Thursday morning I got up at 4:30 am to catch a bus from Ollanta to Urubamba, and another bus to Huaran...to start the hike up to Canchacancha, at 4200m. The men and horses from the community came down to Huaran to take the chairs and materials we were donating to the kindergarden up. It takes the locals 3 hours to walk up from Huaran to Canchacancha, 9km and about 1500m up the mountain, right under the glacier. It took me and Erlinda 4 and a half...really, I'm quite proud of myself ;)
Erlinda works in the restaurant in Ollanta and manages the food projects with the communities and it was great to spend the couple days with her because our relationships developed and became much more positive than what it seemed initially.
Canchacancha...is like going back in time 1000 years, or 500 or 200 in the countryside anywhere in Europe--I don't think things ever changed much until the last century and a half.
Stone houes with wood and straw roofs and dirt floors. Only one room, in the house where I stayed they cooked on the right and slept on the left. They sit near the fire at night, but as it is so high there is very little firewood so the fire is made with sheep and llama dung and a few pieces of wood. No electricity but one oil lamp made out of a plastic bottle. No chimney so the entire roof is black with smoke and we breathed lots of smoke all evening and night (for the joy of the friend who let me borrow a sleeping bag and had recommended not to get it smokey...). One wash basin outside each house, cuys, a cat and a dog inside the house. Everybody works in the fields growing potatoes, and I am being literal when I say ALL they eat is potatoes: for breakfast, lunch and dinner. One of the ways to cook them is digging a hole in the ground and burning something in it so the earth gets really hot, then put the potatoes in and cover it up in earth for about 15 minutes. The potatoes are ready. In the valley they use hot stones and cook potatoes the same way. 10 of us spent the night in Justina's house, I slept on the floor on some sheep skins, wearing 5 layers of clothing, including a jaket, in a sleeping bag and with woolen blankets on top, and I was just fine.
(Unfortunately I can't upload pictures right now because my camera is out of battery, but I will soon.)
Yesterday morning we went to the community meeting and even though my Quechua is improving 'cos now I can say pot, man, woman, cat, eye, corn cob and a few other important things...I couldn't understand a word of what was being said. Then I read Living Heart's introductory letter and no one could understand me. Thankfully Erlinda and Justina were there to translate.
After the meeting and after eating some more potatoes Erlinad and I decided to run down the mountain to get back quickly...and we ran for 2 hours down the mountain. Is it surprising I'm sore today, considering there were no horses to carry the stuff on the way down so I was also carrying a sleeping bag and mat? (I'm in Cusco now 'cos I came to pick up Laura, a volunteer, leaving Ollanta at 5 am--I'm making a habit of getting up at 4:30 apparently!--and we got fully body massages today :) ).
Canchacancha is probably the most shocking place I've seen in Peru, but I want to point out something I was talking about with a Canadian volunteer last night: Canchacancha may be poor, it may be rural, but it is by no means remote or isolated. No community in the Sacred Valley or in the highlands is remote, they are all relatively close to very important tourist destinations, they all see tourists (in Canchacancha almost daily, and no one has ever thought of charging them to camp or to sell them trout and potatoes, or wood to make a campfire...), and they are all relatively well-aware of the world outside their community. Remote is the jungle, where you have to take a bus from Cusco for 10 hours and then a boat for 4 more, and then walk 2 more.
I am temporarily settled in a hostel in Ollantaytambo, the town has between 2000 and 2500 inhabitants, depending on where you draw the line. I am beginning to meet teh foreigners who live there and I am surprised to say I REALLY like it. The place is gorgeous, I really like the people I'm meeting, and what is most shocking is that I like living in such a small town (for now) because I like knowing the reality of it in a place where probably 9 out of 10 people are tourists passing by for a day or two.
Erlinda works in the restaurant in Ollanta and manages the food projects with the communities and it was great to spend the couple days with her because our relationships developed and became much more positive than what it seemed initially.
Canchacancha...is like going back in time 1000 years, or 500 or 200 in the countryside anywhere in Europe--I don't think things ever changed much until the last century and a half.
Stone houes with wood and straw roofs and dirt floors. Only one room, in the house where I stayed they cooked on the right and slept on the left. They sit near the fire at night, but as it is so high there is very little firewood so the fire is made with sheep and llama dung and a few pieces of wood. No electricity but one oil lamp made out of a plastic bottle. No chimney so the entire roof is black with smoke and we breathed lots of smoke all evening and night (for the joy of the friend who let me borrow a sleeping bag and had recommended not to get it smokey...). One wash basin outside each house, cuys, a cat and a dog inside the house. Everybody works in the fields growing potatoes, and I am being literal when I say ALL they eat is potatoes: for breakfast, lunch and dinner. One of the ways to cook them is digging a hole in the ground and burning something in it so the earth gets really hot, then put the potatoes in and cover it up in earth for about 15 minutes. The potatoes are ready. In the valley they use hot stones and cook potatoes the same way. 10 of us spent the night in Justina's house, I slept on the floor on some sheep skins, wearing 5 layers of clothing, including a jaket, in a sleeping bag and with woolen blankets on top, and I was just fine.
(Unfortunately I can't upload pictures right now because my camera is out of battery, but I will soon.)
Yesterday morning we went to the community meeting and even though my Quechua is improving 'cos now I can say pot, man, woman, cat, eye, corn cob and a few other important things...I couldn't understand a word of what was being said. Then I read Living Heart's introductory letter and no one could understand me. Thankfully Erlinda and Justina were there to translate.
After the meeting and after eating some more potatoes Erlinad and I decided to run down the mountain to get back quickly...and we ran for 2 hours down the mountain. Is it surprising I'm sore today, considering there were no horses to carry the stuff on the way down so I was also carrying a sleeping bag and mat? (I'm in Cusco now 'cos I came to pick up Laura, a volunteer, leaving Ollanta at 5 am--I'm making a habit of getting up at 4:30 apparently!--and we got fully body massages today :) ).
Canchacancha is probably the most shocking place I've seen in Peru, but I want to point out something I was talking about with a Canadian volunteer last night: Canchacancha may be poor, it may be rural, but it is by no means remote or isolated. No community in the Sacred Valley or in the highlands is remote, they are all relatively close to very important tourist destinations, they all see tourists (in Canchacancha almost daily, and no one has ever thought of charging them to camp or to sell them trout and potatoes, or wood to make a campfire...), and they are all relatively well-aware of the world outside their community. Remote is the jungle, where you have to take a bus from Cusco for 10 hours and then a boat for 4 more, and then walk 2 more.
I am temporarily settled in a hostel in Ollantaytambo, the town has between 2000 and 2500 inhabitants, depending on where you draw the line. I am beginning to meet teh foreigners who live there and I am surprised to say I REALLY like it. The place is gorgeous, I really like the people I'm meeting, and what is most shocking is that I like living in such a small town (for now) because I like knowing the reality of it in a place where probably 9 out of 10 people are tourists passing by for a day or two.
3 comments:
As I've always told you, it's not the size of the place you live in which determines your quality of life, but the people you meet, the atmosphere, the things you can do and the friendship surrounding you. A big city can be heaven and a small village hell; or exactly the opposite...
P.S. There is also another variant, namely you're getting older... and therefore needing glamorous shops and smart social life less and understanding the deep meaning of things more
Che bello immergersi in luoghi sconosciuti, remoti ma nel contempo affascinanti. 9 su 10 sono turisti... troppo stress in occidente, li si ritrova la pace.
Clelia
it's actually quite dangerous to idealise the simple life of the developing world...in all my experiences not having money for basic needs is way more stressful than having to be at work on time or getting stuck in traffic...
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