“He’s a shmuck.”
Shmuck is definitely the most common word to come out of my tio Wieland’s mouth. I can understand why since it is kind of fun to say and easy to use without being that offensive. We drive around Lima and weave through the microbus congestion, notice in disbelief when a mototaxi insists on driving in the breakdown lane of the Pan-American Highway or when people cross the highway on foot, leaping into the median ditch and waiting for trucks heavy with produce/chickens/whatever to pass, when only a few yards away is a pedestrian bridge over the highway. Each one of these frequent events beg for “that guy is a shmuck.”
“Look at that shmuck.” Wieland says, drawing the sounds of s, h and m out and then closing with a deliberate –ck sound.
Wieland was nice enough to not use “shmuck” on me a few days ago when I waited anxiously for the Continental website to show a status of “In Flight” for Doug’s flight from Boston. I had panicked (a little…ok maybe a lot…sorry to everyone that had to follow the mushiness on Facebook) when it looked like the snow in Boston could cause delays or even cancellations. Doug was only coming for a week as it was, it had been 15 days since I had last seen him and frankly, I didn’t want to wait any longer. Much to everyone’s relief, Doug was more or less on schedule with both his flights and so, as planned, I hopped in a taxi from Wieland’s house around 10:30 to make the 1/2 hour trek to the airport to meet him.
As I was hopping in to take the taxi, Wieland asked the driver what route he was planning on taking. The driver was obviously flexible and when Wieland suggested the Costa Verde (a road that runs along the water...kind of like Storrow Drive in Boston), the driver shrugged an affirmative.
I was yawning for most of the beginning of the ride but then began realizing that my driver was not owning the roads like a typical Limeño maniac. The typical driver here maneuvers aggressively, weaving around slow, cautious drivers so as to efficiently make his or her way from Point A to Point B. My driver, on the other hand, was driving slowly, too cautiously and every so often, very subtly drifting over the median line.
Something was obviously wrong.
I was in the right back seat, opposite the driver, and thus, found myself leaning left towards center so I could watch the road. I glanced at the driver’s face, wracking my brain back to the moment I climbed in the car. I hadn’t smelled any alcohol on him and if I hadn’t, Wieland certainly would have. Was he drunk? I don’t think so. A car came up behind us, flashing his lights to say “move over!” so he could pass. My driver didn’t move over and the car behind us sped past in the right lane. I watched my driver’s eyes blinking rapidly and then slowly closed, only to snap back open. My driver was falling asleep at the wheel!
You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. How could it be that in a country that lives for doing everything 2-3 hours behind American schedule (dinner is at 8 or 9, nightlife starts no earlier than midnight, etc.), I had a driver that at 10:40PM on a Friday night was freaking falling asleep at the wheel?!
I kept watching him and the road, torn between my options. I could (a) anxiously keep monitoring the road and scream if I saw him drift dangerously far into the wrong lane, (b) call Wieland (but what would he do) or (c) ask him if he was ok and maybe even see whether he needed to stop for a coffee.
At this point we were in a not so nice part of San Miguel and I didn’t really feel like stopping for coffee. I opted for (a), hoping that he would spring back to life and everything would be fine. Maybe I should start having a conversation with him? When I’m tired, it helps to blast loud music, have the window down, talk to people… This dude was flipping radio stations every once in a while but none of the music was really upbeat. Peruvian ballads? WTF. That’s not going to keep you awake!
I watched one last drift on the road and then gently touched his shoulder. “Estás bien? Parece que estás tratando de dormir.” (Translation: Are you ok? It looks like you’re trying to sleep)
Not surprisingly, he sat up straight and said “No, no, estoy bien.” I kept watching him and was relieved when he picked up some speed and started driving like a normal Lima driver again. Maybe he was embarrassed, but if that’s what it took to get back on track, that is probably better for both of us.
The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful. My driver and I exchanged some words intermittently (e.g. What time does your visitor get in? What airline? When I told him the airline, he looked it up on his phone while driving…no big deal). Finally, we got to the airport and he told me to go ahead and hop out while he parked the car. Fine with me.
So much anticipation! I practically sprinted towards the international arrival terminal, waiting outside for a little bit until I realized that visitors are indeed allowed to go inside and wait for their loved ones. About 30 seconds later (talk about timing), I saw Doug walking out of the baggage claim area. He quickly spotted me and with a huge smile on his face, walked over.
The End.
Just kidding.
The rest of that night is pretty boring. We took an uneventful car ride back to Wieland’s house in Miraflores. Doug and Wieland met for the first time and one of the first comments Wieland had was “you’re taller than I thought you would be.”
The three of us chatted on the way down to Lagunas and at 1AM we pulled into to Lagunas, he met my tia Lucia and Camila and we passed out.
It is now Tuesday, January 25, 2011 and Doug has been here for 3 whole days now. We spent the weekend at Lagunas, enjoying the beach, sun and the Wielandino’s lovely house. He has seen Asia (the shopping center near Lagunas), eaten amazing food prepared in house and at Granja Azul (pollo a la brasa…mmm) and is getting along beautifully with everyone (not that I expected any differently). I won’t go into too much detail since it will be more fun to tell stories in person to those that want to know and that way, I don’t steal Doug’s thunder about his first trip to Peru. :)
We are heading back to Lima today and will be on a more touristy itinerary the rest of the trip with plans to visit to some of Lima’s historic and other awesome hotspots.
We have been watching the weather in Boston and it sounds terribly cold. So glad we are here in the warmth instead for a few more days.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Back in Lima!
“Donde está tu flaco?”
I’ve been getting that question a lot since I’ve arrived in Lima. The literal translation of “flaco” is skinny but what my family was actually referring to was Doug. Not because he’s skinny, but because that’s slang for boyfriend/girlfriend. I suppose they use it since the alternative is enamorado, which is a mouthful.
I’m super excited to be in Lima again. I can walk to cafes, people watch, go running, etc. I know the areas where I’m staying better and feel safe walking around on my own. Independence is good.
Our last day in Colán was bittersweet. Lucho showed me photos of the irrigation system they were just starting to put in at the fundo (his farm). I learned that the fundo is named Maria Cortés after my great-grandmother. That day, the day of my birthday, they were laying down cement and installing the pipes that would make up the heart of the irrigation system. Then after that segment was finished, they baptized it and named it Vanessa since it was put in on my birthday. I thought that was super cool and was actually quite touched to have my name etched in cement on a parcel of land my uncle has been working very hard to revive. Around sunset, we did a caravan of dirt bikes and ATVs to the church in Colán, the first church constructed in South America, but unfortunately it wasn’t open that afternoon. Later on back at the house, we drank wine and cut cake to celebrate my 27 years. Ursula had asked in the morning what kind of cake to pick up because she would be in Piura. I asked for something with fruit, something I couldn’t get up there. She ended up picking up a delicious cake with cherimoya. Mmmm! After singing me happy birthday and staying up talking, we said our good-byes to that side of the family. Our flights were in the morning and we would have to leave early to get to Piura to check in.
Over the weekend, we spent a few days at Lucho’s place in the San Isidro part of Lima. We enjoyed lunch at La Baguette and Dad and I went walking around to re-acclimate ourselves to the area (more me than him since he had already done that his first week here). Tia Rocio came over later that afternoon with some of my cousins and we went a whole group of us went to chifa that night at Kan Men in Miraflores (another district of Lima). Chifa is the term used to describe Peruvian Chinese food and it more or less tastes the same as good Chinese food from home.
I went running the next morning and intentionally got lost so I could discover some other parts. I spent most of the rest of the day dipping in and out of the house for coffees, reading and playing with the my other cousin Rodrigo’s dog, Gastón. He slept with me both nights that I was there since I was sleeping in Rodrigo’s room and it was nice to have some company.
El Chino was in town with Jenny so they came over Saturday evening and we laid out some piqueos to munch on. They stayed until 1AM or so and then I helped Mom clean up some of the dishes. We got up 3.5 hours later to say bye to Alyssa and Travis who were taking a taxi to the airport.
We hit the road to Lagunas around 9AM Sunday morning and an hour later we were pulling into Wieland’s house. I was so excited to see the other Kafka family and gave Wieland, Lucia, Camila and Norma (their maid at the beach house) big hugs as soon as we got in. Since much of life at Wieland’s revolves around delicious food, I will most likely spend the remainder of my trip writing about what I ate. Yesterday was arroz con pollo for lunch and then homemade pizza for dinner. Norma had also made a lovely cake with jello, vanilla batter and peaches. I stayed up with Wieland and Lucia for an extra hour catching up while Mom and Dad went to sleep.
I slept like a log last night but against my wishes, my body woke me up around 5:30. I checked my email to see if Doug had written with news of Alyssa and Travis getting home safely. They did and were home around 2AM in CT much to Sappa’s pleasure.
I already laid out in the beach for a few hours with the family and went into the water for some refreshing wave jumping. The current is strong here so it’s not safe to swim, but you can go in and wash off the heat and that still feels wonderful.
We had steak with potatoes, rice and salad for lunch. Delicious. It’s a little cloudy this afternoon and very windy so I’ll probably just stretch out on the hammock and road.
A little more than a week down and Doug arrives Friday. Everyone keeps giving me ideas on where to take him and I already know there won’t be enough time to do everything. That’s not necessarily a bad problem to have though.
I’m continuing my music “war” with Wieland. It’s fun to hear what he’s listening to lately and trade new music recommendations.
I’ve been getting that question a lot since I’ve arrived in Lima. The literal translation of “flaco” is skinny but what my family was actually referring to was Doug. Not because he’s skinny, but because that’s slang for boyfriend/girlfriend. I suppose they use it since the alternative is enamorado, which is a mouthful.
I’m super excited to be in Lima again. I can walk to cafes, people watch, go running, etc. I know the areas where I’m staying better and feel safe walking around on my own. Independence is good.
Our last day in Colán was bittersweet. Lucho showed me photos of the irrigation system they were just starting to put in at the fundo (his farm). I learned that the fundo is named Maria Cortés after my great-grandmother. That day, the day of my birthday, they were laying down cement and installing the pipes that would make up the heart of the irrigation system. Then after that segment was finished, they baptized it and named it Vanessa since it was put in on my birthday. I thought that was super cool and was actually quite touched to have my name etched in cement on a parcel of land my uncle has been working very hard to revive. Around sunset, we did a caravan of dirt bikes and ATVs to the church in Colán, the first church constructed in South America, but unfortunately it wasn’t open that afternoon. Later on back at the house, we drank wine and cut cake to celebrate my 27 years. Ursula had asked in the morning what kind of cake to pick up because she would be in Piura. I asked for something with fruit, something I couldn’t get up there. She ended up picking up a delicious cake with cherimoya. Mmmm! After singing me happy birthday and staying up talking, we said our good-byes to that side of the family. Our flights were in the morning and we would have to leave early to get to Piura to check in.
Over the weekend, we spent a few days at Lucho’s place in the San Isidro part of Lima. We enjoyed lunch at La Baguette and Dad and I went walking around to re-acclimate ourselves to the area (more me than him since he had already done that his first week here). Tia Rocio came over later that afternoon with some of my cousins and we went a whole group of us went to chifa that night at Kan Men in Miraflores (another district of Lima). Chifa is the term used to describe Peruvian Chinese food and it more or less tastes the same as good Chinese food from home.
I went running the next morning and intentionally got lost so I could discover some other parts. I spent most of the rest of the day dipping in and out of the house for coffees, reading and playing with the my other cousin Rodrigo’s dog, Gastón. He slept with me both nights that I was there since I was sleeping in Rodrigo’s room and it was nice to have some company.
El Chino was in town with Jenny so they came over Saturday evening and we laid out some piqueos to munch on. They stayed until 1AM or so and then I helped Mom clean up some of the dishes. We got up 3.5 hours later to say bye to Alyssa and Travis who were taking a taxi to the airport.
We hit the road to Lagunas around 9AM Sunday morning and an hour later we were pulling into Wieland’s house. I was so excited to see the other Kafka family and gave Wieland, Lucia, Camila and Norma (their maid at the beach house) big hugs as soon as we got in. Since much of life at Wieland’s revolves around delicious food, I will most likely spend the remainder of my trip writing about what I ate. Yesterday was arroz con pollo for lunch and then homemade pizza for dinner. Norma had also made a lovely cake with jello, vanilla batter and peaches. I stayed up with Wieland and Lucia for an extra hour catching up while Mom and Dad went to sleep.
I slept like a log last night but against my wishes, my body woke me up around 5:30. I checked my email to see if Doug had written with news of Alyssa and Travis getting home safely. They did and were home around 2AM in CT much to Sappa’s pleasure.
I already laid out in the beach for a few hours with the family and went into the water for some refreshing wave jumping. The current is strong here so it’s not safe to swim, but you can go in and wash off the heat and that still feels wonderful.
We had steak with potatoes, rice and salad for lunch. Delicious. It’s a little cloudy this afternoon and very windy so I’ll probably just stretch out on the hammock and road.
A little more than a week down and Doug arrives Friday. Everyone keeps giving me ideas on where to take him and I already know there won’t be enough time to do everything. That’s not necessarily a bad problem to have though.
I’m continuing my music “war” with Wieland. It’s fun to hear what he’s listening to lately and trade new music recommendations.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
A lesson in Peruvian cursing
January 11, 2011
For better or worse, cursing in my family has never really been a big deal. I remember on one visit to Peru, Tio Lucho would bark offending words out the window, maniacally swerving past cars in his old Volkswagen. He used to come in that car to pick us and our luggage up from the airport. I think most of the time I was one of two people in someone’s lap.
Anyway, one of my most vivid memories from childhood is when I went on a ride with Lucho and he got so mad at one driver that cut him off that he stuck a cupped hand out the window, shook it in the air and shouted “huevón!” at the top of his lungs.
Back in the U.S., I rode the school bus and in my efforts to be “cool”, I would teach my friends curse words in Spanish. Consequently, every trip to Peru was an opportunity to pick up new vocabulary. Hearing this new word, huevón, was very interesting. I was fascinated by the way in which he had delivered it too. Up until then, I only knew carajo (damn/dammit) and mierda (s__t)* and those were just shouted with emphasis on the middle syllable if you really wanted to make a point.
I don’t remember repeating the word on that trip but I definitely taught it to the other kids on the bus. When they asked me what it meant, I realized I didn’t know. “I think it means a__hole” I said, making sure that the curse word rolled off my tongue easily.
I went on living life like that for a while, thinking that huevón meant a-hole until I finally asked my parents. Dad laughed when I asked. With a gleam in his eye and a cupped hand in the air, he answered my question. “Huevón means big balls.”
I don’t know if I blushed or not, but I was probably pretty embarrassed when I found out its true meaning. Looking back on it now, I don’t know why it would have since one associated body part is not that far away from the other.
This is a long and only mildly relevant introduction to what I actually did today so I will attempt to get to the point.
We were on the road to Mancora by 6:15AM and got to watch some of the sunrise over the strangely flat desert on the way. As we were leaving, the car alarm would honk once, as if it was protesting about being woken up to early in the morning. Each honk would prompt a carajo out of Lucho and each time I would laugh like a little kid still giddy about curse words.
About 45 minutes in, we made a stop for gas in Sullana and then continued. The landscape is very dry here right now since Peru is being affected by the La Niña cycle. Lucho said that there hasn’t been rain in months and the ocean water is cold. The route itself is kind of strange and is completely dictated by where there is currently a functional road and not by where there should be a road. I suppose that speaks for most routes in most countries, but this diversion is particularly time consuming because of the lack of alternative. To travel to Mancora from Colán, we actually have to travel inland first for 45 minutes or so and then continue north, climbing through these big and strangely beautiful mountains that look like they are made of sand but are in fact made of clay. Then you go back down again and you’re pretty much there. The topography itself shows the millions of years of history between water and land and even recent natural disasters have left lasting marks. In the late 90s, El Niño brought heavy rains for months and essentially created rivers where they hadn’t been any for years and years. You can still see where roads were washed away and rebuilt a few yards over on more solid ground and where bridges were built where plain old road would no longer suffice. But it’s all dry now and the algorobina trees and other native plants look sad for lack of water. Lucho and Jose say they are expecting rain in the next month or so and as soon as that happens, it will be green everywhere again.
Our drive did take us into a very fertile area which looked like paradise in comparison to the rest of the surroundings. Piura has some amazing farmland and a great deal of closely monitored organic product is grown and exported from this area. The Chira River (el rio Chira) flows through a big valley, right next to Sullana which sits on top of a hill, and the valley covers several hundred acres of land. The locals here created a reservoir, Poechos, sourced by the Chira, and use the reservoir for irrigation systems that flow to the various parcels of land. On the road we saw banana trees, mango trees, sugar cane and lots of other healthy vegetation.
Most of the route is on the PanAmerican Highway, so we had to go through a toll in Talara (a pueblo along the highway). We paid the 7.50 (in soles) and then just as we were leaving the toll booth we saw a group of people in orange traffic vests with clipboards. One gestured that we pull over so Lucho made a quick stop as she rushed over to the driver’s side window. I don’t know the exact translation, but she essentially requested license and registration. My uncle, familiar with the Peruvian bureaucratic system and impatient as ever to get to Mancora asked, “Is this going to take long?” The woman raised her eyes up from the clipboard. “Si me das una propina, pueden irse.” Lucho handed her two soles and off we went.
“Did that just happen?” I asked, stunned. Whatever it is she was hired to do with the clipboard was obviously not particularly important since a 2 soles tip (which is barely $1 in U.S. currency) was enough for her to let us off the hook. I knew that the system here worked like that, but I had never really seen it in action…at least not recently. Even my parents were shaking their heads in disbelief, but we were all laughing. Just one of those things, I suppose. Us Americans don’t always appreciate how comparatively non-corrupt our systems are.
After Talara, we passed Cabo Blanco, the fishing town where Ernest Hemingway wrote one of his books, and then started on the winding road into the mountains. At this point, it’s natural to think that you’ll come right back down but when we hit the top, it ended up being a big plateau. It wasn’t long until we were descending into the Los Organos though, one of the many pueblos before Mancora. Los Organos (The Organs) got its name because apparently when the wind picks up, it sounds like an organ. It looks like a town that once had a significant population of people. There are lots of houses that at one point must have been lovely and there is even a pretty malecón (boardwalk) along the water. The boardwalk had lots of graffiti and, aside from some lazy looking people milling about, appeared to be void of activity. The streets were still in great condition though and the center of town was bustling.
Past Los Organos we went through a couple other smaller, poorer towns, made another ascent up to a second plateau and then quickly came down again into Mancora. Thankfully Lucho knew his way around the area while greatly helped our cause to find breakfast. We made a sharp left turn towards the hotel area and trudged along a dirt road with barely enough room for two cars. To our left on a hill/cliff were some more houses under construction and to our right, a drop down to beach and ocean. Having heard the stories of the El Niño floods the entire ride, my first impression was that someone made a big mistake building in an area that appears susceptible to landslides. We made our first stop at Casa de Playa, a hotel my tio Wieland (Dad’s brother) frequents. At that point it was easy to see the appeal of Mancora. We walked through a doorway leading down to a restaurant and my eyes fell on the beautiful ocean in the background. Palm trees and gardens were thoughtfully planted and there was a leisurely air about the place. My family has been raving about Mancora for years now and despite the long trek to get there, I was glad we came to explore.
After a “light” breakfast (eggs with ham and cheese…mmm) we went to the shopping area of Mancora. The heat at that point was totally oppressive and I kept looking for opportunities to cool off in the shade. I was also riddled with mosquito bites from the past couple days in Colán and couldn’t stop itching. I wandered around for a bit with my parents and then eventually went with each of them on a hunt for anti-itch stuff. I was praying I would find something like the Benadryl anti-itch spray that I have at home...that stuff is amazing. Dad ended up finding a gel that does the job so I slathered that and anti-infection cream all over my legs. More interesting purchases included a great sun hat that I could wear to the Kentucky Derby. I also found a pretty long necklace made with beads and shells and a pair of earrings.
The rest of the afternoon was spent at another local hotel that Lucho likes. Las Pocitas had the same ambiance as Casa de Playa but with a seemingly more luxurious feel. I felt like quite the dame in my new hat, bright orange pareo and swim suit. Mom and Lucho went for a long walk on the beach while the rest of us hung out and read by the pool. The hotel had wi-fi and Dad had brought his Mac Airbook along so we popped that open and had a go-round of email checking. I sent Doug a hello text through Google Voice and he ultimately responded back with “Snow Day tomorrow!” Apparently it was going to snow a lot in Boston.
We had a late lunch (I ordered palta relleno – stuffed avocado) and finished the meal with a delicious dessert of panqueque de manjar blanco. Anyone who has eaten my Mom’s alfajores (the cookies with the caramel-like substance in the middle topped with brown sugar) – just imagine that caramelized condensed milk in a pancake instead of cookies…and drizzled with chocolate on top. Yum.
Before it was time to head back to Colán, I went for a walk with Dad down the beach to see las casas de lujo and picked up a few keepsake shells along the way.
The car ride back was the same route we had taken to get to Mancora in the first place, so there was really nothing new to see. Lucho drove like a maniac though, scaring even my parents a bit who are used to the Lima-style of driving. We even got pulled over by a police officer (sort of – they were stopping a bunch of cars to do spot checks…not sure why) and the police officer’s first comment was “mucho velocidad, Señor.” Lucho replied, a little too smartly, with something akin to “If I had been going that fast, I wouldn’t have been able to stop as quickly as you wanted me to.” Another thing that’s different from the U.S…here in Peru people sass the hell out of police officers, or any government officials, until they become too exasperated to continue with you anymore (that’s not entirely true, but the sassing definitely happens, as evidenced by my dear uncle).
*I don’t know how many minors are reading this blog since everyone is now connected to the World Wide Web…so I’ll spare myself backlash from parents and leave the rest of the letters to your experienced imagination.
January 12, 2011
Today was one of our last lazy days here. I woke up early (again) and used the time to read and check email before the sun was higher. My Mom wasn’t feeling well…something she ate yesterday at Las Pocitas was not sitting well with her so she spent most of the morning nursing that. Travis and Alyssa did a couple of quadrimoto rides, including one with Ursula and Jose to these big sand dunes north of here. Dad and I took a long ride toward a beach north of here that was beautiful but sort of scary too. It just felt so desolate and even the ride over made you feel like you were alone in the world. But it was peaceful at the same time. What a mixed bag of feelings it can generate. What made me most sad though of all was seeing rotting corpses of dolphins, sea lions and fish…seriously. For some reason, these animals had washed up on shore and had been unsuccessful in their attempts to get in...or there was some kind of chemical in the water that had killed them. It was so sad to see then wasting away like that. The smell certainly wasn’t pleasant either. It was nice to venture around with Dad though and near the end of our trip we stumbled upon 5 flamingoes just chillin’ in the little lakes near the end of the populated area. I’ve never seen flamingoes in the wild and I was taken aback by how majestic they were….and how out of place they seemed. Pink birds in the middle of the desert. Weird.
As the afternoon was coming to a close we got news of the snow on the ground in the Northeast. Holy moly 2 feet of snow! My little red Kia is currently a snow bank (that is unless a really nice someone dug it out for me…)
We wrapped up the day at Colán Lodge for dinner, another nice hotel complex near the new part of Colán. I had a hankering for lomo saltado. It was good, but not as good as tio Wieland’s.
We got back from that a little while ago, I have slathered anti-itch on myself and I’m passing out.
January 13, 2011
Hooray 27.
Last day in Colán. The Kafka family (and Travis) heads back to Lima tomorrow morning for the weekend and then Alyssa and Travis leave for the States early morning Sunday. Crazy!
Reading and enjoying the sun. Nos vemos esta fin de semana! Thanks to all of you that have sent emails and Facebook messages for my birthday. :)
For better or worse, cursing in my family has never really been a big deal. I remember on one visit to Peru, Tio Lucho would bark offending words out the window, maniacally swerving past cars in his old Volkswagen. He used to come in that car to pick us and our luggage up from the airport. I think most of the time I was one of two people in someone’s lap.
Anyway, one of my most vivid memories from childhood is when I went on a ride with Lucho and he got so mad at one driver that cut him off that he stuck a cupped hand out the window, shook it in the air and shouted “huevón!” at the top of his lungs.
Back in the U.S., I rode the school bus and in my efforts to be “cool”, I would teach my friends curse words in Spanish. Consequently, every trip to Peru was an opportunity to pick up new vocabulary. Hearing this new word, huevón, was very interesting. I was fascinated by the way in which he had delivered it too. Up until then, I only knew carajo (damn/dammit) and mierda (s__t)* and those were just shouted with emphasis on the middle syllable if you really wanted to make a point.
I don’t remember repeating the word on that trip but I definitely taught it to the other kids on the bus. When they asked me what it meant, I realized I didn’t know. “I think it means a__hole” I said, making sure that the curse word rolled off my tongue easily.
I went on living life like that for a while, thinking that huevón meant a-hole until I finally asked my parents. Dad laughed when I asked. With a gleam in his eye and a cupped hand in the air, he answered my question. “Huevón means big balls.”
I don’t know if I blushed or not, but I was probably pretty embarrassed when I found out its true meaning. Looking back on it now, I don’t know why it would have since one associated body part is not that far away from the other.
This is a long and only mildly relevant introduction to what I actually did today so I will attempt to get to the point.
We were on the road to Mancora by 6:15AM and got to watch some of the sunrise over the strangely flat desert on the way. As we were leaving, the car alarm would honk once, as if it was protesting about being woken up to early in the morning. Each honk would prompt a carajo out of Lucho and each time I would laugh like a little kid still giddy about curse words.
About 45 minutes in, we made a stop for gas in Sullana and then continued. The landscape is very dry here right now since Peru is being affected by the La Niña cycle. Lucho said that there hasn’t been rain in months and the ocean water is cold. The route itself is kind of strange and is completely dictated by where there is currently a functional road and not by where there should be a road. I suppose that speaks for most routes in most countries, but this diversion is particularly time consuming because of the lack of alternative. To travel to Mancora from Colán, we actually have to travel inland first for 45 minutes or so and then continue north, climbing through these big and strangely beautiful mountains that look like they are made of sand but are in fact made of clay. Then you go back down again and you’re pretty much there. The topography itself shows the millions of years of history between water and land and even recent natural disasters have left lasting marks. In the late 90s, El Niño brought heavy rains for months and essentially created rivers where they hadn’t been any for years and years. You can still see where roads were washed away and rebuilt a few yards over on more solid ground and where bridges were built where plain old road would no longer suffice. But it’s all dry now and the algorobina trees and other native plants look sad for lack of water. Lucho and Jose say they are expecting rain in the next month or so and as soon as that happens, it will be green everywhere again.
Our drive did take us into a very fertile area which looked like paradise in comparison to the rest of the surroundings. Piura has some amazing farmland and a great deal of closely monitored organic product is grown and exported from this area. The Chira River (el rio Chira) flows through a big valley, right next to Sullana which sits on top of a hill, and the valley covers several hundred acres of land. The locals here created a reservoir, Poechos, sourced by the Chira, and use the reservoir for irrigation systems that flow to the various parcels of land. On the road we saw banana trees, mango trees, sugar cane and lots of other healthy vegetation.
Most of the route is on the PanAmerican Highway, so we had to go through a toll in Talara (a pueblo along the highway). We paid the 7.50 (in soles) and then just as we were leaving the toll booth we saw a group of people in orange traffic vests with clipboards. One gestured that we pull over so Lucho made a quick stop as she rushed over to the driver’s side window. I don’t know the exact translation, but she essentially requested license and registration. My uncle, familiar with the Peruvian bureaucratic system and impatient as ever to get to Mancora asked, “Is this going to take long?” The woman raised her eyes up from the clipboard. “Si me das una propina, pueden irse.” Lucho handed her two soles and off we went.
“Did that just happen?” I asked, stunned. Whatever it is she was hired to do with the clipboard was obviously not particularly important since a 2 soles tip (which is barely $1 in U.S. currency) was enough for her to let us off the hook. I knew that the system here worked like that, but I had never really seen it in action…at least not recently. Even my parents were shaking their heads in disbelief, but we were all laughing. Just one of those things, I suppose. Us Americans don’t always appreciate how comparatively non-corrupt our systems are.
After Talara, we passed Cabo Blanco, the fishing town where Ernest Hemingway wrote one of his books, and then started on the winding road into the mountains. At this point, it’s natural to think that you’ll come right back down but when we hit the top, it ended up being a big plateau. It wasn’t long until we were descending into the Los Organos though, one of the many pueblos before Mancora. Los Organos (The Organs) got its name because apparently when the wind picks up, it sounds like an organ. It looks like a town that once had a significant population of people. There are lots of houses that at one point must have been lovely and there is even a pretty malecón (boardwalk) along the water. The boardwalk had lots of graffiti and, aside from some lazy looking people milling about, appeared to be void of activity. The streets were still in great condition though and the center of town was bustling.
Past Los Organos we went through a couple other smaller, poorer towns, made another ascent up to a second plateau and then quickly came down again into Mancora. Thankfully Lucho knew his way around the area while greatly helped our cause to find breakfast. We made a sharp left turn towards the hotel area and trudged along a dirt road with barely enough room for two cars. To our left on a hill/cliff were some more houses under construction and to our right, a drop down to beach and ocean. Having heard the stories of the El Niño floods the entire ride, my first impression was that someone made a big mistake building in an area that appears susceptible to landslides. We made our first stop at Casa de Playa, a hotel my tio Wieland (Dad’s brother) frequents. At that point it was easy to see the appeal of Mancora. We walked through a doorway leading down to a restaurant and my eyes fell on the beautiful ocean in the background. Palm trees and gardens were thoughtfully planted and there was a leisurely air about the place. My family has been raving about Mancora for years now and despite the long trek to get there, I was glad we came to explore.
After a “light” breakfast (eggs with ham and cheese…mmm) we went to the shopping area of Mancora. The heat at that point was totally oppressive and I kept looking for opportunities to cool off in the shade. I was also riddled with mosquito bites from the past couple days in Colán and couldn’t stop itching. I wandered around for a bit with my parents and then eventually went with each of them on a hunt for anti-itch stuff. I was praying I would find something like the Benadryl anti-itch spray that I have at home...that stuff is amazing. Dad ended up finding a gel that does the job so I slathered that and anti-infection cream all over my legs. More interesting purchases included a great sun hat that I could wear to the Kentucky Derby. I also found a pretty long necklace made with beads and shells and a pair of earrings.
The rest of the afternoon was spent at another local hotel that Lucho likes. Las Pocitas had the same ambiance as Casa de Playa but with a seemingly more luxurious feel. I felt like quite the dame in my new hat, bright orange pareo and swim suit. Mom and Lucho went for a long walk on the beach while the rest of us hung out and read by the pool. The hotel had wi-fi and Dad had brought his Mac Airbook along so we popped that open and had a go-round of email checking. I sent Doug a hello text through Google Voice and he ultimately responded back with “Snow Day tomorrow!” Apparently it was going to snow a lot in Boston.We had a late lunch (I ordered palta relleno – stuffed avocado) and finished the meal with a delicious dessert of panqueque de manjar blanco. Anyone who has eaten my Mom’s alfajores (the cookies with the caramel-like substance in the middle topped with brown sugar) – just imagine that caramelized condensed milk in a pancake instead of cookies…and drizzled with chocolate on top. Yum.
Before it was time to head back to Colán, I went for a walk with Dad down the beach to see las casas de lujo and picked up a few keepsake shells along the way.
The car ride back was the same route we had taken to get to Mancora in the first place, so there was really nothing new to see. Lucho drove like a maniac though, scaring even my parents a bit who are used to the Lima-style of driving. We even got pulled over by a police officer (sort of – they were stopping a bunch of cars to do spot checks…not sure why) and the police officer’s first comment was “mucho velocidad, Señor.” Lucho replied, a little too smartly, with something akin to “If I had been going that fast, I wouldn’t have been able to stop as quickly as you wanted me to.” Another thing that’s different from the U.S…here in Peru people sass the hell out of police officers, or any government officials, until they become too exasperated to continue with you anymore (that’s not entirely true, but the sassing definitely happens, as evidenced by my dear uncle).
*I don’t know how many minors are reading this blog since everyone is now connected to the World Wide Web…so I’ll spare myself backlash from parents and leave the rest of the letters to your experienced imagination.
January 12, 2011
Today was one of our last lazy days here. I woke up early (again) and used the time to read and check email before the sun was higher. My Mom wasn’t feeling well…something she ate yesterday at Las Pocitas was not sitting well with her so she spent most of the morning nursing that. Travis and Alyssa did a couple of quadrimoto rides, including one with Ursula and Jose to these big sand dunes north of here. Dad and I took a long ride toward a beach north of here that was beautiful but sort of scary too. It just felt so desolate and even the ride over made you feel like you were alone in the world. But it was peaceful at the same time. What a mixed bag of feelings it can generate. What made me most sad though of all was seeing rotting corpses of dolphins, sea lions and fish…seriously. For some reason, these animals had washed up on shore and had been unsuccessful in their attempts to get in...or there was some kind of chemical in the water that had killed them. It was so sad to see then wasting away like that. The smell certainly wasn’t pleasant either. It was nice to venture around with Dad though and near the end of our trip we stumbled upon 5 flamingoes just chillin’ in the little lakes near the end of the populated area. I’ve never seen flamingoes in the wild and I was taken aback by how majestic they were….and how out of place they seemed. Pink birds in the middle of the desert. Weird.As the afternoon was coming to a close we got news of the snow on the ground in the Northeast. Holy moly 2 feet of snow! My little red Kia is currently a snow bank (that is unless a really nice someone dug it out for me…)
We wrapped up the day at Colán Lodge for dinner, another nice hotel complex near the new part of Colán. I had a hankering for lomo saltado. It was good, but not as good as tio Wieland’s.
We got back from that a little while ago, I have slathered anti-itch on myself and I’m passing out.
January 13, 2011
Hooray 27.
Last day in Colán. The Kafka family (and Travis) heads back to Lima tomorrow morning for the weekend and then Alyssa and Travis leave for the States early morning Sunday. Crazy!
Reading and enjoying the sun. Nos vemos esta fin de semana! Thanks to all of you that have sent emails and Facebook messages for my birthday. :)
Monday, January 10, 2011
January 9, 2011
“Donde esta Vanessa?”
That’s how my 6 year old cousin, Rodrigo, stormed into the house this morning with his 2 friends. My mom and dad were changing into bathing suits to go out on the jet ski for the first time and I had run into the bathroom. I heard the kids run into the house asking for me and gave a loud shout that I would be out in a minute.
Unfortunately, Rodrigo didn’t take the hint.
When I met him for the first time two days ago, it was obvious he was a character. He is the son of my tio Jose and the kid just talks…and talks…and talks. What’s funny is that he sort of has the vocabulary of an old man. I think he spent a lot of time with his grandparents the first few years of his life while his parents were at work for the day and he picked up some of their phrases and delivery techniques. For example, before his dad came home the first evening I was here, I met him, his brother (who might be the cutest kid on the planet) and Ursula, his mom. I was speaking with Ursula for a while and was admitting that I didn’t even remember Jose’s face after 15 years. In all honesty, I remembered a tan, skinny guy with a black goatee and that was about it. Rodrigo piped up then.
“You don’t remember my Dad?” He asked with a very serious tone.
“I remember him, but not his face!” I replied, laughing.
“Well, you might notice some changes…he has gained some weight.” Rodrigo clucked his tongue and then apparently felt the need to clarify further, “His body has changed.”
My jaw dropped for a second while I looked at Ursula, wanting to make sure that if a hysterical laugh slipped out I wouldn’t feel guilty for “encouraging” him. When she only rolled her eyes and snorted, I couldn’t help myself and soon enough the three of us were laughing together, Rodrigo himself obviously amused by his sincerity.
Cute kid, but don’t be fooled…sometimes he talks like an adult, but is still totally 6 years old.
As he barreled through the hallways, the leader of the pre-10 years old kid gang of Colán, I made a quick dive for the lock on the door. Five seconds later I heard the shove.
“Vanessa?”
“Un momento, ya vengo.” I said, trying to buy a couple more minutes of privacy.
“Vanessa, estas calata??”
“No, I’m not naked.” I muttered, as I finished washing my hands.
In a nutshell, that is the beauty of being surrounded by family. I love being in a little rustic house on the beach, right next door to people with my blood and down the street from even more people with my blood. But having all that family around means they’ll be in and out of the house whenever they want. And they will bring their other 6 year old friends. :)
I’m only pretending to complain. I love having family around, especially when I get to experience this so little. It’s amazing to be able to share memories with them and be a part of my smaller cousins’ lives as they grow up. I want to keep coming down enough so they remember who I am as they get older.
I woke up at 7AM again this morning. By body is on its own clock and while I slept better last night than the night before, I still woke up a few times and climbed out of bed once I felt like the sun was high enough. Had a bowl of Müsli with leche sin lactosa for breakfast and then had a second breakfast once Dad bought some avocados from one of the vendors on the beach. The vendors in the morning are numerous and today was no exception. In fact, Sunday turned out to be a really popular day at the beach and by noon, the sand and water were flooded with activity. Every 5 to 10 minutes or so, you’ll hear a man on the beach call out “meringues!” or “langostino!” Dad or Alyssa usually goes running out in that moment to scope out the goods, even if Dad had already claimed he didn’t want more fish 10 minutes earlier. Mom bought me a couple of really pretty sundresses from one of the vendors on Saturday and I’ve been wearing them over my bathing suits since they’re light and airy.
My parents came off the jet ski on a high and eventually went on it again an hour later. My other great uncle, tio Gordo (his real name is Antonio…or Ernesto actually…I think Chino’s real name is Antonio…I’m already getting confused) came over with one of his daughters and her daughter, both of whom I had never met. Gordo is also quite the character (something else I’ll reserve for those who inquire) but was nice. He must be 70 something and is only 11 months younger than his brother Chino. Needless to say their Mom didn’t have much time in between to recuperate.
I spent a better part of the morning inside to give my skin some time to recuperate. Did some reading on the hammock and ate some tasty mango. Around 2pm we took Lucho’s truck and ATV over to Chino’s place on the other side of Colan (about a 5-10 minute drive) for a late lunch.
The focus of the lunch was the caja china (Chinese box). Earlier in the day they had loaded two whole chickens, two pork roasts, camote (sweet potato) and plantains into this iron box and then placed another iron lid on top. By the time we came over, there were hot coals on top of the lid and the food had been cooking for hours. Our arrival was welcomed by some familiar and not so familiar faces. Mom reunited with her tia Iliana (Gordo and Chino’s younger sister by 10 years) and we met a few more family members we didn’t know well. Everyone was really nice and later on that afternoon, Jose and Lucho went back to the house to get my new guitar so I could play for the family after lunch. Lunch consisted of some delicious ceviche and then the chicken came out while the pork continued to cook. The chicken was delicious and practically melted in my mouth. We ate that with some rice, frijoles and ají sauce. Jenny, Chino’s wife, also made some delicious Pisco sours (yum!). I sang a couple songs and Alyssa and I even tried to remember an old one that we used to sing together. Unfortunately my lack of practice and fading memory didn’t help our cause and I ended up playing another song solo. After I sang, I got fed a yummy brownie but missed out on the lucuma ice cream.
The terrace on the ocean side of Chino’s house is on stilts, much like the rest of the houses in Colán. The difference with his house and those within proximity is that there is no longer a beach to climb down to. They have since dropped huge stones in front all the houses there to protect them from further eroding beach damage. Despite that major change in topography though, coming to that side of town definitely brought back other memories I thought were long gone. We passed by the door to my abuelita Maria’s house and I recognized the brick walls and little dirt paths that used to lead to the beach (now they lead to rock and water only). We also passed the club with its tennis courts and swimming pool, which unfortunately looked sort of abandoned. The little store almost across the street from abuelita’s house was still there too… I think I used to walk with my various family members to buy a bottle of Inca Kola there.
All in all, great day. It was all capped off by my first video chat with Doug since I’ve been down here! I have to admit, I got a little emotional about it. Only 12 days left now until he gets down here. Phew!
Another lazy day at the beach tomorrow. I’m going to be spending a lot more time in the sun and hopefully will get into the somewhat frigid waters in the afternoon when high tide is up.
January 10, 2011
My face sunburn is much better but I made the dumb mistake of not putting sunscreen on my chest today. So now the skin near my collar bone is almost purple (ick) and will probably itch like crazy tomorrow. *Sigh*.
We spent another easy summer day at the house. I went for a long walk with Mom and Dad around 10:30AM and we stopped for some “gas” (beers) at the local hotel, Sunset Bay, near the end of the beach. Dad and I met the owners the other day when we took the ATV to visit Gringo and we were happy to see Juan when we got there. He was having breakfast while his daughter and grand kids worked on school work. His grandkids worked out a lesson and homework schedule with their school in California so they could be away for 3 months in Peru while classes are still in session. We sat down and chatted with him for a half hour, said chau and walked back.
I spent the rest of the afternoon sunning and reading. In the evening, the whole family, Jose, Ursula and kids included, went back to the same hotel to watch the sunset. The hotel is really beautiful, with lots of white stucco, a pretty pool in the middle and palm trees right before a long stretch of beach. Seeing the orange, red and yellow colors of the setting sun behind it all was a fantastic way to end the day.
Six of us (me, Mom, Dad, Alyssa, Travis and Lucho) are taking Ursula’s van to Mancora tomorrow to check out that area of Peru. We are leaving here at 6AM to do the 2 hour drive, stay for the day and then leave in time to get back to Colán in time for sunset. It's no fun to drive on the highway around here at night.
I found a fan and am going to try closing the window tonight and see if that allows me to sleep better. It’s been a little better sleeping here, but I still get startled awake every time a big wave comes through. It sounds like a train is coming each time one of them crashes next to the house in the middle of the night. I’m at the point now though where my reactions to the noises have regressed to a dog on the beach head lift thing instead of the full on sit-up.
Hope everyone back home is enjoying the snow. :) I'm glad I'm on the beach!
“Donde esta Vanessa?”
That’s how my 6 year old cousin, Rodrigo, stormed into the house this morning with his 2 friends. My mom and dad were changing into bathing suits to go out on the jet ski for the first time and I had run into the bathroom. I heard the kids run into the house asking for me and gave a loud shout that I would be out in a minute.
Unfortunately, Rodrigo didn’t take the hint.
When I met him for the first time two days ago, it was obvious he was a character. He is the son of my tio Jose and the kid just talks…and talks…and talks. What’s funny is that he sort of has the vocabulary of an old man. I think he spent a lot of time with his grandparents the first few years of his life while his parents were at work for the day and he picked up some of their phrases and delivery techniques. For example, before his dad came home the first evening I was here, I met him, his brother (who might be the cutest kid on the planet) and Ursula, his mom. I was speaking with Ursula for a while and was admitting that I didn’t even remember Jose’s face after 15 years. In all honesty, I remembered a tan, skinny guy with a black goatee and that was about it. Rodrigo piped up then.
“You don’t remember my Dad?” He asked with a very serious tone.
“I remember him, but not his face!” I replied, laughing.
“Well, you might notice some changes…he has gained some weight.” Rodrigo clucked his tongue and then apparently felt the need to clarify further, “His body has changed.”
My jaw dropped for a second while I looked at Ursula, wanting to make sure that if a hysterical laugh slipped out I wouldn’t feel guilty for “encouraging” him. When she only rolled her eyes and snorted, I couldn’t help myself and soon enough the three of us were laughing together, Rodrigo himself obviously amused by his sincerity.
Cute kid, but don’t be fooled…sometimes he talks like an adult, but is still totally 6 years old.
As he barreled through the hallways, the leader of the pre-10 years old kid gang of Colán, I made a quick dive for the lock on the door. Five seconds later I heard the shove.
“Vanessa?”
“Un momento, ya vengo.” I said, trying to buy a couple more minutes of privacy.
“Vanessa, estas calata??”
“No, I’m not naked.” I muttered, as I finished washing my hands.
In a nutshell, that is the beauty of being surrounded by family. I love being in a little rustic house on the beach, right next door to people with my blood and down the street from even more people with my blood. But having all that family around means they’ll be in and out of the house whenever they want. And they will bring their other 6 year old friends. :)
I’m only pretending to complain. I love having family around, especially when I get to experience this so little. It’s amazing to be able to share memories with them and be a part of my smaller cousins’ lives as they grow up. I want to keep coming down enough so they remember who I am as they get older.
I woke up at 7AM again this morning. By body is on its own clock and while I slept better last night than the night before, I still woke up a few times and climbed out of bed once I felt like the sun was high enough. Had a bowl of Müsli with leche sin lactosa for breakfast and then had a second breakfast once Dad bought some avocados from one of the vendors on the beach. The vendors in the morning are numerous and today was no exception. In fact, Sunday turned out to be a really popular day at the beach and by noon, the sand and water were flooded with activity. Every 5 to 10 minutes or so, you’ll hear a man on the beach call out “meringues!” or “langostino!” Dad or Alyssa usually goes running out in that moment to scope out the goods, even if Dad had already claimed he didn’t want more fish 10 minutes earlier. Mom bought me a couple of really pretty sundresses from one of the vendors on Saturday and I’ve been wearing them over my bathing suits since they’re light and airy.
My parents came off the jet ski on a high and eventually went on it again an hour later. My other great uncle, tio Gordo (his real name is Antonio…or Ernesto actually…I think Chino’s real name is Antonio…I’m already getting confused) came over with one of his daughters and her daughter, both of whom I had never met. Gordo is also quite the character (something else I’ll reserve for those who inquire) but was nice. He must be 70 something and is only 11 months younger than his brother Chino. Needless to say their Mom didn’t have much time in between to recuperate.
I spent a better part of the morning inside to give my skin some time to recuperate. Did some reading on the hammock and ate some tasty mango. Around 2pm we took Lucho’s truck and ATV over to Chino’s place on the other side of Colan (about a 5-10 minute drive) for a late lunch.
The focus of the lunch was the caja china (Chinese box). Earlier in the day they had loaded two whole chickens, two pork roasts, camote (sweet potato) and plantains into this iron box and then placed another iron lid on top. By the time we came over, there were hot coals on top of the lid and the food had been cooking for hours. Our arrival was welcomed by some familiar and not so familiar faces. Mom reunited with her tia Iliana (Gordo and Chino’s younger sister by 10 years) and we met a few more family members we didn’t know well. Everyone was really nice and later on that afternoon, Jose and Lucho went back to the house to get my new guitar so I could play for the family after lunch. Lunch consisted of some delicious ceviche and then the chicken came out while the pork continued to cook. The chicken was delicious and practically melted in my mouth. We ate that with some rice, frijoles and ají sauce. Jenny, Chino’s wife, also made some delicious Pisco sours (yum!). I sang a couple songs and Alyssa and I even tried to remember an old one that we used to sing together. Unfortunately my lack of practice and fading memory didn’t help our cause and I ended up playing another song solo. After I sang, I got fed a yummy brownie but missed out on the lucuma ice cream.
The terrace on the ocean side of Chino’s house is on stilts, much like the rest of the houses in Colán. The difference with his house and those within proximity is that there is no longer a beach to climb down to. They have since dropped huge stones in front all the houses there to protect them from further eroding beach damage. Despite that major change in topography though, coming to that side of town definitely brought back other memories I thought were long gone. We passed by the door to my abuelita Maria’s house and I recognized the brick walls and little dirt paths that used to lead to the beach (now they lead to rock and water only). We also passed the club with its tennis courts and swimming pool, which unfortunately looked sort of abandoned. The little store almost across the street from abuelita’s house was still there too… I think I used to walk with my various family members to buy a bottle of Inca Kola there.
All in all, great day. It was all capped off by my first video chat with Doug since I’ve been down here! I have to admit, I got a little emotional about it. Only 12 days left now until he gets down here. Phew!
Another lazy day at the beach tomorrow. I’m going to be spending a lot more time in the sun and hopefully will get into the somewhat frigid waters in the afternoon when high tide is up.
January 10, 2011
My face sunburn is much better but I made the dumb mistake of not putting sunscreen on my chest today. So now the skin near my collar bone is almost purple (ick) and will probably itch like crazy tomorrow. *Sigh*.
We spent another easy summer day at the house. I went for a long walk with Mom and Dad around 10:30AM and we stopped for some “gas” (beers) at the local hotel, Sunset Bay, near the end of the beach. Dad and I met the owners the other day when we took the ATV to visit Gringo and we were happy to see Juan when we got there. He was having breakfast while his daughter and grand kids worked on school work. His grandkids worked out a lesson and homework schedule with their school in California so they could be away for 3 months in Peru while classes are still in session. We sat down and chatted with him for a half hour, said chau and walked back.
I spent the rest of the afternoon sunning and reading. In the evening, the whole family, Jose, Ursula and kids included, went back to the same hotel to watch the sunset. The hotel is really beautiful, with lots of white stucco, a pretty pool in the middle and palm trees right before a long stretch of beach. Seeing the orange, red and yellow colors of the setting sun behind it all was a fantastic way to end the day.
Six of us (me, Mom, Dad, Alyssa, Travis and Lucho) are taking Ursula’s van to Mancora tomorrow to check out that area of Peru. We are leaving here at 6AM to do the 2 hour drive, stay for the day and then leave in time to get back to Colán in time for sunset. It's no fun to drive on the highway around here at night.
I found a fan and am going to try closing the window tonight and see if that allows me to sleep better. It’s been a little better sleeping here, but I still get startled awake every time a big wave comes through. It sounds like a train is coming each time one of them crashes next to the house in the middle of the night. I’m at the point now though where my reactions to the noises have regressed to a dog on the beach head lift thing instead of the full on sit-up.
Hope everyone back home is enjoying the snow. :) I'm glad I'm on the beach!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
La Gringa Peruana returns.
“You’ve just gotta bend the system.”
When my new friend, Gringo said that to me on the flight from Miami, I laughed as one would when they are “in the know” and it’s so obvious, but I didn’t know then how often it would pop into my head over the following days. Gringo, as I will refer to him henceforth in an effort to keep private the details of his life he kindly shared with me, sat down in seat 3B (I was in 3A) and we immediately struck up a nice flight friendship. Advice #1 – if you want to be almost guaranteed interesting conversation with really powerful and knowledgeable people, fly first or business class. Turned out Gringo from Atlanta (so imagine thick southern accent) was not only headed to Piura right after, he had been living there for 10 years or so digging for oil. Even though the well he was digging into had prompted “waste of time” comments from the other local area oil experts, he had hit big. I explained that this would be my first time back there in around 14 years and he sort of gave a crooked smile. Piura was apparently growing quickly now, with three new supermarkets opened in the past few months. Sullana, the actual town my mom spent the first few years of her life, was sadly now bien peligroso as the #2 most problematic town in Peru with a murder once a week or so. And Colán was well, still Colán…new houses, old houses and abandoned houses. But still Colán.
When I arrived into Jorge Chavez Airport in Lima the following morning at 5:15AM, I smelled that same Peruvian smell and dustiness that always seems so familiar to me. It hit just as I exited the plane and I commented on it as I was rushing after Gringo, the all-knowing-system-bender (who was intent on getting us both through baggage claim and checked in before the masses had time to follow). He chuckled, but Gringo obviously doesn’t have the same appreciation for smells as Doug and I do.
Advice #2, if you check in early, you’ll not only be waiting a long time for your flight but you’ll also be waiting a long time for your bag to come out from the bottom of the plane….LIFO anyone? After I finally got my bag, I went through the declaration area only to have to re-check the bag in again for the flight to Piura. Gringo was still in the baggage area when I left and indicated that I go ahead without him. I then booked it to security for the last flight and got stopped because I had a nail file in my back pack. The Peruvian security at Jorge Chavez Airport couldn’t care less about my bag and water bottle full of liquids, but when they pulled my backpack aside and went through it, only to pull out the nail file, my security lady looked at me and shook her head vigorously. “It’s not even sharp,” I pointed out in English. I didn’t know how to say sharp in Spanish. “No, no,” she replied and threw it into the plastic bin along with all the other abandoned small nail clippers and “weapons.” One must assume they have had problems with nail files in the past so I can’t fault them for taking away my nice metal one. My apologies in advance to all the people I spend time with at the end of the month that may lay eyes on my gnarly toe nails.
Got to the gate to Piura early and re-opened Naked Economics for another few pages before Gringo came strolling up to me. “They lost my luggage and I had to fill out a bunch of forms.” He seemed in pretty good spirits despite the loss though and we continued chatting more about his oil rigs in Piura, which eventually evolved into showing me pictures of his wife, 6 month old daughter and his new amphibious plane he was buying and naming after his daughter. As we began boarding, Gringo saw me getting in line for the back of the plane (they had split the fliers into two groups) and promptly gestured at me, asking if I wanted to see if we could switch my seat to the front. “Sure, it would get me off the plane earlier, but I really don’t mind that much.” All it took was a “sure” before Gringo meandered up to the desk and asked the attendant to switch my ticket to row 2 from where I was currently sitting in row 13.
The last flight was easy and an hour and a half later, I was in Piura and hugging my parents “hello.” Gringo met them quickly before continuing on his way and a “wave me down in Colán if you see me and I can show you my oil rig!” Mom, Dad and I then hopped into a car with a family-trusted driver, made a stop at Vea, one of the new supermarkets in Piura and loaded up on more food and odds and ends we needed for the house. The trip back to Colán was a little wild. I will never get used to Peruvian driving and even though it wasn’t as bad as Lima driving, it was still pretty crazy. We were going 140km per hour at some point on a little 2 lane highway, passing trucks and pedi cabs along the way. At times we were on the dividing line in the middle of two cars on either side of us making a pass. I tried my best to look outside more than ahead of me, trusting that our driver knew what he was doing and the best way to navigate (he did). Unfortunately, the very little I remembered of Piura had not stuck with me and what I saw outside was kind of shocking.
To start, the coast of Peru is desert and Piura is way up north in Peru, much closer to the equator than Lima is. Everything up here between cities looks very, very dry and barren. The area is also mostly flat so when you look out in the distance you see dying trees and lots of dust. What struck me though was the amount of garbage lying around. We easily drove by two areas of absolute garbage carnage in the 45 minute drive, with people, goats and stray dogs all milling about in it. It’s certainly not something that’s foreign to Lima either, so I’m certainly aware of its sad existence, but seeing it so closely while at a stoplight was depressing. On one hand, it’s a poignant reminder that we have to take care of the places we live in. The U.S. is eons ahead in that sense and for the most part, you can drive around Boston without seeing trash everywhere. On the other hand, it was vivid evidence of growth and change. As strange as it might sound, the increase in trash is partially caused because of the economic growth of the country. You have people becoming less poor, with more ability to buy stuff but no increased education on proper ways to dispose of stuff when it’s no longer needed or wanted. So part of the solution is more education and incentive to facilitate keeping streets clean. Lima, for example, during its growing period, has actually hired more people to clean up the streets and as a result, you have parts of Lima that are clean and very nice to walk around in. Piura is in a growing phase and hopefully with the help of good government incentive and appreciation for cleanliness, it will eventually get cleaned up too. For now, the city is ugly and honestly, the drive to Colán was ugly too. I was reminded then of what Gringo said earlier. “You’ve gotta bend the system.” Nothing moves forward unless society breaks from its norms. The successful drivers of change are the people going against the “system” and that made me appreciate the small improvements, even those I didn’t have the context to notice.
With the unpleasant scenery in mind and tired from the trip, I arrived at the house in Colán kind of down. I know…I’m in a house on the beach, it’s 80 degrees outside and I am feeling down? Hard to explain, but ceviche, meringues, sweet empanadas, coffee, “hello, I miss you” emails to Doug, some catch-up with the family and a nap on the hammock in front of the waves definitely helped to bring my spirits up.
My first day at Colán finished up with arroz chaufa, a visit from my mom’s uncle, who everyone calls El Chino even though there’s not a bit of Chinese in him, and his wife. Oh and I got a guitar! Tio Lucho convinced some borachos to sell one to him. We’re not sure to what extent they knew they were selling anything. It’s a pretty classical guitar so I have to get used to the wider neck, but it was a wonderful surprise to have something to play on while I’m down here.
My parents had thought Gringo was very nice when they met him at the airport but when we mentioned the real name of Gringo to the rest of the family, they were more impressed. His name is apparently well known and they all had good things to say about him, having heard he was buena gente.
The night ended by 10PM with a chilly ocean breeze and crashing ocean waves.
I woke up this morning in a daze. I had no idea what time it was but it was finally light out. I say finally because during the night, I must have woken up 7 or 8 times when a big wave came crashing on what sounded like my window (really it was below the house, but man, the ocean is loud at night). Each time it was dark out and not knowing what time it was then either, I flipped over and prayed that light was coming soon so I didn’t have to keep lying here in the dark, eerie wave crashing nighttime. Weird, right?
I maneuvered myself out of my top bunk bed and wandered into the living room. I heard my Dad cough from the outside bungalow in back. I wasn’t the only one awake. I turned on my computer and glanced at the clock. 7:10AM.
Unfortunately, coffee wasn’t brewing already and I, frankly, didn’t feel like making it myself. So I opened the door to the porch and took in the foggy high tide skyline until my Dad came in with his computer. A few minutes later Mom came in and started making breakfast sandwiches with the eggs and fresh bread from yesterday.
After breakfast, I went for a walk with Mom, Dad and Lucho towards the newer part of Colan (to the left, facing the water). The houses over there are newly constructed and quite nice with little gardens out back. They’re also more setback from the sea and thus more protected from the ocean’s beatings. Dad and I turned back earlier once he realized that he hadn’t put sunscreen on the back of his neck and I decided I would have to pee really bad in about 10 minutes. As we turned around, my tio Jose flew by us on his jet ski, waving. We reached the house and his wife Ursula and the kids (my cousins) were out front chatting with neighbors. When I came out again, Ursula had a life vest ready for me to try out the jet ski for the first time. I hopped on while Jose pushed me and it along in the water and then climbed on in front of me. I held on to Jose tightly at first, scared I might fall off but quickly got comfortable. The feeling of the wind and navigating around the fishermen and boats in the water was just amazing. We went all the way down towards the end of the beach and there was Gringo’s boat. I laughed when I saw it and Jose circled around it to see if Gringo was around to say hi. I didn’t see any familiar faces though so we headed back and past the house to the other side where my abuelita’s old house was. The house was actually being repaired, a nice contrast to the vast amount of abandoned and destroyed foundations and collapsed roofs surrounding it. That part of Colán doesn’t even have shore anymore, which is so wild to me since only 20 years ago when I was just a little girl, there was just as much shore to walk on as there is at the house we’re staying at now.
We sped back and Jose asked me if I wanted to try driving the jet ski. I had a moment of panic and passed on the offer and then 5 minutes later took it back when I realized I was acting like a scared toddler. I switched with him, clipping the emergency clip to my life vest while he got comfortable in back. He quickly walked me through the controls and off we went.
COOLEST THING EVER. I went jet skiing in PERU! Wee!
Now that the jet ski is officially my favorite summer toy, I’m absolutely hooked. I drove around with a huge smile on my face for maybe 10 minutes until Jose and I switched back around so we could go pick up some other family members on shore. As we got to the spot where my family was walking, Jose drove around in tight figure 8s, using the motor and ocean movements to scare away the sting rays buried in the sand below. Sting rays are prominent in the northern part of Peru and in low tide, you have to be careful going in since it’s easy to step on one sunning itself in the warmer, sun-kissed sand. I have thankfully never gotten stung but I do vividly remember being a little girl and running into the water in low tide, a boogie board in hand, while my mom, tias and abuelitas all shouted at me to “ten cuidado con las rayas!” Sting rays renowned enough here to make people avoid stepping on them at all costs and a common rule is to avoid entering the water during low tide. Of course, morning low tide is a nice time to be on the jet ski since the water is still pretty calm. So when you enter in low tide, you just have to drag your feet in the sand and the rays will usually hear you coming and scatter away.
Jose gave Alyssa and Travis got a quick tutorial on the jet ski before they took off, Travis driving first since he was already experienced. By that point, Dad had already driven the quadrimoto to where we were and gave Mom and Lucho a ride back while Jose and I walked. Upon arrival at the house, Dad asked if I wanted to take a ride on the quadrimoto and visit Gringo’s compound, which I had seen while on the jet ski, much further down the beach. I was curious to see it up close so Dad and I went towards the big boat that was floating in the distance.
As we got closer, we noticed lots of activity around Gringo’s compound on the shore. There were two serious construction tractors, a truck with a wench, a huge jet ski and a crew of people. Turns out they were in the process of taking the boat out of the water for some repairs. It took about a half around and some serious horsepower to get it out, but once it was out, Dad and I gave a quick wave to the boat and Gringo recognizing me said “Hey, Vanessa! Give me a few minutes and I’ll get you guys on here!”
Excited that we would get to board, Dad and I hopped back on the quadri and drove towards the entrance to the compound as the boat was being pulled in. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a ladder accessible to make it easy for either of us to board and I didn’t have shoes on to go wandering around the compound. Getting up involved a bunch of guys literally lifting me up on to the deck, followed by a second heave for my dad. Hah! Gringo gave us free reign to explore while he continued to observe the pull-in. I’ll spare details except to those that ask about it when I’m back in Boston, but it was quite an experience. We then got treated to a couple beers and good conversation at the next door Sunset hotel and bar by Gringo and a few of his friends.
It must have been three hours before Dad and I returned since our arrival was greeted by “geez, took you long enough to get back”. We gushed about the boat and beers, Dad being the most excited about the heavy machinery used to pull the boat out. My Mom and Alyssa started laughing after the third time Dad said “and TWO BIG TRACTORS AND A TRUCK” in the middle of another story segment until my Dad pouted. If they had seen it, they probably would have been just as excited.
Coming back to reality, it took one glance in the mirror to realize that I was totally sunburned. Serves me right I suppose for thinking SPF 15 would be enough protection for my first day and 4 hours in peak sunlight.
We had a delicious lunch of fried fish with rice and tamales verdes. The food settled a bit and then Alyssa, Travis and I decided it was time to work out. Armed with on-the-spot exercise moves, Alyssa and I started by positioning ourselves on the front porch while Travis dilly-dallied on the computer for another 10 minutes. We started with some jumping jacks to warm up and then went into into a few chair sits against the wall, squats and forward bends on one foot (I don’t know what the real name for that move is). Alyssa and I thought we took great initiative by our impromptu workout but judging by the looks of passersby, we must have making quite the spectacle of ourselves. Apparently people don’t work out while on the beach in Colán. We continued anyway, laughing anytime someone walked by us and unabashedly slowed down to stare. Travis didn’t help in our efforts for acceptance. He came out and started doing squats with a ridiculous smirk on his face, causing Alyssa and I laugh even harder and look even less graceful. We then topped of our work out by returning indoors for some arm exercises “armed” with the most fitting natural weight we could find…mangos.
“Alyssa, I like your mangos,” I said jokingly, bending sideways to give my left oblique a much needed stretch, mango in left hand. Alyssa doubled over and that was the end of our work out.
Tomorrow we are going to Chino’s for lunch at 1PM. His house is over by where my abuelita’s was and it should be interesting to explore the old area by road.
The sunset tonight was gorgeous and the ocean is at high tide again and under our house crashing away. It took a little while, but I’m starting to feel more at peace here.
Friday, January 7, 2011
I'm here. And I'm tired.
I'm in Colán, I'm exhausted and the wireless hotspot is unfortunately working on everyone's computer but mine. I'm borrowing my sister's to post this short little entry and let you all know I landed safe and sound. Lots of good stories to tell already between the interesting people I met on my flights down and my adult first impressions of Piura and Colán. I'll be writing them locally on my own laptop for now until I have a better opportunity to craft and post them. More to come but the latest positive highlights include a beautiful Peruvian sunset, a delicious nap on a hammock and a surprise classical guitar from Tio Lucho so I can play while I'm down here.
I am now falling asleep to the comforting feel of a silver necklace around my neck and the sound of waves crashing underneath my bedroom. Estas en mis sueños, mi amor. Good night, all.
I am now falling asleep to the comforting feel of a silver necklace around my neck and the sound of waves crashing underneath my bedroom. Estas en mis sueños, mi amor. Good night, all.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Ugh...packing.
The bed is a disaster. I am now in round 3 of packing...i.e. I started two other times and ultimately pushed it all to the side. I'm flying out this evening so this is it.Packing for 3 weeks is an art. In my case, I have the option to do laundry while I'm down there, so I really only need to bring 10 days worth of clothing. But what about that pretty dress? Not something I'll use every day but it's good to have, just in case. So really it's 10 days of clothes I know I'll ACTUALLY wear plus a few extra outfits for good measure in case I go out, have to dress up, meet the President, etc.
In case you don't know me well, I'm risk averse. I have been raised to plan for worst case scenarios. Have to bring a change of clothes in my carry-on, JUST IN CASE the airline loses my luggage. Have to put all my liquids in baggies, JUST IN CASE the pressure causes bottles to explode. The friends that have traveled with me probably think I'm insane but have been nice enough not to say so... Doug has traveled with me many times but never internationally. Over the past two weeks, he has seen my procrastination progress to planning mode and travel day anxiety. I dropped him off at work this morning and he, knowing me, made some friendly jabs at my ridiculousness.
"Do you have your passport?!"
"I have to get it out of my 'Personal' folder in my file box. But I have an Excel spreadsheet with my packing list so I'll remember to grab it."
Actually, he was really just trying to help me focus on the fact that in 24 hours I would be in sunny Peru. I was already sad about leaving him for two weeks. :( Ugh.
So anyway, my travel madness really starts at 2pm today when I begin walking to Kendall Square to take the T to the airport. BOS to MIA flight is at 5:40pm. I leave MIA for LIM shortly before midnight, arrive in LIM at 5:30AM tomorrow and then hop on the last leg of my journey at 7:25AM, arriving in Piura, Peru at 9AM.
I am very much looking forward to this vacation and am particularly excited about my first week. I haven't been to this part of the country since I was 12 years old. My great grandmother, Abuelita Maria, used to have a house right on the beach of Colán (see pictures). I was lucky enough to visit quite a bit as a little girl but as our trips back to Lima became fewer and farther in between, so did the extra trips to Colán. Luckily, Tio Lucho (my mom's brother) is up there quite a bit now for work and decided to rent a house for the summer. It took 14 years to go back and I'm sure a lot has changed, but I have only one request for "unchanged" and it is this - please let there still be a woman who visits the houses every morning with a basket full of fresh bread and meringues with sprinkles.
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