Viva el Perú!

Viva el Perú! 

That is how I was greeted by a mountain towering in the distance as my bus finally arrived in the city of Cusco, after a gruelling 22 hours on the road.  The words were etched into the face of the mountain and served as a warm welcome.  Were it not for those words, the mountain wouldn’t really stand out as the entire city of Cusco is the historical capital of the country, and is surrounded by towering mountains, the city itself sitting at a rather impressive 3,300 metres above sea level.  Needless to say, I’ve been suffering the effects of some altitude sickness, having almost no appetite recently.   If you’re struggling with a diet plan, this is without a doubt the place to come!

Since leaving on Monday, I’ve had about a 50 hour journey and finally arrived in Cusco on Wednesday afternoon in the midst of Inti Raymi celebrations. I’ve been here for a total of three and half days now and I’ve got quite a lot to say. I guess I’ll just go from the start.

After touching down in Lima in the late Tuesday morning, I passed through the superficial safety section and was greeted by a man called Cesar, holding up a sign with my name. He drove me to the Cruz del Sur station where I spent a few hours waiting, and had a plate of steak and chips, Peru style. I’m a bit sad to say I’ve not yet really sampled much authentic Peruvian cuisine yet, although I did try alpaca steak in a ten soles (that’s about two pound fifty) restaurant down Gringo Alley. It tastes pretty indistinguishable from beef, and for all I know it was! I’ll have to try again. Anyway, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.

Boarding the bus itself was a bit of an experience. After I checked my luggage in, I went through the door where my passport and ticket were checked. I then had to put my bag on a desk outside as one man rummaged through it and another filmed it on a small digicam. This rather perplexing level of surveillance continued after I’d found my seat upstairs – right at the front so I could see out of the window – when a man stood at the end of the bus and filmed everyone in the face for a few seconds, then continued down the bus. By now the bus was full, and as I opted to save four pounds and sit with the cattle upstairs, I was surrounded by Peruvians rather than other tourists. I think the word for foreigner is ‘gringo’ in Castellano, which, incidentally is what the Spanish language is known as in Latin America, but it doesn’t seem to be in as wide use as the word ‘gaijin’ was back in Japan. Maybe it’s more offensive?

Either way, I was glad to be surrounded by locals as it gave me a chance to practice my Castellano. Armed with my phrasebook and a very good dictionary on my phone, I was able to make a little small talk with the lady next to me; who I am, where I’m from. When the man was filming us at the beginning, I asked her “¿Por qué?”, which means ‘why’, and she said it was in case of accidents. There was an old Peruvian couple sat across from us, and the man imitated a man holding a very large gun!   I presume the filming was either to account for all the passengers and identify them in case of an incident, or as proof of who was on the bus in case one of the passengers tries to rob it.  Either way, I was quite thrown off as I thought coming all the way to Peru might give me a bit of a break from being filmed by big brother.  I guess it’s starting to take hold out here as well.

The bus left Lima surprisingly promptly at 5:30 PM, and we were on our way on the long road to Cusco.  Whilst it was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year back home in England two days before I left, I would be arriving in Cusco on the 24th of June, the shortest day of the year in the southern hemisphere and cause for one of the biggest events in the Cusquean calendar, the festival Inti Raymi.  This would be the longest shortest day ever, though.  As we’re in the middle of Winter here, the sun was already setting as the bus departed, and as the bus drove slipped through Lima and into the night, the only light seeping in through the tinted windows from traffic outside, I soon drifted to sleep.  Although back in Lima I was lamenting about not being able to go downstairs in the VIP section, the seats upstairs still reclined nicely and I had a great view sitting at the front of the bus.  There was less room, but I’m not exactly the biggest person ever and it just meant I had to sit quite cosily with the woman next to me.  Who herself was quite big.  I was quite surprised upon arriving in Peru, for a country with over fifty percent living beneath the poverty line, a lot of people are quite fat.  After a few days here all becomes clear.  The locals are very found of dishes like chicken and chips, and show considerable shock when you opt for water rather than the local beverage Inka Cola – a very sweet soft drink a bit like Irn Bru which outsells Coke here.  As we were chatting, I told my neighbour I was studying medicine.  She told me she was diabetic; I wasn’t surprised.

Maybe because I was so tired, I slept well and didn’t really stir until about six or seven in the morning, to see the sunrise among an incredible array of mountains.  The last ten or so hours of the bus ride took us through beautiful winding valleys, and though the windows were tinted dark and in the morning obscured by a lot of condensation, they soon cleared and I had a view that was good enough to take some quite nice pictures.

The views were astounding, but it’s quite alarming, in fact, how quickly you adapt to the scenery and it loses the initial WOW factor.  My eyes kept drifting to the windows throughout the journey, and at times were completely glued to them, but some of my attention was stolen by the television at the front which was showing an interesting juxtaposition of a children’s animation about talking eggs going to the circus and a considerably violent film about a serial killer called 88 Minutes.  It was good enough to distract me from the wonderland outside but I did wonder why they were showing stuff like that on a bus with lots of small children on board.

Our sole stop on the entire 22 hour journey was at a service station at a small town called Abancay.  This was a chance for me to wander outside and stretch my legs, to try and save myself from arriving at my destination with a nasty deep vein thrombosis, and to look around at my new landscape without the dullness from the darkly tinted windows.  It was also the poo stop.  Before I got to sleep in the evening, there was the obligatory safety video detailing fire exits and such, but it then grabbed my attention as it went to the toilets and explained quite forcefully that the toilets can’t cope with you doing a No. 2.  “I repeat, the toilets are for URINATION ONLY”, spoke the pretty stewardess with a smile.  In Peru, the plumbing can’t handle toilet paper instead, so you have to stick it in a bin next to it which can become quite smelly.  Better than the contents overflowing everywhere at least.  You have to bring a loo roll with you or suffer being handed a paltry few sheets by a man outside for a few Soles. 

Anyway, enough about poo.  I finally arrived in Cusco at about four in the afternoon, and used a payphone at the bus station to call Jeremy, the co-ordinator of the volunteer operation and the guy who runs the orphanages.  He said he’d be there in about 15 minutes, so I went inside to see the Inti Raymi celebrations on a small television screen.  I had orginally hoped to make it to Cusco in time to see the festival for myself, but time did not allow it.  However, some of the other volunteers went and said it was interesting, but not the second biggest festival in South America as it is purported to be.  Jeremy soon arrived to pick me up, and I had an insightful journey to his house as he pointed out some places around town like the market and told me about himself – his English is perfect.

I had a much, much needed shower upon arrival and got myself settled in.  I’m staying at his house for the first few days of my stay as the main volunteer accommodation, above the girls orphanage, has been invaded and taken over by an army of thirty-odd American volunteers from the church, who are building a new house by the girls orphanage so that the boys can live together with them (right now their house is in another part of town), and of course, spreading the word of God.  I cringe.  Fortunately they’re all leaving on Tuesday so I can move in with the other volunteers.  Whilst I’m not a fan of the level of piety in this country, it’s easy to see why it’s here because before Peru become popular with tourists; actually quite recenty, most of the visitors to this country were missionaries.  Sadly, several ancient festivals have been tainted by Christianity here.  A bit like Christmas, they still exist but they’ve been adapted to have a bit more Jesus in them.  There’s a big Jesus statue who looks over on Cusco from a hill, he even lights up at night.

I met up with the other volunteers in the evening and joined them for some drinking card games.  I had hoped to make it into the town centre to sample its nightlife, but I didn’t have a key for Jeremy’s house then and didn’t want to set a bad impression coming knocking at the door in the early hours!  I came back with a couple who are also staying at the house, and had a rest.

The following morning I woke up to breakfast with Jeremy and Nillda, his mother, who runs the orphanages with him.  They’ve been doing it for over ten years now, and they’ve taken in quite a lot of kids from the street and given them a home.  Breakfast in Peru, and any meal for that case, comes with a lot of avocado.  It seems like the national favourite.  I’m not a fan yet, but I expect ten weeks of avocado sandwiches will convert me.  We then went in his car to the boys orphanage, which takes about ten minutes.  We drove past the giant statue of an Inca warrior king and as we went past the hill with the writing on it, he pointed out that its neighbour had a picture of Cusco’s crest ingrained into it.  There’s a llama on the left which goes quite nicely with the obsession with it here, on the right a Peruvian species of tree (I think Jeremy called it ‘Kika’), which is the source of a key ingredient in the production of Malarone, an anti-malaria drug used worldwide.  Beneath them is a cornucopia symbolising Cusco’s wealth – which these days is fuelled entirely by tourism.

Upon getting to the boys orphanage I was warmly greeted by the kids, and then Jeremy left me to it.  I was the only volunteer there, and unsure of what to do really I eventually got all the boys into the classroom and started to teach them some English.  I was struggling a bit but soon other volunteers began to arrive and helped me out.  The orphanage and the kids staying there are incredibly charming and I know I’ll find it hard to leave them when I continue on my travels.  Hopefully before then I can actually make some kind of difference and teach them some new things.

I have so much more to say, but I’ve suddenly found my appetite and also if I don’t find a toilet soon I’m going to burst.  I’ll continue the rest of my story of the last few days later.  I’ll be coming back here because the internet’s actually quite quick and outside I can hear loads of local kids noisily playing football – it’s great!

¡Hasta luego¡

Tommy