps me from the dangers of bricheros or of wanting to live the life of the priest in the City of Joy, but for the same reasons it gets much more lonely than it did in Nicaragua.

Tonight there is reason to celebrate...another organization responded and is interested in forming a partnership (that makes a total of 4, which if they work out would bring us lots of volunteers!), and the English version of our website is ready. Check it out (and let me know what you think)!
www.comunidades-unidas.org