The Inca Journal 07

Weaving with Margarita: The Video!

2007-09-30T09:25:00.000-05:00

Here is a short video of my fellow weaving student, Leslie, and me in our weaving classes in Huancayo, Peru. Enjoy!

Thank you's...

2007-08-07T10:08:00.000-05:00

New York, NY

To a few of the people who made this adventure as amazing as it was...

To Eugenio and Geovanny Cordova, brothers and founders of the Instituto Superior de Esp anol in Quito, as well as my fabulous teachers, Maria Elisabeth and Paula. Eugenio was the first person I met in South America. He picked me up from the airport at 11:30 at night, and made me feel very welcome. In 1988, the school was one of the first to open in Quito, which has now become the capital of Spanish language study in South America. The school is run with the utmost professionalism, and the teachers are well trained and qualified, and know what they are doing! In addition, Geovanny always had excursions around the city and around Ecuador planned and ready to go for anyone who desired. My hands down recommendation for anyone seeking a great travel/study experience!

To Luigina Fossati, the sweet Italian lady who runs Hostal Casapaxi in Quito. For her motherly hospitality - always making sure her guests were safe and well and had everything they needed. When I told her I had studied Italian in college, she proceeded to speak to me in Italian from thereon out, which thoroughly confused me in my attempt to study Spanish at the time!

Lucho Hurtado works a late night in the Incas del Peru office

To Lucho Hurtado, brainchild behind Incas del Peru in Huancayo, adventure leader, entrepreneur, community organizer, visionary, "teacher of life," ...this man never stops! In addition to running two restaurants, an inn, and organizing treks, courses, and excursions, Lucho has led the drive to revive train service on the historic Central Andean line, organizes programs to help children in Huancayo's orphanages, and leads efforts to open his community to the world, following the difficult decades of war and terrorism in the Central Andean region.

To Margarita for teaching me how to weave in five days! I have no doubt she's reading this right now on her laptop. Even when she grew impatient with me and cursed in Quechua, I had a blast!

To Nilda at La Casa de la Abuela in Huancayo. For all the incredible home-cooked meals and warm hospitality, and for cooking me eggs every morning, since I couldn't eat pan. And to her 4-year old nino, the two cats, the dirty, shaggy dog, and the talking parrot who ate my sunscreen lotion, for making the ambiance lively!

To the kids at Aldea Infantil el Rosario orphanage in Huancayo for opening up their world to me for an afternoon, and to the people at Fundacion por Los Ninos del Peru who look after them.

To my guides, Pedro at the Quilatoa Lagoon in Ecuador, Dennis at Yarina Lodge in the Ecuadorian Amazon, and to David and Gladys from Peru Treks, who took special care to look after me while I was sick on the Inca Trail, as well as a huge thanks to the chaskes (porters), who helped carry my load on the Trail. If you hike the Inca Trail, Peru Treks comes highly recommended, not only for the excellence and professionalism of their service, but for their exceptional attention to the welfare of their porters, and for the community projects they are involved with in the towns from which their porters are hired.

To Carol LeBreck and Judith Freund at the Global Links Global Educators Program, who understand the value of incorporating global learning and teaching experiences such as this into school curricula.

To the many fellow travelers who shared time and experiences with me on the trail. Even though I traveled solo, I was almost never alone! Thanks for the companionship and camaraderie along the way. And of course, to all the Ecuadorians and Peruvians whose warmth and hospitality were extraordinary. All the dire warnings of crime and danger proved wrong - at least in my experience. Don't be afraid to travel to this wonderful part of the world. Keep your wits about you, as you would almost anywhere, and you will experience nothing but a warm and enthusiastic welcome!

Home!

2007-08-07T10:02:00.001-05:00

New York, NY

Home at last! It was an amazing trip, and now it seems.... just a dream. Thanks for following along! I will offer a few more posts in the coming days - thoughts, images and details I didn't get to in the rush of the moment.

Museo de Arte de Lima

2007-08-05T14:19:00.000-05:00

Lima, Peru

Francisco Laso"La Lavandera" (1858)Óleo sobre lienzoMuseo de Arte, Lima

This morning I wandered through the Museo de Arte de Lima on this cloudy last day in South America. The Pre-Columbian ceramics and textiles were fascinating as ever, and I found some interesting paintings by early Modern Peruvian painters Francisco Laso, Teófilo Castillo, and Julia Codesido.

Julia Codesido. Cristo de la Cruz Verde, siglo XXAcrílico sobre lienzo, 67.5 x 48 cm

What caught my attention the most was an exhibition of the work of Josef and Anni Albers. I had not known of the work of Josef´s wife, Anni, nor had I known of their intense interest and experience in Latin America, and its influence on their artwork. The couple spent time living and working in Mexico, where Josef was inspired by the geometric forms of Aztec architecture and design motifs - which led to the geometric compositions in a lot of his work. While in Mexico, he also did a lot of his color studies using natural pigments found in the area.

Josef Albers, Adobe (Variant): Luminous Day, 1947/52Oil on masonite. JAAF: 1976.1.1382. 28 x 53.34 cm (11 x 21 inches)

Anni Albers, La Luz I, 1947Cotton, hemp, and metallic gimp. JAAF: 1994.12.247 x 82.5 cm (18-1/2 x 32-1/2 inches)

The two also did a lot of traveling in South America, including to Peru, where Anni studied textile designs, and incorporated weaving and textiles into her art in some very interesting ways. As I contemplate how to incorporate what I have seen and learned into meaningful lessons for my students and into strands of my own artwork, seeing this bridge between the Modern Art world and the ancient traditions of Latin America was a timely and intriguing find!

Anni Albers, Two, 1952Linen, cotton, rayon. JAAF: 1996.12.345.7 x 104.1 cm (18 x 41 inches)

Isla Taquile, Lake Titicaca

2007-08-03T19:49:00.001-05:00

Lake Titicaca, Peru

Nestled between the Andes and the Altiplano, Lake Titicaca is the largest lake in South America. At over 12,000 ft. above sea level, it is the world´s highest navigable lake. It is also the cradle of Peru´s ancient civilizations, including the Inca. The myth goes that the first Inca, Manco Capac was born of the Sun god Inti here, and emerged from the Lake to bring forth the Inca Empire. There is a white statue of Manco Capac looking down over the port town of Puno (albeit with a cross in his hand).

Manco Capac looks down over Puno and Lake Titicaca

The sun is very brilliant over the water, the colors intense, and like everywhere in the Andes, the sky is always a dramatic display of clouds and light. Ride the boat out two and a half hours, and you will arrive at Taquile Island.

The island has been inhabited for thousands of years by a lineage of Quechua-speaking people who have maintained a distinct cultural identity from the peoples of the mainland. They have rich artisan traditions, including the knitting of hats (done by men) and weaving (by women). You can often see the men and boys knitting hats as they go about their daily routines on the island.

Boys practice their knitting skills

Kite-flying on Taquile

Tourism changes everything

Terra cotta pot, Taquile

Young girl in the village square

Earthen bricks drying in the sun

Young girl, Taquile

Man in traditional dress; hat design indicates that he is married

Floating Islands of Lake Titicaca

2007-08-03T18:46:00.000-05:00

Lake Titicaca, Peru

The Uros are a Pre-Inca group of indigenous Peruvians who have lived for centuries on floating islands made from layers of the totora reeds that grow in the shallow areas of Lake Titicaca. The islands are built on a foundation of roots of the reeds, in meter-thick blocks, which are bound together and anchored to the bottom of the lake. Layers of reeds are then laid upon the root blocks, and are replenished regularly to replace areas that have rotted. Nearly everything else on the islands are also made from the reeds, including buildings, canoes, furniture, and toys for the children. Part of the root is also eaten as a staple of the Uros´diet, in addition to fish and rice.

A young Uros girl

Houses made of reed

Totora reed bundled and set out to dry

The life of a floating feline

Uros boy in a reed fishing boat

The morning´s catch

Reed boat

Eduardo, 15, takes us for a ride on a reed boat

On the Trail of the Inca / Machu Picchu

2007-08-01T19:16:00.000-05:00

(30 July)

Inca Trail - Machu Picchu, Peru
This one is for the ever fabulous Reneé Darvin.

Our last morning on the Inca Trail, we are up at 3:30am. The checkpoint five minutes downhill opens at 5:30am. The problem is there are many groups camped out, waiting to pass through the checkpoint when it opens, so we need to get there early to be at the front of the line. Once we are cleared, we have about a two hour hike to get to Machu Picchu. The anticipation is great, and the morning is still and quiet. At sunrise, we approach Intipata, the Sun Gate, from which the first views of the Machu Picchu citadel can be seen below. We´ve made it!

It´s almost another hour´s walk to get down to Machu Picchu, watching its stone contours and alleyways emerge below the rising sun. Illness, foot blisters, callouses, sore muscles, aches, and hammered knees all fade away. We are basking in the glow of arrival.

Already the buses are exhaling tourists from Auguas Calientas by the hundreds at this early hour, but at least we have the relative quiet of the morning to take in the vastness of the place. By noon, the site will be literally flooded - resembling an amusement park. The park regulations allow 2,500 tourists to enter per day. I feel entitled to my space, having walked for three and a half days to get here, but I too am one of the millions who are contributing to the demise of this precious jewel. A group of Japanese scientists recently found that the terraces at the edges of Machu Picchu are sloping downward at a rate of 2cm per month, due to the heavy traffic on the delicate site. It is not unforeseeable that this will be a site only visible from a distance at some point in the near future.

On the Trail of the Inca / Part Three

2007-08-01T17:50:00.000-05:00

(29 July)
Inca Trail, Peru

On the third morning, we set off from camp into a mystical landscape of shifting clouds and light. We have about three hours ascent to reach the second pass at Qochapata (12,916 ft). I´ve recovered nearly 100%, and my stomach is feeling much more normal this morning. On the way to the top, we stop at the small Inca ruins of Runkurakay and pass by a small mountain lake.

It is customary on the Trail to pick up a stone at Runkurakay and carry it to the top, where you place it on a rock pile at the summit and make a wish.

From the Second Pass, we make a steep descent deep into the cloud forest, where the climate and plant life changes dramatically. We visit the Inca sites of Sayaqmarka and Phuyupatamarka and pass over our third and final pass at 12,000 ft.

Sayaqmarka

Sayaqmarka, built high on a mountain top, is believed to have been used by the Incas as an astronomical observatory. Just over the third pass, Phuyuptamarca ("city above the clouds") demonstrates well the Inca use of terraces, which were built to prevent erosion, but also served as agricultural areas.

Phuyuptamarca

The cloud forest is lush and green, and offers an unbelievable variety of plant species - bamboo, orchids, moss and lichens of every color and variety...

On the Trail of the Inca / Part Two

2007-07-31T20:19:00.000-05:00

(28 July)
Inca Trail, Peru

I´ve decided I´m in this for the long haul no matter what. There´s no turning back! In the morning, though my stomach is still clearly bad, I´ve regained much of my energy. I will need it for this day - for the steep climb over Warmiwañusca, aka Dead Woman´s Pass (1,272 ft.).

The trail is steep, and the main focus is on getting oxygen into one´s lungs while making progress on the trail. I take slow steps, and rest every few minutes. We climb for about five hours towards the pass. My stomach remains much of my focus, but I begin to feel a part of the immense landscape around me, and finally take out my camera for the first time as the Pass comes into view.

As I reach the pass, condors are flying overhead through the clouds, around the snow capped peaks. Tired trekkers and chaskes are resting weary muscles and bones. A group of some ninety school boys and their teacher are singing the national anthem and shouting, "Viva Perú!". Today is Peru´s Independence Day. I am feeling relief that I have made it, and have not had to turn back on the trail. This is the point of no return. Once you have passed this spot, the only way is onward.

The two hours left before reaching camp are downhill. I take it slow, and enjoy the surroundings, as the landscape turns closer to the cloud forest - the transitional ecosystem between the Andes and the rainforest. I focus on the stones beneath my feet - laid by Inca hands some 800 years ago, and the ever-changing array of plant species at my sides.

Descending to Camp

Camp at Paqamayu

On the Trail of the Inca / Part One

2007-07-31T18:49:00.000-05:00

(27 July)

Cuzco - Inca Trail, Peru

Traveling in the Andes, there are two things you can be assured of, both of which I experienced in their fullness on the Inca Trail: 1.) Witnessing landscapes, colors, skies, mountains, people like no other, and 2.) Having your stomach invaded by parasites.

4:45am Friday morning. My alarm clock goes off in my hotel room in Cuzco. The trek company is to pick me up at 5:20 to set out for the 4-day trek on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. I´ve had a fever, chills, aches, sweating, dizziness, headaches all night. What am I going to do? I´m really sick! It may be altitude sickness, I think, but I´ve been fine two days in Cuzco - why would it be affecting me now? I drop my bags at the door, and tell the guide I´ve been sick all night. He says he thinks it may be the altitude. "Let´s see how you do the first couple of hours, if need be, there will be the opportunity to turn back, and you could join us at Machu Picchu by train on Monday."

We board a bus and pick up the other members of our trek group - fifteen in total, and head to Ollantaytambo - the last town before the starting point of the Inca Trail - where we will get breakfast and pick up any last minute necessities for the trail. The bus rumbles and bumps constantly up and down. The window won´t close, and the air outside is cold. My stomach is starting to turn on me. I´ve been planning this part of the trip since last December. The tour comapnay´s website brags that no one has ever had to turn back on the trail. I try to get used to the idea that I will be the first; that, after giving it the obligatory shot, I will turn back on the trail and return to Cuzco to overcome whatever is ailing me.

The bus drops us at the head of the trail. There are dirty shacks, animals, mountain women carrying baskets full of drinks and snacks to sell, as trekkers prepare their things to set off on the trail. Soon, we are off - after showing our passports and permits at the control office, we cross a small suspension bridge over the Urubamba River, and set off on the trail. My head is still spinning, as is my stomach as I put one foot in front of the other, the morning sun now shining down upon us.

The first day´s hike is not terribly long or difficult - about six hours, mostly even ground, with a few ups and downs, but my head is throbbing, my stomach, churning, and I have little energy. I don´t even take my camera out all day - which is a sure sign that I´m not well! When we get to camp, the tents have already been set up by our porters, or chaskes, as they are called in Quechua. It´s a term that means "swift-footed ones." The chaske tradition goes back to Inca times. It is a proud and revered profession - something akin to the athlete in Ancient Greece. I´m told the Incas would actually hold games wherein chaskes would compete to carry heavy loads over steep mountain passes. It´s also one of the most sought after positions in Peru to be a chaske on the Inca Trail, as these men are part of a long tradition, and make a decent living by Peruvian standards. There are regulations now about how much they can be required to carry (20 kilos). As you walk along the trail, you hear, "Chaske!," and you step aside to let him pass, with a mountain of bags and equipment on his back. I see the chaskes go by, and my fixation on my own burden and lack of energy begins to fade.

I get some sleep at camp, and after dinner, our guides, David and Gladys, take me and one other sick trekker to the Medic office down in the small village below our campsite. The village is celebrating its 64th anniversary, so there is the sound of a loud generator outside, and blaring music, as the handful of residents gather in the central courtyard. Inside, the two medics ask us questions about our symptoms in their tiny institutional green office lit by a single candle. The woman fishes in the back for a stash of pills. She examines them under a flashlight. I am to take one of each twice daily for three days.

We return to our tents and settle in for the night, under an ocean of stars. The sound of the generator and the Andean music from the village below, and the occasional explosion of fireworks swirl into a surreal dreamscape.

...Off on the Inca Trail

2007-07-26T20:49:00.000-05:00

Cuzco, Peru

Tomorrow morning at 5:40am, there will be a knock at my hotel door, and I will be off on the Inca Trail for four days, reaching Machu Picchu early on Monday morning. ...More to come when I get back!

Early Morning over the Andes

2007-07-25T21:37:00.000-05:00

Flight from Lima to Cuzco, Peru

Train to the Sky

2007-07-25T19:57:00.000-05:00

(24 July)

Central Andean Railway from Huancayo to Lima, Peru

At 7am punto the wheels of the Ferrocarril Central Andino screech off on their tracks through the dusty shantytowns, the outskirts of Huancayo, and on through the Rio Mantarro Valley. We climb from the nearly 10,000 feet altitude of the altiplano towards the route´s peak - La Galera Station - at 15,681 feet above sea level, the highest train station in the world.

Actually, it´s the second highest. There´s a certain sense of resentment and dismissal among Peruvians at the recent Chinese feat of topping this railroad´s claim to be the highest railroad in the world. With modern engineering and big money, the Chinese managed to construct a state-of-the art high-speed train across Tibet in a few years. This train has a longer and more difficult story to tell.

Originally opened after forty years of construction in 1908, the railroad was designed by Polish engineer Ernest Malinowski for the transport of copper and zinc from the Andes to the Pacific ports at Lima. Service was disrupted by a war with Chile, the internal struggle with the Shining Path guerrilla organization, and finally came to a stand still in 1991, after one of the stations was blown up by the Shining Path.

As roads and bus service through the mountains improved in the interim, it seemed the train was down for good. Lucho Hurtado, the man behind Incs del Peru, the Huancayo-based travel company responsible for my weaving courses and accommodations there, was one individual determined not to let the train die. For fifteen years, Lucho led efforts to raise money and convince the government to restore the train service.

In recent years, the dark cloud of terrorism and the Shining Path has lifted from the Central Andes, and tourists have started to return. Finally, late last year, it was announced that passenger service on the railway would begin again in 2007.

Thus, I am riding this train today and witnessing this spectacular landscape because of the blood, sweat, and tears of the Peruvian people who scaled these breathtaking heights to dig tunnels and lay tracks more than one hundred years ago, with the limited technology they possessed; who have seen their lives and land disrupted by war and terrorism; the people who, today, as we pass through every farm and village, run out from their homes and schools, stick their heads out of windows, hold their young children up to watch, and they wave and smile as we pass, excited that their train is running again!

Artisan Villages of the Rio Mantaro Valley

2007-07-23T15:42:00.000-05:00

Rio Mantaro Valley, Peru

On Saturday I went on a tour of the traditional artisan villages in the Mantaro Valley, around Huancayo. Our first stop was to the village of Cochas, where there is a rich and long tradition of gourd carving. The gourds are shipped into the mountains from the coastal areas where they are grown. Once here, they are dried and scorched. The artisans then carve them with woodworking tools.

Color is applied by burning the surface with a torch.

The designs can be quite elaborate, and often tell traditional stories of life in the countryside, such as this design, which depicts the process of traditional weaving - shearing and spinning of the wool, and the weaving itself.

We also stopped in the village of Hualhuas, which is know for its weaving traditions. I got to try my hand at spinning wool, and we got to peek into the weaving studios where much of the work here is produced.

I try spinning wool

Naturally dyed yarn - dyes are made from plants, fruits and vegetables found in the area.

Looms and yarns in the weaving studio.

Ecuador Tries Novel Balance Of Oil And Environment

2007-07-22T20:07:00.000-05:00

Here´s a news story in today´s New York Times about Oil development in Ecuador´s rainforest. The town of El Coca is where the big oil tycoons hang out, and where I took the boat into the rainforest.

Turtles

2007-07-21T18:56:00.000-05:00

The Green Turtle, or La Turtuga Verde in Spanish, lives in the Ocean, and on the Galapagos Islands of Ecuador.

Hi Robbie!

In answer to your question about turtles in Peru: Yes, there are indeed turtles in Peru and Ecuador! Both countries have sea turtles along the Pacific Ocean coast, and there are at least thirteen different species of river turtles in the Amazon Rainforest, which makes up a large part of Peru, and about a third of Ecuador´s land.

I´ve only spent one evening by the ocean in Lima, Peru, and while I was in the Amazon Rainforest in Ecuador, we didn´t see any turtles. Many of the animals are afraid of people, and are difficult to spot. I was surprised about this, because I thought we would see the jungle animal life everywhere. We did see some monkeys, caiman (they are like small crocodiles), tarantulas (on the lodge floor!), and lots of really beautiful colorful birds.

You can learn more about turtles at National Geographic Kids.

A Walk to Torre Torre

2007-07-20T17:52:00.000-05:00

Huancayo, Peru

If you follow Avenida Giraldez to the northeast out of Huancayo, the bustling traffic turns to dusty gravel roads, earthen shacks, sheep, stray dogs, and poor shantytown villages. The trail heads uphill through stands of eucalyptus and wildflowers to the red rock formations known as Torre Torre.

Calling all kids...

2007-07-19T17:53:00.000-05:00

...(Or old kids): What would you like to know about life in Peru and Ecuador? Click on the Comments link at the bottom of this post (or any post) and type a question for me, and I will do my best to answer it in pictures and words. You will get the most interesting response if you make your question as specific as possible. Students: this is worth a BONUS point! (on your summer grade).

Images of Huancayo

2007-07-19T17:20:00.000-05:00

Huancayo, Peru

Here are some images I shot in Huancayo the last couple of days. Enjoy!

Bringing Art to Los Niños

2007-07-18T18:50:00.000-05:00

Huancayo, Peru

Today after weaving class, I accompanied my fellow student, Leslie, to the Aldea Infantil el Rosario orphanage here in Huancayo, where she has been volunteering for the last couple of weeks. Last week she studied spinning and dying wool with natural dyes. This week she´s teaching it to the kids at the orphanage.

Today they were dying yarn with red onion skins that had been prepared by yesterday´s group, and they prepared a new dye for tomorrow's group - with eucalyptus leaves.

The kids loved it, and for young lives that have been filled with sadness, they were quite full of love and life. They loved my camera, and went crazy taking photos of each other (these are their photos).

Staring into 25,000 Pre-Inca Faces

2007-07-17T16:58:00.000-05:00

(15 July)

Lima, Peru

El Museo Larco

Mochica. 1 - 800 A.D. Apogee Epoch Warrior wearing elaborate headdress, a necklace and a shirt of metal plates

Don Rafael Larco Hoyle was born in 1901 to a wealthy sugar hacienda family in Peru. He became intensely interested in exploring the archaeological record of ancient Peru, and became an avid collector of Pre-Colombian ceramic pieces. Larco´s thousands of artifacts eventually ended up in a museum in an old viceroy mansion on Avendia Bolívar in Lima, where I am standing one hour before closing, staring up and down and across the endless shelves of the storage room at over 25,000 faces preserved in ceramics from several Pre-Inca civilizations across Peru.

I stare back over two thousand years at faces of endless variety - sad, forlorn, confused, tired, enraged, on the war path; some appear to have African facial features, others appear to be wearing a Spanish nun´s robes. They sit, frozen in time, still figures on a dusty shelf, until you look them in the eye, and their world comes to life before you, the ocean breeze and the buzz of traffic seeping through the open window.

Weaving in Huancayo

2007-07-17T15:23:00.000-05:00

Huancayo, Peru

I arrived in Huancayo early Monday morning by bus from Lima. My teacher is Margarita, a little old indigenous lady from one of the local villages here in the Montaro Valley of the Central Andes. She and Mercedes come at 9am to teach me and Leslie, my fellow student who comes from Australia by way of living in Japan for the last three years.

Margarita

Margarita and Mercedes are native speakers of Quechua, the indigenous language, but they also speak Spanish with a thick accent, which is hard to make out. We manage to communicate in Spanish, but the learning process is largely visual and tactile. As a teacher, I always find it important to periodically put myself in the student´s shoes again - to remind myself of what my students face when they are struggling to understand or learn something new. Knowing absolutely nothing about this process, and having limited communication abilities, I am definitely finding myself in those shoes!

We are learning a method using what is called a Backstrap loom. What we are producing is a little thin belt or wristband that is woven tightly with thin yarn or thread in geometric designs. The backstrap loom is so called because it is stretched between a post on one end, and the weaver´s waste on the other. The loom is tightened by leaning back, and loosened by leaning forward. The mechanics of how the colored threads are manipulated on the loom is quite complicated. Our first lesson started yesterday with Margarita and Mercedes rather quickly stringing the colored thread on the loom for us. It was all happening very quickly, and I was panicking to keep up with what was going on. I was sure I would never be able to follow along, and that this was all one big mistake.

Once the loom was set up, and the weaving process begun, Margarita handed the reins over to me. There are several steps to the actual weaving process, which repeat over and over. There is a step where one has to reconfigure the order and layers of the colored threads, which gets very complicated. She began by showing me each step at a time, and having me do it. I was entirely lost in the process, but followed what she showed me to do. After an hour or so, the rhythm began to take hold of my fingers, and little by little, the process began to reveal itself. After our second class this morning, I am nearly finished with my first piece, and tomorrow we will go over the setup process, so I can learn how to begin a new weaving on my own.

The ladies are quite fun, and I joke around with Margarita a bit - mostly about what a blockhead she has to teach. Yesterday as we were working, Leslie was making good progress, and she remarked to Mercedes that "That one is learning" (meaning Leslie), but that "This one can´t do anything!" We all had a good laugh, and I think that was the point when they realized that Leslie and I could understand what they said in Spanish. Now they speak mostly in Quechua.

Weaving in the Jungle

2007-07-15T13:49:00.000-05:00

(13 July)

Rio Napo, Ecuador

On our last morning in the jungle, at my request, Dennis takes us out to a little hut down river

where he teaches us how the natives weave using palm leaves and branches...

A Shaman Cleansing

2007-07-15T12:36:00.000-05:00

(11 July)
Rio Napo, Ecuador

Wednesday night offers the opportunity to visit an indigenous shaman for a cleansing ritual, which is supposed to rid the body of evil spirits and impurities. It will cost each person $5 to go, and the catch is that one person must be willing to be cleansed. Harvey, Jason (another Spanish student from Ohio), and I are the only ones who go, and Jason offers to be do the ritual.

Now, this shaman happens to live, very conveniently, a quarter of a mile downstream from the lodge, and shows up once a week - my guess is - to perform more rituals for tourists than for natives (who don´t even live in the close vicinity). I´m doubting the authenticity of this, and feeling awkward about the exploitative nature of viewing a ritual like this out of sheer curiosity, and I imagine the shaman does not particularly enjoy the position of taking money from tourists to give them an exotic little demonstration of what is, for his people, something ancient and sacred, but he accepts the lucrative opportunity as an unfortunate reality of contemporary life here.

...So we paddle through the night until we reach the wooden plank that leads up to the shaman´s hut. It is pitch black except for the stars. Dennis asks us to wait outside as he goes in to greet the shaman. We are signaled up to the hut. We have woken the shaman and his wife, who slept on a thin foam mat in the black night air of the hut.

The shaman shakes off the sleep, picks up a small bottle of something, swishes its contents around in his mouth for a moment and spits it out the door of the hut. His wife hands him a stick of dried leaves. He says he must wait 5 minutes for the medicine to take its effect. He sits on a log stump, and asks Jason to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of him. He asks Dennis to turn off the flashlight. Everything goes completely black. I think of the animals and tarantulas lurking around us in the night, I think of Dennis´machete that he carries everywhere, then I make peace with the blackness, as the deep and ancient drone of a tune rises up from the depths of the shaman´s throat. The song repeats itself rhythmically to the steady swishing of the dried leaves, as the shaman beats them back and forth against Jason´s head.

Drifting back on the dark water, I feel uneasy about the whole thing. I've satisfied my curiosity, but at what expense? So that I can touch the breath of the ancient rites in the black night air, this man comes to perform what he knows is a farce of a request, and in turn, earns the dollars he never needed before to get by in this strange new world. We briefly talk about what we thought of the whole thing. Floating in the canoe, we are drifting souls down a river where we don´t belong, but to which we are compelled by our thirst to know the secrets of the world. On a Wednesday night one week from now, and for many more after, another boat of curiosity-seekers will paddle off into the dark night to visit a hut for a shaman´s cleansing. On the way back, some of them will look up to the stars and search for their place in this complex web of cultural interaction. How are we different from the Texas Oil man on the airplane to El Coca who comes to take the black oil from beneath jungle?

Dos Puntos Rojos

2007-07-15T11:50:00.000-05:00

(9 July)

Rio Napo, Ecuador

Our first excursion into the jungle is by canoe the first night. Robin (from Illinois), Harvey (from Florida) our Spanich Teacher, Paula, and our Guide, Dennis, slip out onto the dark water. The brilliant starry sky reveals itself behind the dark curtain of palm leaves and the jungle canopy above. Insects, frogs, and bird calls fill the air. We are looking for caiman. Dos puntos rojos is what Dennis tells us to look for on the surface of the water.

We spot a caiman sitting on the left bank of the river. Our headlamps are on him as Dennis quietly pulls the canoe over to the shore - within a few feet of the caiman. We are a little close for comfort. Suddenly the caiman lurches forward towards our canoe and dives into the water beneath us. Robin jumps and lets out a shriek! The canoe nearly tips completely over! We take in a ton of water. Dennis pulls us back over to the bank so we can get out (get out!?, I think) and empty the canoe. Suddenly I´m standing in the pitch black on the exact spot where the caiman was just sitting, wondering how many more are hiding in the blackness, hungrily conetmplating my ankles.

Welcome to the Jungle

2007-07-14T14:07:00.000-05:00

(9 July)

El Coca and Rio Napo, Ecuador

8am flight from Quito to El Coca - frontier town ; launching off point into the Amazon Rainforest. Flight is delayed several times - 1.5 hours in the end. We finally lift off from Quito. I'm seated next to the window. In the opposite window seat, a Texas Oil executive is droning on in his southern drawl about the particulars of his company's oil rig operations in the Ecuadorian jungle to his local colleague. Doesn't seem to speak a word of Spanish, and yaks on incessantly into his cell phone to someone at the home office until the second the plane lifts off. I draw my conclusions about how he callously comes to plunder the precious rainforest for his own profit and greed. I want to ask him how he can bear to make his living in this way, but I know that I live within the system of over consumption that drives this type of exploitation down here and puts his tribe on this airplane with me this morning.

25 minutes over the mountains, and we quickly descend into the wet, cloudy green of El Coca and the rainforest. It is pouring as soon as we step out of the small open air room that serves as the airport. A short ride takes us to the boat landing on the wide Rio Napo - a river that flows on into Peru and eventually flows into the Amazon. We will be taking a 45 minute ride down river to the Yarina Lodge on a small offshoot river of the Napo.

Shoes off, and we are sized for our rubber boots - a necessity for this muddy patch of earth and water. As our boat drops two indigenous passengers at their village landing on the main river, we head off from the Rio Napo and into the depths of the jungle. The motor shuts off, and suddenly the jungle comes to life! We are left with the chorus of sounds of birds, insects, frogs, monkeys, and the paddling of muddy water beneath the green cover of palms outstretched over the river. This is it! This is the Amazon I have always dreamed of seeing!

The Hike to Laguna Quilotoa

2007-07-14T12:41:00.000-05:00

(8 July)

Chugchilán, Ecuador

We rise early before setting out and enjoy a bountiful breakfast of yogurt, eggs, cereal, and juice served up by Mama Hilda. At 7:30am our guide, Pedro, meets us at the hostal, and we are off on el camino.

The dirt path drops down quickly into the canyon as we pass group after group of youngsters headed up to the village church in Chugchilán for confirmation preparations. Donkeys, goats, sheep, campesiños - dark-skinned from the high Andean sun, and coated with the dirt and dust of the land. One by one they pass, a Buenos dias exchanged with each passing.

This path of dusty earth their feet know so well, the trail of their existence through generations, centuries, civilizations before them. For us, each step a new revelation - feet groping for the contour of the earth, staring wide-eyed into the fullness of all that unfolds before us. Looking into each pair of eyes as they rise to meet us with a Buenos dias in the crisp morning air. What do they think of these strange-looking, light-skinned lost souls who come to meet them on this morning? I offer my greetings in my attempt to seem natural - as if we meet every morning, and this is my trail as much as theirs. In my attempt to fit into the landscape, I act as if there is nothing strange or foreign about our encounter. The truth is I am completely fascinated by them, and have traveled all these thousands of miles just for this encounter - to set my feet upon their trail and look into the eyes that pass before me on this very morning.

We cross a footbridge over the Rio Sihui. I ask Pedro if we can stop and rest in the sound of the river below. We sit on a high perch above the river, and Pedro asks if we'd like some music. He pulls his small Andean pipes from his pocket and begins to play. The music mixes with the sound of the rushing water below, and rises into the air, where it settles into the landscape of its making: mountain, stream, burro, llama, eucalyptus. Vincent posits a theory that perhaps the pipes served a physical purpose - requiring the player to take short in and out breaths, which aids the flow of oxygen in these high altitudes.

We move on and face the steepest incline of the climb - up the opposite face of the canyon, and the high ridges beyond. At nearly 4,000 meters, every step becomes a physical ordeal. I quickly become intimately acquainted with my level of physical fitness (or lack thereof). Pedro does not show the slightest hint of tiring. I make my way: STEP... STEP... (Racing heartbeat)... Gasp for air (no oxygen)... STOP and REST... REPEAT.

Our hike goes on for about six hours. We pass through high Andean villages, where smoke rises into the thin, crisp air; cemeteries of brilliant white and aqua blue - where los muertos make their final rest in the Andean sky.

Pedro assures us that the hardest part is behind us, and that in un poco mas we will reach el plano - the flat portion of the trail. This conversation will take place at least fifteen times before the trail actually flattens out (which is when we reach our truck at the end of the trail). Poco mas by poco mas, we climb higher and higher, up what seems to be a never ending series of ridges - each appearing on the horizon just as you expect to reach the top. I grow so incredibly tired and oxygen-deprived that I barely take a step each minute.

At long last, our efforts are rewarded with the grand prize: breath-taking (literally!) views of, and a circular loop trail partially around the Quilotoa Lagoon - an alkaline lake formed in a volcanic crater 400 meters below us.

The Bus to Chugchilán

2007-07-13T20:59:00.000-05:00

(6 July)

Latcacunga - Chugchilán, Ecuador

*NOTE: Since I was away from civilization in the jungle, I will be updating posts from the last week to fill in the gaps. Posts and photos from the jungle are on their way!

Bus, Latacunga

We board our bus for Chugchilán at 11:30. It´s more of the real deal than the one we were riding on from Quito. Packed to the brim with campesiños, crates, sacks of grain and beans, potatoes, produce - all stuffed in the aisles, on the roof, and in every free square inch. Vendors climb aboard and push their way up and down the aisle - selling every type of fruit, drink, and ice cream imaginable. The bus takes off, and one by one they drop from the front door to the pavement to run to the next departing bus. A fight ensues when one drink vendor gets stuck in the bus and the driver keeps going. She fights her way to the front and finally jumps off several blocks from the station.

Windng through bumpy dirt mountain roads... the bus stops (slows down to be more exact) every few miles, as people jump on and off with sacks of food and luggage. The rickety door opens and closes, and the bus fills with the aroma of tangerine oil and the dust of the unpaved mountain roads we bump up and down on for several hours.

Finally we arrive at Chugchilán in front of Hostal Mama Hilda, where we are staying for the night. We are shown to our rooms, looking out over the spectacular mountain vista and the deep canyon below.

Walking in Chugchilán

Ricarde, a member of the Hostal family who was on the bus with us, and his younger cousin, Andres, take us out for an hour´s hike down to the canyon rim before dinner. The food that Mama Hilda cooks up for dinner is exquisite (yes - she´s real! And she´s the mama of the family who runs the hostal). (NOTE: Hostal is a Spanish word used for Bed & Breakfast-type inns that are run by families in South America. They are different from what we call a hostel in English. They usually have private rooms, and often serve meals) We turn in early to get ready for our long hike in the morning to the Quilatoa Lagoon.

Chugchilán

Latacunga Market

2007-07-13T20:15:00.000-05:00

(6 July)
Latacunga, Ecuador

Latacunga Market

We stop in Latacunga to change buses en route from Quito to Chugchilán in the Central Highlands of Ecuador. I am traveling with Janake from Holland and Vincent from England. We have a couple hours to wander through the Latacunga Market - bursting with tropical fruits of every variety and highland market foods. We try a sweet fruit like nothing I have ever tasted (whose name I promptly forgot), and maíz tortillas - thick patties of corn meal with oninons and cheese cooked over a hot fire... incredible! Many varieties of bananas and plantains - verdes, maduros, guineaos.

Maduros, Latacunga Market

Latacunga

Tortillas de Maíz, Latacunga Market

Latacunga Market

Spanish!

2007-07-06T21:19:00.000-05:00

Instituto Superior de Espanol, Quito

In Spanish class with my teacher, Maria Elisabeth

...So I´ve been studying Spanish for five days now, at the Instituto Superior de Espanol in Quito. I get up around 7am, have breakfast, and walk down the hill to the Institute, where they have outings exploring the city in the mornings with the other students. There are students from the US, Canada, Britain, Sweeden, Haiti, and Holland this week. Some are staying for a number of months, others, like me, are studying in different spots. I have my classes from 1:30 - 5:30pm. Four hours per day, one-on-one is pretty intensive. My Spanish has progressed more in five days than it ever did in a year and a hslf in college.

The routine goes something like this:

Maria Elizabeth goes over a sheet with about 150 irregular verb conjugations. I recognize some of them from when I studied in college, I know some from their silimarity to English or Italian, I mix some up from their similarity to English or Italian, and I get some completely mixed up with words in Korean.

She then drills me on them and gives me reading and speaking exercises, when I have to use them. For good measure and style, I intersperse a number of different ways of saying that I have no clue:

Yo no recuerdo.

Yo no se.

...and my favorite:

No tengo idea.

Sometimes I take a wild stab by using the English word and throwing a vowel on the end:

Es una booka.

It´s been good fun, and the school is really professional and organized. The teachers know what they are doing, and the directors go out of their way to accommodate whatever needs or interests you have, and make it all a good fun time!

Tomorrow morning I am going on a two-day hiking trip down in the mountains to a lagoon formed by a volcano a few hours south of Quito (organized by the Institute). I´m going with one other student from Holland and a guide. Early Monday morning, I will be flying from Quito to the Amazon for my second week of Spanish courses at the Yarina Lodge on the Rio Napo.

I´m guessing I won´t have a great deal of opportunity to jump on the Internet in the middle of the jungle, so this may be my last post for a while.

Below are some photos I shot this morning walking around the Old Town area of Quito this morning with one of the other students.

Michael

Images of Quito

2007-07-06T20:31:00.000-05:00

Quito, Old Town

Quito, Old Town

Quito, Old Town

Quito, Old Town

Qutio, Old Town

No Fumar (No Smoking)
Quito, Old Town

Quito, Old Town

Quito

Quito

Quito, Old Town

Quito

Quito, Old Town

Quito, Old Town

Over Quito

2007-07-05T18:58:00.000-05:00

Exit

2007-07-05T18:50:00.000-05:00

Telerifico Cable Car Station, Quito

Jesus, etc.

2007-07-05T18:39:00.001-05:00

Quito

La Mitad del Mundo

2007-07-04T19:41:00.000-05:00

Live! From the Middle of the Earth!

...Try this at home:

1. Go to your local equator. Make sure you are EXACTLY on the equator.
2. Balance an egg on the head of a nail. IT WORKS!
3. Now line up a water basin with a drain along the equatorial line.
4. Pour a bucket of water in the basin.
5. Pull out the drain plug and drop a leaf in the water as it drains out. The water goes STRAIGHT down the drain, as does the leaf!
6. Now repeat this process six feet NORTH of the equator. The water forms a COUNTER-CLOCKWISE whirlpool as it drains - the leaf circling around the basin in a counter-clockwise direction.
7. Move the water basin six feet SOUTH of the equatorial line. The water will form a CLOCKWISE whirlpool!

Now for any science teachers (Ahem...) who might be reading this, or purists of other stripes... Some say this is all myth and legend, not scientific fact. Any explanations or debunkifications?

Here´s one explanation for further reading.

Come to the equator and try it yourself!

El Cambio de la Guarda

2007-07-03T19:25:00.001-05:00

The changing of the guard in front of the Presidential Palace and main square in Quito. Monday 11:30am.

Sketches of Quito

2007-07-03T19:00:00.000-05:00

Airplane window shade. Continental shift. Dark evening. Pacific Ocean. Unltramarine. Night sky. Sailing beneath the Southern cross. Orange clusters of light between black mountain ranges. Fireflies in the cupped hands of the Andes. Single airstrip in a sea of valley lights. Old rickety bus coughing black fumes. Brilliant Andean sun. Virgin of Quito, wings outstretched over city below. Broken sidewalk. Verdent green mountains surround. White volcano peak in each direction. Shacks and cinder block houses stacked as high as the thin air allows. Vendors touting their wares from truck megaphone. Kids playing soccer on a gravel field. Buses climbing narrow cobble stone streets stitched up the steep mountainside. Popsicles for sale inside. Pastel colonial buildings, Banana cream, azul and papaya. Shuttered and terra cotta tile roof.

One Week to Go...

2007-06-21T20:09:00.001-05:00

Welcome students, colleagues, friends, family, miscellaneous web surfers!

From June 29 - August 5, 2007, I will be traveling through the ancient land of the Incas in search of some of life's most precious Gold: Knowledge, Experience, and Adventure!

Follow along with me as I study Spanish in the bustling city of Quito, Ecuador and the Amazon Rainforest, learn traditional weaving techniques in the Central Andes of Peru, explore the ancient city of Cuzco, hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu - the lost city of the Incas, and visit Lake Titicaca - the highest navigable lake on Earth, and mythical origin of the Incas.

You may explore my itinerary in the sidebar to the right, and learn more about the sights and activities by clicking on the highlighted links. Check back often to see photos and find out where I'm at and what I'm up to. Feel free to leave a comment or question if you like! Just remember that your reply will be visible to all viewers of the blog.

Come journey with me!

Michael
(Mr. Anderson)