Peruvian hotel basics — coffee, tea, coca leaves.

Another early morning today, as we headed out for another day of volunteering. Today’s program caused much humor among the group: a series of talks about puberty, to be delivered to five different girls’ schools by the doctor in our midst, Jolene. Jolene, Christine (the translator), and the five teen girls in our group set off, with pads and tampons in their bags and varying degrees of embarrassment and consternation.

Meanwhile, the rest of us went back to the Anta Home. Most of the group started painting the chicken coop. Tiffany and I volunteered, with some trepidation, to be in charge of cooking lunch for twenty people. We weren’t sure what ingredients we’d have available to us — and then we found out the ingredients would need to be harvested, by us, from the home’s gardens. (To our relief, Van also said he’d be going into town to pick up rotisserie chicken.) It was definitely a different type of cooking experience than what we were used to, but an exciting challenge!

We spent the next hour or two in the gardens and greenhouses, harvesting carrots, onions, lettuce, tomatoes, beets, rosemary, and oregano; and rinsing potatoes that had been dug earlier. It took another hour to wash everything. Because of potential contaminents in the water and soil, washing food is a serious business here. One of the nuns showed me how to wash the lettuce — dunking and shaking the heads multiple times in a bucket of water, then thoroughly washing every leaf individually under running water, and finally dipping them in another pot of water containing a small amount of bleach. (In general we’ve been warned not to eat lettuce at all here, because of the likelihood of bacteria, so having a salad was a nice change, even if it was extremely labor-intensive.)

Eventually we managed to surmount the challenges of unfamiliar kitchens, limited ingredients, and a language barrier to produce a delicious lunch.  The Puberty Crew returned triumphant, having imparted valuable knowledge and having shared some good conversations with the girls.  (Zoe is getting lots of practice with her Spanish!)  They did their best to counter some of the prevalent old wives’ tales here — for example, that it’s harmful to consume citrus during your period, which virtually 100% of the girls believed.  (We’re doubtful whether they’ll be able to convince their mothers, though.)

Before we left the Anta Home, the girls put on elaborate traditional costumes and performed some dances for us, as well as playing the pan pipe flute.  Then it was lots of hugs and goodbyes.  These girls, the struggles that they face and the spirit that they bring to the world, definitely left its mark on us.

Van had one more surprise in store for us.  A woman he knew, whose village had been helped by his organization, invited us to her home, where she and her sisters produce Peruvian textiles in a totally traditional method.  It was fascinating.  They start with alpaca fur and wash it using a root that grows locally, then spin it by hand.  The women spend pretty much all their time spinning, as they go about other tasks. The rainbow of colors you see in these yarns were produced entirely from natural materials.  The reds, oranges, and purples are all created from the blood of a bug that only lives in the Sacred Valley.  After creating a dye from dried and ground bugs, he showed us how the color would change dramatically by adding various ingredients, like lime juice or certain herbs.  Finally the yarn is threaded onto a loom and elaborate patterns are created.

Zoe and I picked out this beautiful table runner to bring home.

The sisters then served us some traditional Peruvian foods — quinoa, giant corn, giant lima beans, potatoes, and — the piece de resistance — roast guinea pig, which is commonly eaten here because it’s so cheap to produce.  We then went out back to see the guinea pig farm.  Peruvians think Americans are crazy for having them just as pets.

Before…

…and after.

Plaza de Armas, Cusco

This morning we’d checked out of our hotel in Urubamba, and tonight we headed to our new hotel in Cusco.  We saw no fewer than four spectacular rainbows on the way home.  (Conditions of mixed sun and rain seem to be very common here.  We’ve seen a fair bit of light rain, but the sky has never been totally clouded over so there are always rays of sun emerging from somewhere.)

Feliz Cumpleanos a Jolene

For dinner (just appetizers and/or dessert for most of us, as we’d had a late lunch), Van brought us to Incanto, an Italian restaurant near the famous Plaza de Armas.  It’s a beautiful Colonial city square, reminiscent of similar ones we’ve seen in Central America and Quito.  The food was delicious, and we got to celebrate Jolene’s birthday.  Who wouldn’t want to spend their birthday giving puberty talks?  (Though when we raised a toast and Jolene yelled out, “To puberty!”, we did get some odd looks.)

Train to Macchu Picchu

This was the big day we’ve been waiting for, so we didn’t even mind another very early morning.  (Well, maybe Zoe and Caroline minded a little bit.  I’ve been unaccountably waking up around 5 every day anyway.)  Machu Picchu, being a remote Inca city on top of a mountain, is not the easiest place to get to.  After a 5:30am breakfast, we headed on the bus to take us to the train to take us to another bus.

Machu Picchu Pueblo

The train ride was actually pretty cool.  Trains are pretty cool to start with, and this one wound through mountain passes and tunnels alongside a rushing river.  The train had windows all along the top so you could see the mountains, their tops obscured by wisps of clouds, towering on both sides.  Seats were grouped in sets of four with a table in between, so people could chat or play games.  All in all, a pleasant way to spend an hour and a half.

The train brought us to the bustling village of Machu Picchu Pueblo, full of markets and restaurants along the river, which was crossed by picturesque footbridges.  It was a little like Venice in that the lack of cars meant you’d see lot of people moving things around using large handcarts.  (Unfortunately for them, it was unlike Venice in that it’s very hilly here.  Later, eating lunch on the patio, we watched a succession of poor workers pushing overloaded carts up a steep incline outside.)

From there we had to catch a bus that traveled up the side of the mountain, along a series of terrifying switchbacks.  This was somewhat less pleasant than the train, though of course the views were spectacular.  Luckily our bus made it to the top without falling off the side of the mountain.

At the end, a short hike up to the top led us to the iconic Machu Picchu view that you always see photos of.  It was amazing, but Zoe and I agreed it had a strange Disney-like quality because it hadn’t required much physical labor to get here (although at this altitude even short uphill hikes have us gasping) and because there were SO MANY PEOPLE.  All our travels had taken almost four hours, and so we’d arrived at a pretty peak time.

Christine, our local organizer who’s done this a few times, herded us away from the crowds and onto a hiking trail to the Sun Gate.  This immediately took us away from the

Inca Trail to the Sun Gate

throngs and we were better able to appreciate the stunning scenery.  The Sun Gate was the original Inca entrance to Machu Picchu, and the trek is along the original Inca trail.  It’s amazing to think of the effort that was involved in constructing this place and the foot trails that cross the entire region.  The Spanish never conquered Machu Picchu, because of its inaccessibility.

The hike was incredible — gorgeous views around every corner.  We had to stop frequently to catch our breath and take photos.  (Zoe’s cross country and track training served her well here, as she was generally zooming up the mountain while the rest of us panted behind her.)  We took our time getting there and then spent

Caroline and I stop to rest among the clouds

some time sitting at the ruins of the Sun Gate itself, imagining arriving here from the original trail and emerging to behold the sacred city.

Once we headed back down, the crowds had thinned somewhat and we descended into the ruins.  The Inca had amazing construction skills — modern scientists still don’t understand how they were able to build what they did using the tools that they had.  (One of the local stories is that they were helped

At the Sun Gate

by aliens.  Another theory is that they figured out how to turn rock liquid.)  Their astronomical knowledge was way ahead of the Europeans, and their building sites are precisely aligned with the directions of the compass and/or the path of the sun.  All that knowledge was wiped out when all the leaders were indiscriminately slaughtered by the Spanish.

On the left side you can see the road that bus takes.

On our way to the train Van had told us about an alternate route back down to Machu Picchu Pueblo — the original Inca steps set in the side of the mountain.  Mainly at Zoe’s urging, a group of six of us decided to try it.  Zoe and I, Ann and Shannon, and Tiffany and Ethan set off on foot down the trail, leaving the others to take the bus.

It was a cool experience following the path of the Inca, although tough on the legs and knees.  I don’t even know how many steps it was, but some very large number.  (It’s now three days later and my calves are still aching.)  Given that they were constructed of somewhat uneven stone, it was a tough trek, but we had a great sense of victory when we finally landed alongside the river.  (It was somewhat dampened when we realized we then had a

Inca steps

mile-long walk back to town, but it was flat and lovely, along the rushing whitewater of the river.)

The weather is interesting here.  The temperature itself is not very high — highs in the sixties, much colder in the mornings and evenings — but being as high as we are, the sun is very strong.  So when it’s out, we’re stripping layers and sweating (and for some in our group, getting sunburns), and when it dips behind the cloud or starts to set, we shiver and the layers come back on.  On the walk back a light, misty rain was intermittently falling.

Back in town we had a late lunch, did a little shopping and exploring, and then repeated the morning’s transportation in reverse.  By the time we arrived back, no one was interested in dinner — just showers and bed.

Maras Salt Mines

The view from outside our room.

Despite the exhaustion of the past couple of days, I woke up at 4:30am this morning (having gone to bed at 8:30).  Once it was light out I stepped outside to get a look at our hotel, which we’d seen only in darkness the night before.  It did not disappoint.  It’s built in a 17th century monastery, with old stone walls, twisting passages, and flowering courtyards.  Mountains tower over it on all sides.

Another view into the Sacred Valley.

Today we were easing into our volunteer service with a visit to the Anta Home for Girls, a home run by nuns for girls who are orphaned or whose families can’t take care of them.  Our Peruvian leader, Jaime, was very anxious that we arrive on time.  (“The nuns,” he said, “they are not relaxed about time.”)  But on our way to the bus our American leader, Van, couldn’t resist a quick side trip into the backyard of the hotel to show us the “center of magnetic resonance” (I’m still not sure what that means), an area low in the ground with a strange stone structure that is apparently some sort of ancient massage chair.  He wanted us all to try it to see how comfortable and relaxing it was, so we were a little late for the nuns.

Luckily they didn’t seem to hold it against us.  The little girls at the home were thrilled to see Van, who visits regularly.  They poured into the van, full of smiles and hugs for everyone.  Despite their difficult circumstances, they seemed to be some of the happiest children I’ve come across.

Today the adults were working with newborns, giving baths and supplying new diapers and outfits.  The teens had a great time running around with the little girls from the home, painting nails and playing tag.  When we were heading out for a tour, a little girl beckoned us in to the courtyard — and we found ourselves in a raucous jump rope competition.  Caroline gets extra credit for attempting to jump with a small child on her shoulders.

Later a volleyball game broke out, and we were amazed at how good the girls were and wondered how they’d learned.

Then Mother Superior arrived:

How cool is this nun?

After leaving the girls, with promises to return in a couple of days, Van took us to the Maras Salt Mines.  (I should mention here that all our travels are by bus, and (1) that the views are so incredible all the time — the towering mountains are never out of sight; and (2) the bus drivers here deserve some kind of medal.  Our driver has had to navigate narrow, winding streets with literally only a few inches of clearance on each side, and, more concerningly, narrow dirt mountain roads with sheer drops that are two-way but not wide enough for two cars.  One of our scariest moments was when we were on such a road, headed to the salt mine, on the outside lane, and saw another bus approaching from the opposite direction.)

Anyway, the salt mines were incredibly cool.  At a place where warm, salty water runs out of the mountains, the Inca built a huge system of terraces (these guys were the masters of terraces) and an irrigation system so that salty water could be routed into a shallow pond and left to evaporate, leaving a harvest of salt.  There are a vast number of ponds that are owned and farmed by individual families from the area.

Native Peruvian hairless dog. Called by our guide, “the ugliest dog in the world.”

We hiked down to and along the salt terraces, sometimes on a very narrow path with a stream on one side and a drop on the other.  We made it all the way down to the bottom of the Sacred Valley to the river.  Zoe declared it the “coolest day ever”.

Bonus pic: Grumpy llama.

Cusco overlook

Sunset over New England

Zoe and I have started our adventure, a nine-day trip to Peru with several others from our town and the organization Generations Humanitarian.  Turns out that getting 13 people from New Hampshire to Peru is quite an accomplishment.  We knew it would be a very long day, but didn’t know quite how long.  We were split over two flights from Boston to New York, and the five of us on my flight were trying to make the best of a 3+ hour layover by planning for a nice sit-down dinner at JFK.

Sunrise over the Andes

Alas, it was not to be.  Somehow (we still don’t know how), in getting from our arrival terminal to departure, we managed to go through security and thus found ourselves back on the wrong side.  Zoe’s friend Caroline is traveling without her parents, and they’d told us she’d need to get a boarding pass at the gate — so that meant we had to wait in the long checkin line since she couldn’t get through security.  (It was very lucky we’d realized at the 11th hour that we needed a special form signed by Caroline’s parents, or the day would have gone much, much worse.)  Back to security again — only to have them refuse to accept the boarding passes that Zoe and I had printed off at home because they had the wrong airline on them (our two flights were on different airlines).  This time the line was even longer.  By the time we actually go to our gate, we were lucky to have a few minutes to buy cold, soggy sandwiches.  (Turns out we even could have held off on that, since Latam Airlines unaccountably decided to serve dinner after we’d taken off — at 1 am.  We decided to pass.)

Caroline is skeptical of the giant corn kernels

After a third flight from Lima to Cusco, we had finally arrived.  We’ve been hydrating like crazy to avoid the effects of the 11,000+ foot altitude, and in Cusco started chewing coca leaves, the local remedy.  The weather is beautiful — sunny and around 70.  Our first stop was a restaurant with huge plate-glass windows looking down on the city.  Our trip leader Van set us up with a six-course meal of foods that are traditional here, and it was so much fun to try all the different courses.  Among other things, our meal included coca tea, a plate of giant corn kernels (I mean GIANT) with some kind of cheese, a soup, and a crazy, but surprisingly good, kind of purple juice

Alpaca! The entree reminded us of the $7 Galapagos dinners we enjoyed so much. I don’t want to break it to Bob that our six-course meal here only cost $7.50.

made from some kind of fermented corn juice, pineapple, and cinnamon (chicha morada).  Zoe and I bravely elected to try the alpaca steaks, and they were amazingly good — tender and flavorful.

After that we hopped back on our bus to travel from Cusco to the Sacred Valley.  It’s at a slightly lower altitude to help us adjust, but in order to get there we had to cross a pass at 13,400 feet.  (Our trip’s leader, Van, told us that planes are required to use oxygen at 13,000.)  There were amazing views around every corner and green peaks rising sharply on all sides.  All the

Sacred Valley

mountainsides, however steep, seem to be covered with vertical lines — a remnant of the agricultural terraces built by the Inca.

We made another stop at the semi-famous market at Pisac, where we found amazing woolens and textiles.  We picked up some great bargains, though after a while Zoe and I had to go into hiding, exhausted from the hard sells and our weak attempts at bargaining.  At the end Van took us to a shop where they had original pottery from the Incas and before — available for $60 or less.  (No, I am not going to attempt to bring that home in my suitcase.)

Pisac Market. Zoe is sporting her new alpaca sweater.

We were all grateful to eventually get back to our hotel, exhausted and desperate for showers.  We’re staying at an old monastery in Urumbamba in the Sacred Valley.  We couldn’t see much when we arrived after dark, but I’m guessing it’s beautiful.

Our options for dinner turned out to be a mile-long walk into town or the hotel’s fancy restaurant — so Zoe, Caroline and I unanimously opted for room service and an early bedtime (and the best and most-needed shower in the history of the world).  Tomorrow we start our volunteer service at the Anta girls’ home.