PERU YEAR 2000 PART II, MY MIND REELS WITH MEMORIES

In Part II of my memory from our trip to Peru in the year 2000, we will be exploring the Arequipa area. This is where I met Deysi 21 years prior to this trip, and where she swept me from my feet. Who could hardly blame her! Anyway, let’s begin. As I said at the end of Part I, we took the overnight Ormeno Bus Lines, from Nazca. After flying over the lines, we had spent the rest of the day looking at local sights. We found some very intriguing burial sites in the desert. In this part of Peru, the Atacama Desert is so dry that basically all remains were “desiccated” and preserved, much like a mummy. I always tease Deysi, that these sites we have discovered, over time, contain her relatives. Who knows, could be, right?

It was about 10pm when we finally boarded. Everyone was a bit grouchy, except for me. And as promised, after a somewhat hot, and cramped ride, it deposited us in downtown Arequipa at the crack of dawn. The kiddies managed some sleep, but I don’t think the rest of us got more than a couple of hours. If my memory does not fail, I believe C and The Kiwi read most of the trip. I remember tossing and turning trying to find a comfortable bone to sleep on. One thing that Deysi reminded me of; was that the “on board” toilet was out of water, about 15 minutes after leaving. Trust me on this, you didn’t want to read the newspaper in there! All in all though, the ride was pleasant, and in itself, a great adventure.

Finally here we are, Arequipa, Peru at 7:00 am in the morning. Here, of course the day was in full swing. The street vendors were shrieking, the taxis growling, the trucks grinding, roosters crowing, roof dogs barking, everyone blaring their horns and pretty much all was normal. And down the street came the newspaper seller, hollering out “La Prensa, La Prensa, La Cronica” in that same annoying voice as I remember from all those years past. I am sure, to our guests, the sounds of Arequipa, coming alive in the morning, seemed chaotic.

Deysi had somehow got us into our accommodations early. We stayed just off city centre, in a place called La Casa de mi Abuela. This hotel was a converted mansion. Everything was built around an inner courtyard. It was rustic and beautiful. I remember sitting in the gardens, smelling the smells and absorbing the sounds of Arequipa. I felt home once again and could not wait for the action to begin. By this time, much of Deysi’s family had emigrated to Canada. However, there still remained a large contingent of her brother (Arnie’s) family, to meet us and show us around. Additionally, Deysi’s father was home, to Peru, at the same time as our trip. As was always the case, he chaperoned us around Arequipa.

Once again, not long after our arrival, Rosco provided us with another fine memory and some great laughs. The occasion was our first family dinner. What happened, was that we wanted to visit one of our favorite restaurants, and have everyone meet our friends. Inevitably, on our visits to Peru we would end up at some point in the restaurant, Sol De Mayo. This, because it was my first, memorable, restaurant in Arequipa after arriving there in 1978. It was here that I ate my bowl of “chicken head” soup, so many years before. We gathered the clan, and spirits were high. Inevitably, there was lots of discussion over the menu.

At one point, Deysi pointed out that the roasted Cuy (Guinea Pig) was on offer. As soon as she finished the description, of this delicacy, Rosco, declares, “that’s what I’m having!” The Kiwi tries to help him select something a little more conventional, however he was not to be deterred. By now his enthusiasm was boundless. Roast Cuy, it was, for Rosco! And, that is what ultimately landed in front of him. After we all had a great laugh at Rosco’s discomfort, it was time to dig in. “Hold it”, he says, “you gotta be kidding, right?” “You don’t really expect me to eat it do you?” Everyone was encouraging him to eat. He pushed it around a couple of times, on his plate, but never really tore off big chunks and got the grease rolling down his chin..

At one point, after a few tentative nibbles, Deysi’s nephew, Nono, tried to help Rosco’s appetite. This, by removing the Atuqcha (little fox) bone from the cuy’s head. If you are lucky enough to get the head, then you can chew around, rip and tear it until you find this coveted piece. It is meant to bring, the eater, good luck. I’m not sure if it works and have never, personally, had the desire to dig around in a cuy’s head. However, Quechua legend in the Andes, insists this to be true. Our first meal with our friends and Deysi’s family in Arequipa was a great success, and turned Rosco into a “gringo” legend.

The next day, was spent exploring the wonders of Arequipa. This was a city founded in the early 1500’s, by the Spanish in their quest for Peruvian gold. There are a lot of sights! From the ancient convent (at Santa Catalina), to the main Plaza de Armas and the sights of downtown. Then from Mount Misti, a sleeping volcano on the edge of the Andes, to the Atacama Desert, on the western borders of the city. If one has a love for history, then this is the place to be. And as I have previously said many, many times, “the food is exquisite”. Paired with a couple of Pisco Sours, Peru’s food, rivals any in the world. Perhaps I am a little biased, but I believe I am qualified to comment on food and drink around this world. Lord knows, I have tried both, in many places.

After a full day sightseeing in Arequipa, Deysi had organized us a trip into the Andes. We were going to retrace the route along the Colca Canyon, where Deysi and I had met, a lifetime before. The plan was to spend a couple of days up at elevation and rediscover the magic that had kept me enthralled with Peru and the Andes mountains, ever since. And also, to show our friends where we had worked, those many years before. When I first arrived up in the Andes in 1978, there was little there. For the most part, roads into much of the area were created by us, on our Project. I understood, from Deysi’s brother Arnie, before we left, that things were much changed from what I remembered.

According to Deysi’s brother, the Colca Canyon was becoming quite a tourist attraction, with people from around the world visiting. The infrastructure was much improved. A town (named Chivay) that was mainly used, to house local labor, and store materials, was now a tourist city. It even had a tourist hotel. I was pumped to see it. We had a great 8 passenger van and driver for the tour. We piled our bags into our van and headed straight up into the Andes. Arequipa, is already at elevation, on the side of the Andes. Where we were going, however, made Arequipa look like beach-side. At one point we crossed over a pass at 4910M or 16,100 feet. This pass named Patapampa is said to be the highest paved vehicle pass in the world. It was a full 1000M higher than where Deysi and I worked in Huambo, Peru.

Because people can begin to experience soroche (altitude sickness) at elevations in excess of 2800M (9000 feet), we were in real danger. Knowing this, I was heavily fortified with a mouthful of Coca leaves, stuffed into both cheeks. What the hell, if it was good enough for the Inca, then it was sure as hell good enough for me. As an extra precaution I slurped down as much coca mate’ (tea) as I could handle, without wetting myself. The other passengers took similar precautions. Ange and Rosco drank coca tea, heaped with sugar, although neither of them liked the taste. Deysi and the Kiwi chewed a couple of leaves and sipped some coca tea. Not C though, he was still actively working in an industry where mandatory drug testing was required. No coca tea for him, and definitely no coca leaves.

Well, I think, “I worked up at altitude for 2 years without local medicines, so he should be alright”. At this point I might add that, in those days, I probably didn’t know soroche, from a good hangover. So who knows, I might well have had soroche a number of times. In any event we arrived in Chivay. And as described, by Arnie, it was a much changed place from 22 years previous. There were now streets, vehicular traffic, restaurants, hotels and people bustling around. In my absence it had become a significant business centre for the local farming community, as well as, the tourist trade. We found our hotel, it was not “five star”, but neither was it the worst I had ever been in. Checked in, we set off to see the sights.

We spent the rest of the day swimming, playing, looking at the sights and enjoying the sounds and smells of this Andean mountain city. Sometime in the later part of the afternoon, our companion C started to feel a headache and some tiredness. As the time went on, he became more and more unwell, to a point near dinner time, when he could not keep his head up from the table. This was unlike C, he was one tough fellow, and seldom ever complained of anything. His headache was blinding and he quickly deteriorated. There was obviously, something wrong. He returned to his room to lie down. Over the next hour or so he did not show improvement, so, Deysi called our driver. And we discussed taking C to the hospital in Arequipa. The driver took one look and said, “he has soroche, I will go get the oxygen”.

With that he disappears to our van, and from under the seat pulls out a tank of medical oxygen and mask. He then tells us that, “I will give him some oxygen, but if that does not help him, we must immediately take him down to lower elevation”. Understand that, soroche, or altitude sickness, is very serious, and in many cases, life threatening. The driver applies the oxygen and after a short while C is feeling much better. As I said earlier, this is one tough hombre, and barely uttered a complaint throughout his ordeal. After receiving the oxygen he rested for the remainder of the night and by morning “was a new man”. The soroche had passed. Nevertheless, it had been the cause of great alarm, for all of us.

Before I move on from our time in the Chivay. I must say a little about our hotel. It must be said that, the room we were given was functional. Although, it was not equipped with minibar or a selection of delicacies, it was clean and provided a couple of beds. Ange was not impressed with the lack of cable TV or in-room movies. Remember we were high up in the mountains. The reception at this remote location was apparently, not good. The furnishings were spartan and the one blanket appeared inadequate. You think? Geezus, we were at 12,000 feet in the Andes and it was cold at night. Not far off freezing! Deysi unpacked our warmest clothes and piled them on our beds to provide some basic warmth. Now for the ensuite, it was luxurious and far better than sharing the one at the end of the hallway.

After the long day, a hot shower was in order. However, there was a slight problem. I could see that the floor was tiled and flat. I could also see, the shower curtain reached, to only, about 3 inches from the floor. And then, a floor drain out in the middle of the floor. What could possibly go wrong? Incredibly, the water felt as if it had been taken directly off of an Andean glacier. It ranged from burning hot to “ice cube” cold, all within the space of seconds. The water gushed out, and under the shower curtain. From there, some of it went down the drain, with the remainder headed for the middle of our room. Turn that shower on, and you were unleashing the “great flood” right into your sleeping quarters. One thing about it though, there were no 30 minute showers being taken, It did keep you focused!

In the morning we piled back into our van and continued our journey along the Colca Canyon rim, towards the site where I first encountered Deysi, 20 some years earlier. I might say, the only difference I noticed with C was, that in the morning, on our continued van ride, I look back and see him with both cheeks packed with coca leaves. He kinda looked like a big chipmunk. Suddenly he was a convert to the Quechua cure for soroche, as well as many other things. I think he had decided that his company could “take their drug policy and shove it”, he was not going thru another bout of altitude sickness! After a scary episode, he looked a bit like he “had been ridden hard and put up wet”. However in reality, considering the events, he did not look much “the worse for wear”.

We travelled north along the rim of the Colca River canyon in the direction of Huambo. That was where the magic had happened so many years before. When a young and innocent Canadian lad, had been rendered helpless by an Inca Princess. I often think, what bloody chance did I have? From that first shy smile, I was her slave. Anyway the morning was bright, the skies clear, as is always the case in Peru, and the spirits were high. The girls were looking for someplace to spend some money and find some treasures. As if reading their minds our tour guide pulled into a postcard perfect Andean village. it had everything; a picturesque Church, a central market, and pretty Quechua girls with prettier Alpacas, posing for pictures. The purse flew open and the shopping started.

Once we got them back in the van and on the road, we made a stop, midway between Chivay and Huambo. This is a place called Cabanaconde. Or something like “where the Condors roam”. I used to pass this place almost every week, on my quest for materials, to keep our work-fronts open. Undoubtably, it was (is) one of my favorite places ever! The drop over the Colca Canyon rim, at this point is about twice that of the Grand Canyon. As I have said before, if you went over the edge here, you were going to starve before hitting the bottom. It was absolutely mystical and magical. And of course, now filled with tourists. I was a bit indignant until Deysi reminded me, “hey, you are now one of them!” Yeah maybe, but I don’t think so. She hurt my feelings, because after all, I still thought I was Peruvian.

We stood on the canyon rim, gazed into the abyss, and watched these magnificent birds riding the thermals, from the depths of the gorge to hundreds of feet above our heads. Please, when I am gone, throw my bones over the edge here. After a time wondering around in this wondrous setting, we boarded our chariot, once again, and headed for Huambo. We stopped along the way, so I could show C some of the tunnel faces, and canals, that we had built in order to divert some of the Colca River onto the desert for irrigation. Again as previously stated in my blog, this was an amazing Project and a marvel of engineering and construction methods. Basically we took a river at 13,000 feet in the Andes and diverted it thru the tops of mountains, by use of tunnels and canals, onto an arid desert, where it was used for irrigation.

Finally we arrived at the end of our journey. For some reason we could not continue thru to Huambo and complete the journey in a full circle. At a point close to where Deysi and I had worked and lived, we had to turn around and retrace our path back to Arequipa. I know there are those of you saying, “thank God for that”, or “will this fool never finish?” Although it is rather long, I needed to put this trip on paper. It was perhaps one of my favorite tours in my life of tours. Just being there, 20 years later, with Deysi, Ange and our friends, seemed to validate, our life spent wandering this world. We now arrive back in Arequipa to continue our adventures in the Andes. Stay tuned for PART III of this epic saga.

EDITOR’S NOTE: 50% OF THE IMAGES USED IN THIS POST WERE TAKEN BY THE KIWI AND C. I TRUST THAT I HAVE THEIR PERMISSION TO REPRODUCE THEM FOR THIS MEMORY OF OUR TIME TOGETHER IN PERU 2000