The bitter side of ice cream

Everyone warned me that I would see some difficult things in Peru. When I cam here, I knew that I would see the type of poverty that, from the confines of my first-world, white-middle-class bubble, has been ashamedly easy to ignore.

In the nicer areas of Lima, suffering lurks in the shadows. Last week, I was walking to my friend's house to cook dinner with a bottle of wine in hand, as I passed a child who was picking through the trash two houses down. Although the symptoms of poverty are heard throughout the city, they remain a whisper in the sections of the city that I frequent.

In contrast, poverty screams in Huancayo-- and any attempts to muffle it are useless. Huancayo is an isolated and polluted Andean city that is suffering from ever-exploitation of its mineral resources. There are simply very few ways to make money. On top of that, the clash between the traditional Andean way of life and the capitalist urban lifestyle leaves many people without the appropriate skills to put food on the table. Poverty affects the young and the old the most; in the town square, we were approached by at least five children (between 4 and 6 years old) and one woman in her 60s who spoke only quechua but effectively transmitted the message that she and her children had nothing.

I feel so helpless. At about 10 pm on Sunday, Oliver and stopped at a small cafe and to order ice cream. My cone had two scrumptious scoops: vanilla chocolate chip and chocolate. After I handed cashier 1.50 soles (about $US 0.40) I turned to see two chestnut eyes looking up at me. The eyes belonged to a young girl, whose black hair was ragged and disheveled. Her clothes were worn and ripped in parts, and the two long streaks through the dirt on her face made it apparent that she had been crying. I guess she was about five years old, and she was all alone. As she looked up at me, she held out a couple of sticks of gum, which she offered for sale. As I handed her 1 sol-- less than I paid for my ice cream-- I felt awful. How many brothers does she have that are doing the same thing? Will she get enough money tonight to eat something? When I hand her the money, I feel that I am doing nothing-- what happens when she gets hungry again?

I finish my ice cream, completely useless. The sugar has lost its flavor; now it tastes like gluttony and injustice.

Huancayo, why not go?

After spending two weekends in Lima, I was itching to travel again. So, I boarded a bus to Huancayo, an Andean city seven hours northeast of Lima. Once again, I went with my friend and travel parter, Oliver.

When we chose to go to Huancayo, we intended to spend at least one day in the snowy mountains of the Cordillera Hauytapallana. Unfortunately, we didn't get to do any hiking because the (unorganized and sketchy) travel agency canceled our hike last-minute.

People say that missed opportunities can open the window to new ones, and our trip to Huancayo is an example. Determined not to let a sunny day go to waste, we rented mountain bikes and geared up with helmets from the 80's and bikes that only appeared to shift gears. Before mid-day, we were pedaling out of the high-traffic city of Huancayo and climbing toward the rural town of Cochas Chico.

In Cochas Chico, we met a 75-year-old artist named Leoncino Veli. He has been making masterpieces out of gourds for his entire life, and he has since passed the tradition down to his children and his grandchildren. The artesanos start with an ordinary dried gourd and begin to carve intricate designs with a fine chisel. Once they have finished the carvings, they run a smoldering wooden stick over the surface to create a variety of colors. Most of the gourds are split into smaller frames, which have drawing that tell stories. Some tell bible tales, others detail the process a potato harvest, and another recounts a love story. According to Leoncio, the intricate gourds take over a month to make, and they sell for between $US 50-90.

Oliver and I spent about an hour talking with Leocino and his family-- sharing stories, food, and laughs. Meeting this family and admiring their craft was a main the highlight of our trip.

Indigenous Modernity?

In honor of Human Rights Week, the graphic design students organized a collection of pieces to display in the central courtyard of the university. Even though I still consider myself an outsider to contemporary Peruvian culture, the exhibit's theme was very clear to me; each piece addressed the simultaneous existence of traditional indigenous elements and modern urban society.

One of my favorite pieces was a poster-sized image of a laptop that lay on top of a brightly-colored patterned textile that is typical in Andean areas. The laptop's window was open to "Google," but all of the words were written in quechua. Another image, at first glance, looked like a traditional drawing from the ancient Moche culture that inhabited northern Peru between 100 and 800 AC. However, instead of a scene of ceremonial offerings for an ancient divinity, this drawing depicted a combi, or a small bus that serves as the main mode of transportation in Lima's busy metropolis.

Most of what I have read about Peru's social structure highlights the clash between indigenous and modern cultures-- inferring that the two cultures are constantly struggling to dominate the other. In contrast, the exhibit that my classmates constructed offered a refreshing view that explored the coexistence of cultures to form a new, unique indigenous-modern culture.

Let the Sun Shine!

Looking back on what I have written so far, I have written very little about the city where I actually spend most of my time.

My first impressions of Lima were that it is a gloomy, industrial, and chaotic city. To some extent, these impressions have proved truthful, but in the past three weeks I have come to appreciate Lima as a genuine city with unique characteristics. Nothing is sugar-coated here--what you see is what you get. So, in a way, the grafiitied walls, dirty streets, horn-honking, and girl-whistling is so honest that it is, in a sense, comforting.

Lima's gloomy appearance is due primarily to its climate. To start, Lima is almost always cloudy. When the hot equatorial sun rays beam down on the cold water current that runs from Chile to Lima, excessive evaporation occurs. This evaporation mist turns into low clouds that get stuck between the coast and the Andes and hover over Lima in a permanent, gloomy layer of gray. This is something that is generally accepted here, and it has become such the "norm" that I often forget to tell people at home about it. However, when the sun does come out, it is blissful. Yesterday the sun came out for the second time since I've been here, and it was amazing!

It is also instantly apparent that Lima is dirty-- there seems to be a layer of (sometimes smelly) filth covering all buildings and streets. This, again, is caused by the climactic restrictions. While it often mists in Lima, it hardly ever rains, which means that Lima lacks the "natural rinse" mechanism that most other cities have.

While my opinions that Lima is gloomy have not changed since I've gotten here, many of my other first impressions have. When I first got here, I thought that there were absolutely no rules or regulations for driving. On top of that, it seemed that the Public Transportation systems were system-less. Now, however, I am beginning to learn that there is a relatively uniform and efficient method behind their perceived madness. That said, I think I would have to spend about five more years in Lima before I dare to drive here!

Hooray for Huaraz

Just hours after returning from our exciting yet exhausting trip to eastern Peru, it was time to start classes at the La Universidad Catolica. I auditioned several classes and finally arrived at my final four classes. The UVA in Peru program requires that I take Peruvian Social Reality in English, but the remaining three classes are Universidad Catolica classes that are taught in Spanish. My Catolica classes include: Andean Arqueology, Introduction to the Ecologocal Problems of Peru, and Ecotourism. So far, these courses seem to be a good vehicle for learning for about Peru (and, of course, it's environment).

The start of school brought life back to a more normal pace-- but not for long! Last Thursday and Friday were national holidays, so once again I packed my backpack and headed for the bus station. This time, the destination was Huaraz, which is a small city north of Lima. Huaraz is a hub for outdoor adventure because it rests at the foot of the Cordillera Blanca, the snow-capped White Mountains of the Andes. You'll find Huascaran (Peru's tallest mountain) and Siula Grande (from Touching the Void) in this mountain range. Of course, I couldn't wait to go! I was lucky to meet Oliver, a Canadian exchange student, who also wanted to go, so we set off on Wednesday night.

When you add Meghan to mountains, the trip is guaranteed to be great, but this trip exceeded my expectations. The city of Hauraz is charming and offers a welcome relief from the cold, cloudy, exhaust-emitting atmosphere in Lima. The air was fresh, and the sun came out every day (in contrast to Lima, where I have seen the sun for only 2 hours total) and it was so warm that I could wear sandals!

Huaraz is a high-altitude city at 3000 m, so Oliver and I spent our first day walking around and acclimatizing. We found a modest but cute hostal for about $3.80 US dollars a night. We did take a short walk up the to a mirador, or lookout point, where we could see the entire city from above. On our second day, we hiked to el Lago Churup, which is a lake that lies at the base of some snow-capped mountains. The views were breathtaking, but my favorite part about this hike was the walk through the nearby town of Pitec. At 8 am, we passed a traditionally dressed Andean woman who was washing clothes by hand in a stream in front of her house. When we returned at 2 pm, she was still kneeling by the stream, but this time she was rinsing food for dinner. It was clear to me as we walked by for a second time that, even though we were just feet from each other, this woman and I were worlds apart.

Our third day in Huaraz featured one of the most spectacular hikes that I have ever been on. It took three hours on a bumpy road to arrive at the trial head of El Lago 69, but it was well worth it when we got to the lake. The pictures don't do justice to how phenomenal it was to see snowy mountains and the sapphire lake in the same frame.

We spent the first 4 hours of Sunday at Cafe Andino, a trendy yet touristy cafe with a balcony that looks out to the mountains. Between cups of coffee, Oliver and I read the newspaper, solved sodokus, and chatted the morning away. By the time we got motivated to leave our relaxation station (my hands were jittery from so much coffee) it was early afternoon. We headed north to visit the hot springs in the nearby town of Chancos, but to our disappointment the springs were framed by dirty cement pools rather than natural water holes, so we decided to skip the swimming. Nevertheless, we took a nice stroll by the river that made our afternoon excursion worthwhile.

I could have stayed in Huaraz for months, and I hope to return someday. But, like all good things, the weekend came to an end and we headed back to Lima for some academic action. More to come!