Friends, finally.

Renee, Francisco, Pablo, Pancho, Lindsey, Catie, Ashley, Mia, Me, Lindsey

It's the first week of month number 3 and I officially have 11 friends! Normally I would think, How sad... but making actual Chilean friends in Chile has proven to be more difficult that I thought. BUT ever since the ball got rolling, now I have things to do all the time and people to be with! Fantastic! Francisco (aka Pancho), Francisco, and Pablo are some of my closest friends here... they took us to a beautiful beach/lake called Laguna Verde which is completely untouched, uninhabited, and pretty much just virgin. I wish you all could appreciate with your own eyes how beautiful it is.

There's this cove of bright blue water surrounded by rocks and seagulls and mountains. And then, a small lake (lagoon, I guess you'd say) that is bright clear, like looking into an old green bottle. We're going back there in a few weeks to camp. Fabulous. 

Faces

I've come to the conclusion that there must be the face or the essence of everyone you know, everywhere you go. Each day I live here in Chile I think to myself, "I wonder who I'll see today?" For example, the other day Brad Zabel drove up my street. I've seen Daniel Massoglia on the metro and I traveled around Peru with a mixture of Haley and Katja. It's so interesting to me how the brain works this way, relating everything new to what it already knows. It's both an instigator and a cure for homesickness. On the one hand, I see people I think I know and wish I could be home with the freedom to run up to them and shout loudly into their ears "Hey how are you doing?!" And on the other hand, why miss home when everyone I know is right here with me in Chile in spirit and in remembrance. This is my time to be here and to do the things I can't do in the States, like walk to the beach and read, or have lunch for hours with my host family, talking about every topic under the sun. Seeing this illusion all the time is a fun game, but it's also like I'm being told, "We're all here with you, now go on." I think that these faces are what is getting me, and what will get me through being a year abroad. 

More thoughts on Peru

When I crossed the Peru/Chile border, the change was immediate. The people were clearly from an indigenous line, the currency was in soles, the time flew backward an hour (unbeknownst to us.) I was so struck with how open, warm, and welcoming the country was. I didn't feel like people gawked at me like they do in Chile. Los Peruanos (Peruvians) speak English so much more clearly than Chileans (In English, compare a southern accent with a crisp Indian accent.) All of a sudden, I could understand everything everyone said without feeling like I was putting the common people out of their way. And they were so nice and smiley! 

In Peru my group seemed to always be on the go, and therefore we did get to see a lot of places. I think our final transportation count was around 16 or 17 buses, 11 taxis, 2 minibuses, 2 planes, 1 train, and lots and lots of walking. 

In  Aguas Calientes we woke up at 3:15 am to hike up to Machu Picchu. 

We didn't exactly know what we were getting ourselves into. We walked down (guided by my headlamp) to the beginning of the 15ish (more?) s-curves which led up to the mountain to MP. We climbed what seemed like a million steep rock steps in the dark. There was wheezing, sweating, and some complaining, but this was only a warm-up to our day. At 5:30am we arrived at MP's gates. I was number 38 out of the first 400 people to be allowed in to climb Wayna picchu (the tall mountain towering over the ruins in all of the famous pictures of Machu Picchu.) Wayna picchu was truly a test of strength and character. 

We started by climbing another never-ending set of steep rock stairs that hugs the side of the tremendous mountain. The stairs had a width of about 4 feet, sometimes without a handrail (Mom, this isn't for you.) We could choose to go straight up to the top, or to go down to the "Great Cave" (not a cave.) and then go back up to the top. We thought, "Neat." so down we went, not realizing that this cavern

would take us nearly back down to ground level, losing nearly all of the previous advancement we'd made on climbing to the top.We finally got down to the cave, which was a rock undercut with piles of pebbles underneath. The view was gorgeous, as always. Mountains, ridges, and peaks coated in a lush green and highlighted by a bright blue sky. We sat and ate some chirimoyas for a while (a fruit.) Then we started our ascent back up the mountain, which at this point was pretty much straight up. But somehow, it didn't feel especially difficult. Our legs and backs were tired, but not exhausted, It was like we were on autopilot. Reaching the top of Qaynapicchu was like gasping deeply and holding the air in your chest. We had a 360 degree view of Peru, her mountains, and the ruins of Machu Picchu. 

One thing we noticed was how we couldn't see a single house or building in the huge expanse of mountains all around us. The only signs of human life were the ruins, the road to MP, 

and the hydroelectric plant, which wasn't even a huge eyesore. No sign of mountaintop removal, no summer homes, no electrical lines, just pure vegetation and greenery. Hiking back down was hard on the kneeds but definitely rewarding. I wasn't able to find a worthy copy of "The Heights of Machu Picchu" by Pablo Neruda, but I wrote my own little entry. Here it is:

"I am absolutely in awe of the beauty, the intricacy, and the architecture of this place. Surrounding me on all sides are towering mountains of greens, grays, whites. It looks as if this land's creator decided to drape moss over every peak and groove, giving the effect of having spread thick green icing on a cake. And suddenly from the mountains appears this amazing labyrinth of stones. Stones piled, stacked upon stones. I climbed Waynapicchu. I have never before climbed so many stairs. But each stair solidified my thoughts and satisfactions for actually having made it to this stoney, grassy paradise. We couldn't have picked a better day to come, but in hindsight, MP requires two trips. One for Waynapicchu, and one for Machu. I wish I could have a tour of these ruins so that I could understand a little about Incan history. There are so many rooms, windows, and stairs. This place is just such a mystery as far as why it's here, how the Incans lived. I could just stand here and stare at these mountains all day long. Machu Picchu seems to be the perfect mix of nature and man-made figures."

On our way to Cuzco from Aguas Calientes, we decided to walk along the railroad tracks (free instead of paying another $70 to take the train) for 3 hours. Best decision ever. We had so much time to reflect, walk, and gawk at the mountains above us and the river (Rio Vilcanota) to our left. We even 

had some time for a swim!

In our hostel in Cuzco, we happened to flip the TV to The Emperor's New Groove. We watched Cuzco in Cuzco! Hah! Also, we made a friend (Rachel, here with me eating a strange fruit that was like white-hair covered seeds in a pea-pod... they were like eating sweet slimy cotton candy.)

New foods I tried in Peru: Alpaca, guinea pig, some type of hard boiled birds eggs with spicy sauce (SAUCE!) -- Quail-like?, pea pod fruit, raison tamales, goat cheese. 

SUDDEN THOUGHT! The Decemberists (one of my favorite and relatively bands) are playing on our radio right now!!!! Congratulations Decemberists! You've made it to Chile! (My friends and Haley will appreciate this comment.)

(This is how the indigenous Peruvian women all hold their babies, like papooses on their backs. I bought a belt from her.)

Oh the Glories of Peru!

Coca tea for high altitude sickness

Watching the condors in Colca Canyon at Cruz del Condor (6 ft wingspan!)

Machu Picchu Ruins!

Machu Picchu! See that mountain towering over? That's Wayna Picchu. I hiked that.

I'm home from Peru after traveling to Machu Picchu, and may I just say that Peru is the most beautiful country I have ever seen. Granted, I have only seen a total of 4 countries in my life. But oh my goodness, I am in love with Peru. I'll say a little bit more about my trip when I have more time to post, but here are some of my favorite pictures from the trip.

Machu Picchu!!

I leave for Machu Picchu, Peru tomorrow for 8 days! What an adventure, I can't wait!!!

Here's a rough sketch of my itinerary if you care to follow along with me:

Wednesday, Sept. 9th 9:30pm: Bus from Vina to Santiago, wait in airport for a long, long, long time.

Thursday, Sept. 10th 4am-6:40am: Flight from Santiago to Arica (north Chile)

Buses crossing the border, from Arica to Tacna, to Arequipa, to Cuzco, Peru

Friday, Sept. 11th 7am-11am: Train from Cuzco to Aguas Calientes

Bus from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu, hostel in Machu Picchu

Saturday, Sept. 12th: Stay in Machu Picchu, hike it, dance around, recite From the Heights of Macchu Picchu, by Pablo Neruda (look it up, now

Sunday, Sept. 13th: Bus from Santa Theresa to Cuzco, hostel it up in Cuzco

Monday, Sept. 14th: Bus from Cuzco to Arequipa

Tuesday, Sept. 14th-Thursday, Sept. 17th: Live with Indigenous Andians

Thursday, Sept. 17th: 4pm-9pm Bus from Arequipa to Tacna, from Tacna (Peru) to Arica (Chile)

Friday, Sept 18th: 1am-3:40am: Flight from Arica to Santiago

Bus from Santiago to Vina del Mar!

And then we exhaustedly will enjoy Chile's independence day, Sept. 18th!!

For those of you who have no idea what Macchu Picchu is, here are some pictures, soon to be followed by my own, if my camera is not stolen:

Alpaca! Boy oh boy oh boy.

Galletas!

Me and Fernanda

The First Batch (Flaites--word for ghetto, cheap,poor)

Finally!

Renee and I decided to make Nestle Tollhouse cookies as a treat for our host families. It was pretty hard though because no one here cooks with measuring cups. The first batch had way too much butter and not enough flour. The next batches were tasty though!! Renee's seven-year-old host sister Fernanda helped us by stirring (tried to help with a lot more but somethings, like cracking eggs, maybe shouldn't be done by impatient youngin's who are only interested in eating batter.) 

For those of you who were wondering...

I received a request to paint a picture with words that describes where I live (Aunt Ana). Here you go:

To get to my house is simple, really. The metro station that runs up the main street (Alvarez) all the way into the city of Valparaiso has a stop right in front of our street (Cantera... meaning Quarry.) Walk along Cantera and do not expect the houses to have the same pampered lawns and breezy porches that we have in the South. The houses are gaited and sit side-by-side like Legos placed together, each second story placed directly on top of the first. They're like little rectangular cakes. At the end of the first block is a tiny shop where we buy our bread, and where I buy chocolate alfajores (a cookie covered in chocolate with "manjar" or dulce de leche in the middle.) Besides this shop is a fast food shop that sells hamburguesas and "completos" -- cheap 1 foot long, delicious hot dogs smothered in cheese, tomatoes, and palta (avocados.) Yes, I've eaten one. 

To the left of this food joint is a construction site where workers are busy all day everyday building a set of apartments. They pause only to hoot or toodle their truck horns at the embarrassed Americans scampering innocently by. On the curb, every day without fail, lounges a little white and brown dog. He's a terrior mix, I suppose. He reminds me of Bandit. He can always be found laying in the street, basking in the afternoon sun with with one arm resting peacefully on the curb. Always watch out for dog poop. 

Finally, as you keep going you'll reach our gate on the left, Cantera 537, Condominio Garden. A small L-shaped line of houses form a community of independent families. Our house is the first on the left, number 1. Columba, the golden-haired fox of a dog is waiting by the door, rear end wagging. Upon entering the tiny house be careful to avoid the wind-chimes that are waiting to touch your face and alert the entire family that you've arrived home. The staircase is immediately to the right. The entire downstairs is comprised of a sitting area, the dining area (separated form the sitting area by a stained glass panel,) the tiny kitchen, my room, and one bathroom. Paintings done by my host mom and her brother adorn the walls with similar brushstrokes and oil dabs. The rooms are all decorated with candles, incense, potted plants, and an occasional statue of Buddha. 

Enter my room. I don't know how they fit my bed in there. On the left is a large wooden closet with sliding doors. On the right is my bed. To glance around my tiny bedroom is to realize how much art can live within the simples of things. My walls appear to be hand stuccoed. Finger marks of swirls cover my walls as if someone were trapped in here with wet stucco and no door. Directly in front of my bed is a large swirl of finger prints and the darkest layerings of yellow, all encircling some painted shape that appears to be the top of a coconut. One could just as easily argue that there is a windshield-sized yellow swirling breast painted onto my wall. To the left of my bed hanging on the wall is a painting done by my host uncle, Lucho. This painting is a series of dark rectangles containing obscure and unclear scenes with human-like shapes. I didn't understand it until I made the mistake of asking him to explain the war with Pinochet. I had no idea that he had been taken and tortured by Pinochet's soldiers. He told me that this painting is his life story.

The window behind my bed looks directly out onto the fenced patio where our clothes are washed and dried, and where all of the adults smoke, chat, and drink late into the night. The roof covering the patio is plastic and extremely noisy when it rains. If one drop of rain falls, imagine hearing an acorn fall on a tin roof. I love it. Out of my room and to the left is the kitchen. There is just enough room in there for three people to stand in a line to stir soup, chop celery, and make coffee. Above the sink is a fickle contraption called the "Calefont" which is essentially a stove used to light your showers. One doesn't get hot water by merely turning a tap. This took me a while to master.

If you go upstairs you’ll find the rest of the bedrooms. In at 6x4 square of hallway, the computer sits, half-blocking the doors of the two bedrooms on either side. (Imagine the episode from “Friends” where Joey constructs an entertainment center that is so wide that he and Chandler run into it while trying to sleepily exit their bedrooms.) To the right of the desk is upstairs bathroom/shower; to the left is Juanita’s room. She’s an engineering major… She keeps mathematical equations pasted to her ceiling for further studying. The two televisions of the house are in Yoly’s and Ian’s room. There is no one room in which to sit on a couch and watch TV as a family. Television watching is done in bed.

From my bedroom at any point in the day I am sure to this collection of sounds: stray dogs competing for the next spot on Latin American idol, the neighborhood senile rooster, the radio from the neighbors beside us, colectivos (like taxis) going up and down the street. One funny memory (and recently solved mystery): While taking a shower the first morning that I was here, I heard a man call out “Allo!” It would get louder and softer as he walked through the neighborhood. He’d say it about every 30 seconds. I thought to myself, “Is he in trouble? Is he insane? Do Chileans just wander through the streets greeting people? “Allo! Today is a new day! Get out of your showers!” The other day at dinner I posed this question to my host family and got a huge laugh in return. Apparently, the man yells, “Diarioooooo!” meaning, “Newspaper!” The paper isn’t just delivered to any and every house. Well, that cleared up that question really fast.

  I know this entry is super long and I apologize, but it’s been a while since I’ve posted so I’m overflowing with stories. For some reason, the most recent series of stories seems to include me falling down. Here is the newest occurrence:

I was walking home yesterday from my university after a day of feeling pretty sick intestinally (I’m going to leave that to the imagination.) The stairs of the metro station is a common after-class hangout spot for a horde of high schoolers. I walk past them and get to the stairs, and suddenly, I trip over my own feet. I landed hard on my knee, dropped my metro card and busted open my right thumb. Pretty much what the high schoolers saw of my fall was a blonde gringo making her way to the metro stairs and suddenly, lurching forward and down, out of sight past the metro wall. It was the kind of fall where all of your hair flies in front of your face and it looks like your chest has been yanked forward with a rope. I stood up quickly, and called out “Estoy biennnnn!” to the semi-concerned/really-just-trying-not-to-laugh-but-are-actually-laughing-really-hard-behind-their-hands listeners. What a time to fall down! I looked down and saw that somehow the skin on top of my thumb had parted like the red sea and was oozing blood. I had to get on the metro to go home, and public bathrooms and faucets here are pretty much none existent. So I cupped my thumb in my hand and caught the metro. It’s hard disguising a bloody hand in a public place full of people who are already staring at you because you’re foreign. I feel like I hid it pretty well, but I know I dripped blood on the clean metro floor. So there’s one chapter of my falling adventures!

 

My plans for Machu Picchu are coming along! We’re planning to stay with some indiginous tribes for a few days while we’re in Peru. That should be interesting, but I’m wary of it being very touristy. I’m currently hostel hunting. More news later!