Novel Times, Novel Measures

Here I am, in Cusco, and it is amazing! What a city, and I´ve only experienced 3 hours of it so far. More to come on Cusco, but, for now, enjoy some more photos of Arequipa. Hasta luego…

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Today is my last day in Arequipa. After I finish this entry I will head back to the hostel, pack my things, pay my bill and head to the airport. Were I not en route to Cusco, I might be sad to leave this fair city. I have only begun to scratch the surface of life here, and so many activities and excursions remain. With my short timetable, I was not able to make it out of the city on any of the tours that are run to the myriad sites surrounding Arequipa. Volcanos, Alpacas (and other camelids), condors soaring over the Colca Canyon — yes, so much more to do.

During my time here, though, I was able to see quite a bit of the city, at least in and around el centro. Yesterday I hit the central market and marveled at row upon row of fruits, vegetables, spices and dry goods surrounded, of course, by ubiquitous cans and slightly heinous mystery meats. I also visited La Santa Cantalina, an active monastery that dates back to the 17th century! Much has been rebuilt due to earthquake damage and ever-changing ministerial needs, nonetheless, the architecture is simply stunning. Arches and courtyards and paintings all honoring the life and times of Jesus Christo and, I suppose, his pops. While the edifice itself was truly amazing, I found myself somewhat disinterested in the extensive collections of antique paintings housed therein. I am sure that these artists were masters of their craft, but, after a while, one picture of Christ begins to look just like another. Sorry, God.

I did have a chance to talk with my friend Crystal again. When she arrived at quarter past the hour, I was convinced that I had remember the wrong time. All my fretting was for naught however, both concerning the time and my Spanish skills. We enjoyed another pleasant conversation, this time employing the venerable tools of pen and paper to aid our communication. As it turns out, we share many of the same problems in learning the other’s language, largely due to our underdeveloped ears and the difficulty in translating idioms from one language to another. As for my burning quesitons about the innerworkings of Arequipaños, I ascertained that, for her, family is the most important aspect of her life and brings her the most joy. Crystal lives with her parents, a grandmother, three sisters and a brother and they sound like a tight-knit family. In retrospect, I realize that it will be hard to extrapolate the sentiment of a nation from such a small sample size, but at least I can glean the beginnings of life here in Arequipa.

Another highlight yesterday was witnessing my first protest in Peru. The strike, as they are known here, was comprised of about 3 dozen art students marching around the main plaza, chanting “¡Somos estudiantes, no somos ladrones!” or something to that effect. The translation, “We are students, not thieves,” was apparently directed at the president of the university. It was unclear as to why he drew the ire of the students, but I was fully supportive. I’m a sucker for a protest and, no matter what the cause, I am inspired when I see people gathering in the streets to voice their opinions. Even those damn anti-choice folks invading San Francisco the past few months.

Well, I should shove off. Just enough time to wrap this entry, read a tad more coverage of the NBA quarter-finals and then make for the Andes. In my future lies a new city, coca tea and ancient culture. Estoy listo.

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In my last entry, I completely forgot to add a link to some photos I posted of my trip so far. It took me just a bit to figure out how to do it remotely, but thanks to the wonders of FTP and web-based control panels I can share my experience with you even more directly. And who said the future wasn´t now?

One brief comment about the photos before I start my day. I mentioned that Arequipa is called the ¨White City¨and for good reason. You will notice that most of the buildings are indeed white. This is not a facade or exterior treatment of any sort. Many buildings here are built with blocks of sillar, which is a white volcanic rock mined from the volcanos that surround the city. Don´t worry, I don´t think they are active, although an active volcano much further south recently erupted, forcing some to seek refuge in Arequipa. Regardless of the potential danger, they do make for quite a beautiful city, both as building blocks and scenic vistas. And that´s what we really care about right, beauty? Safety be damned. Maybe that´s why I live in the San Francisco Bay Area.

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I´ve made it. I´m really here, in a foreign country. After a solid 12 hours of sleep, a few cafe con leches, throngs of dark-skinned folks staring at me and countless gaffes en Español, I finally feel like I am travelling abroad.

I woke up this morning in somewhat of a funk. The flight fuzz really was no joke and I´m glad I gave my body time to adjust. But upon waking today, I still felt somewhat out of sorts and had to drag myself out of bed to some caffeine and fine Peruvian pastries. This put me on the right track and set me strolling around La Plaza des Armas:

Shortly thereafter I entered the cathedral on the plaza and spent some time reflecting on my trip so far and, of all things, religion. There are few better places for the latter than churches in Latin America. Not only are they abundant, they are overly ornate, so much so that one has a hard time not contemplating the individuals so driven to create such works of art. The exquisite, rich detail — pun intended — invariably set amidst abject poverty further suggests a pathos of sorts on the part of the Catholic priests responsible. Thankfully religion is the opiate of the masses, otherwise the masses might not have stood by so sliently as one race imposed their reality on that of another. But that´s a whole story in an of itself.

After my first religious experience of the day, I had the distinct pleasure of chatting with a young Arequipaña named Crystal. She is a teacher here and is desperate to improve her english, so much so that she approached me on the street to ask if we could converse. I was delighted because I was looking for just the same opportunity to practice my Spanish. During the short time I have been in Peru, words, phrases and a level of comfort, albeit a low one, have been coming back quickly. Nonetheless, I am working to push myself to not only converse in Spanish, as it is easy to get around with English, but to also put aside my feelings of insecurity when speaking this language. Invariably, when trying to express myself En Español, I clam up and put my proverbial foot in my mouth. Chatting with Crystal, however, helped to allay some of those fears. We agreed to meet again tomorrow morning to chat more.

After such a wonderful chance encounter, I went on with my day, feeling quite at peace, soaking in the movements and motivations of Arequipa as best I could. More strolling, lunch and even more strolling revealed much, at least on the surface. While I did come across the inevitable Amercian cultural icons — Coca Cola, the Punisher, and, unfortunately, Limp Bizkit — Arequipa does not seem to be as drenched with American culture as other Latin American cities I have seen. Even the music I have heard seems mostly Spanish language and a decent mix of ethnic/folk and pop, Gloria Estefan and 50 Cent notwithstanding. What smacks of America, though, is the consumer fetish that seems to exist here. While the “white city” is painfully beautifu…

…the air reeks of diesel exhaust spewing from endless cars racing around the tiny, cobblestone streets. This is a modern city and busy internet cafes abound. The streets themselves are suprisingly clean considering the foil-warped snacks available from vendors on every corner. Even more suprising, however, are the number of cell phones and eyeglasses gracing the ears and eyes of Arequipa. The hustle and bustle seems to indicate a populace on the move, but I´m not quite sure yet where they are going. I am stricken by how similar the surface of life here appears to that back home in the States. What, exactly, motivates these well-dressed and mild-mannered people to subject themselves to urban conditions so far removed from the indigenous culture of the region? Granted there exists in South America a long lineage of European influence and genetics, but that can´t be more than half of the population here. Of course, what motivation lies behind our own American hustle and bustle?

Walking home in the cool evening light, I realized I have the perfect opportunity to unearth one set of answers to some of these questions. I´ve begun taking down some questions to pose to Crystal during our next conversatoin tomorrow. I can think of no better way to understand life here than to go right to the source. For now, though, time for a shower, some dinner and the finest cerveza Arequipa can offer.

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I´ve finally touched down in Peru and am already stunned by the rugged beauty all around. Of course, the stunned part may have something to do with the 36+ hours I have just spent in airports and airplanes, vacillating between choppy sleep and the harsh environs of air transit. The arid beauty of Arequipa is undeniable, though, and after a solid nap the lingering fuzziness of my travel ordeal has faded. Let me share the madness.

First of, I am a few hundred miles inland in Arequipa instead of along the coast as I had planned due to an on-the-fly change in my intinerary. Landing in Lima at 2:30AM, nearly 6 hours behind a schedule that was already missing a day made me rethink my original plans. It all started harmlessly enough when the first leg of my trip from Oakland to Miami was delayed because Amerian took the original plane scheduled for my flight out of service. Since I had a mere 12 hours to kill in Miami, this was almost favorable for, as I came to find out, the current state of Miami International is anything but flyer-friendly. With a trifling 11 hours instead and lacking some much-needed sleep from the previous night (another story for another time), I roamed from terminal to terminal in search of a horizontal space, preferrably padded, upon which to lay my frame. Endless hallways of construction stretched ahead of my fruitless search — every single seat in that entire airport has arms which don´t allow for any kind of horizontal comfort. How´s that for incorporating the human element into our built environment? Eventually I settled for the floor and awoke suprisingly refreshed. I would need every bit of that refreshment for the continuing flight fiasco.

Shortly before my next leg from Miami to Lima was to board, a gate change was announced due to another plane being taken out of service. Slowly I rose with the crowd and walked the already familiar corridors to the adjacent terminal where we boarded the new plane. Soon we would be on our way — off the plane and back to our original gate, that is. Some sort of mechanical difficulties with one of the doors grounded that plane as well, the third on only two legs of my flight! I´m no expert on baseball, but with that record I think I´m batting 1500. Suffice to say, after seemingly interminable delays, we were in the air and headed to Lima, although I suspect we may have been put back on the first grounded plane. At this point I was somewhat worried, though, as our ETA was pushed back much much later in the night than I felt safe arriving alone in a city like Lima.

After some soul-searching and guidebook-flipping, I opted to skip the coastal jaunt I had originally planned and head straight inland. Since I was already at the airport and not prepared to look for lodging at 2:00AM in Lima I figured it would be just as easy, not to mention safer, to catch a flight to Arequipa. Of course this entailed waiting until 4:00AM when ticket sales opened, and then waiting some more for the earliest available flight at 7:00AM. More fitful vertical sleep ensued, followed by a suprisingly restful but very disorienting horizontal nap that nearly caused me to miss my flight. But the airline gods were not to thwart me any more that day and shortly thereafter I found my self on the tarmac in Arequippa, surrounded by the majestic, snow-capped volcanic cones that circle the city. And so, three flights, nearly twice as many planes and in desperate need of shower, sleep and non-airport surroundings, I had arrived in Peru.

I´m feeling great now, although most of my first day has been willingly surrended to recuperation. Shortly I will have some dinner, hopefully some traditional Peruvian fare, and decide upon my plans for the next few days here. As I mentioned, my itinerary has changed so that I will be spending about a third of my time here in Arequipa and two thirds high up in the Andes in Cusco and Machu Picchu. I´m sad to forgoe the coast on this trip, but after the flight fiasco I just endured, I´m not interested in spending much of my short time in harried transit. I´ll post an updated itinerary shortly, along with some obsevations of the people and place. After shaking off the flight fuzz, I´m still taking it all in.

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