Well, my grandma thinks that the picture I have attached to my writing makes me look like a gremlin. Considering how immersed I have been in Harry Potter lately, perhaps I am one. Once I´m done, and free of jetlag and altitude sickness--mainly hitting me in the form of wanting to pass out every five minutes--I will have the vim and vigor to explore my new surroundings a bit more thoroughly. But I keep telling myself, I have time.
It is sad that we are leaving for Arequipa, "La tierra del Condor", in a few days--on Friday. Not only will we have to semi-relearn our workplace, though Oscar keeps assuring us that every Maximo Nivel is the same... but John and I have really become enamoured of Cuzco.
Orientation takes two hours a day, and we mainly go over the curriculum that we will be thrown into on Monday. The majority of our time so far has been curled up at the Perez Residencia, home of Marco and Yoko (!) Perez and their parents and adorable son, Toni, who just turned three last night. The whole compound habitates an entire family, and I am reminded of what seems to be missing in a lot of American culture--this sense of staying intact with the family structure, of spending grand amounts of time together.
Of course, the Dukes blow this out of the water.
But the Perez place has been warm and beautiful. Smells of cooking and a fireplace wafting upstairs. I have met some of the other volunteers, all of whom are here for much shorter stints. But then, they´re not getting paid. Mainly well-intentioned if somewhat juvenile at times young women. Who recount with giggles tales of tequila and tattoos in a manner that I am familiar with having studied abroad. Still, they´re very nice, and I have no complaint.
I´m hoping to volunteer some myself in between our working hours. Once I can stand on my own two feet without panting.
It took a little red-faced explanation in my broken spanish to explain to Marco´s father that John is not, infact, my husband, with the shared knowledge that we are sharing a bedroom.
A strange calendar with a picture of Fujimori, the fallen ruler, and his endorsement of a 2006 candidate distracts me as I eat my meat, rice and boiled water.
On the side of the mountain plares a manmade message, ¨Viva el Peru Glorioso", as vans filled to the brim zoom by, honking with eagerness at anyone who looks like they might step into the calle, the colorful houses on the hill growing invisible with the pink, then orange, then dimming sky. It gets dark around six, which took some adjusting.
My camera has inexplicably decided to stop turning on... again. So pictures are forthcoming. The capricious piece of crap, however, is the least of my concerns at this point.
The dogs around here really are a sad thing to see... Mangy, deserted, unapprochable and overabundant, lifting up their sorrowful eyes from a mound of dirt as if you might be the one to throw them some food. But I don´t dare touch; I have already been warned plenty.
John and I went to a former Inca Temple called, in Quechuan, Qorikancha, which then became El Convento de Santo Domingo del Cusco when Pizarro´s brother Juan donated it to the Domincan order. Ole Pizzarro himself was so kind to take all the gold out before, so that those monks wouldn´t have to bother with it, in 1532. So nice of him!
Rumors have it that some treasures escaped Spanish plunder and remain undiscovered, but it´s hard to believe as Japanese and German tourist march through the halls and the great central garden. The architecture is by Tawantinsa stone workers, and the halls are decorated with Spanish art, including an anonymus 1569 sculpture of a very pregnant Virgin Mary.
John was captured by the exhibit on regional instruments, like trumpets made of shells. I was fascinated by a drawing of the Incan astronomy. They worshipped deities that were heavenly bodies and meteorological phenomenons.
"Mayu" is the term for celestial river--the milky way. And all the dark spots in the Milky Way are thought to be animals coming to drink from Mayu. Snakes here are not villainized. The star of the snake is called "Macha Cuay," and I notice that many instruments are in the shape of a divine water snake.
This city feels less full of tension and hostility than, say, Atlanta. Perhaps that´s my sunny illusion based on my being foreign.
But anyway, it will be nice to have finally settled into a space that is fully our own. But for now, I miss you all, but I´m so glad we came.
- Lex
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