IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD

Have you ever been in a thunderstorm at 13,000ft? Let me just say that I am glad that my first experience occurred while I was still in the city of Puno.

Last night I stayed late in the office to work. Around 6pm it started getting dark and windy, but I wanted to keep working through the hour. Suddenly the sky began to fall. It was raining very intensely, but within five minutes the rain turned into hail. The hail was no bigger than pinballs, but it was as if it was snowing! In the end there was about an inch of hail on the ground.

AND THE LIGHTINGING! Oh my God. Being closer to the sky equals being closer to each and every bolt. HOLY CRAP. If you have ever seen the electrical storm in the movie "War of the Worlds" with Tom Cruise, I think that you will have a good idea of what a normal storm is like here. The entire sky lit up at every ray. I couldn't even count through "one mississippi" before POW! BAM! BOOM! It felt like it was immediately on top of the building.

Needless to say, I quickly shut off the computer. People outside were running frantically in the hail storm. Most took shelter in the Cathedral across the street from my office. The temperature had dropped at least 15 degrees. For the first time I could see my breath in the air. I called a cab and was dropped off at the restaurant to meet Gerson and a friend. They were relaxing with a glass of wine, enjoying the weather. They did not even flinch while with EVERY bolt I jumped a few feet from my seat. "This is nothing", they commented. "The rainy season is only starting...and there will be storms like this once or twice a month."

WOW...I must say that experiencing Puno's storms is something else. I am not looking forward to the storms that start at 3am...and much less when I am living in the peasant communities in the rural sectors of Moho and Chucuito!

Another little trip...this time to the "caca" side of the lake

HOLA FROM LA PAZ, BOLIVIA!

I decided to take a small trip across the border for three days. It has been a wonderful escape! Last time I was in the city was spring break, 2005 with 20 other AU students. This time around has been QUITE different...much more informal and relaxed seeing no presidents are resigning from office (though the culture of Bolivian blockades continues).

My favorite Peruvian restaurant owner, Kike, joined me on the first leg of the trip. We traveled the real way: woke up at 5am to ride a combi from Puno to Desaguaderos. It was a bumpy three hour ride for 6 soles (around $2). The experience at the border is something else. I apologize that a written description just would not do it justice, but wow...organized chaos at its finest. After getting our passports stamped, we got in a cab with four other passengers (2 rode in the trunk) and paid 20 bolivianos a person (less than $3) for an hour ride to La Paz. Correction-the taxi driver would only take us to El Alto and dropped us off on the side of the highway. From there, for 1 boliviano, we rode another combi into the city. Let's just say this was a bit more adventurous than the luxury my AU trip afforded...but at least this time I didn't pass out from lack of oxygen!

Yesterday, Kike and I spent the day walking EVERYWHERE. The CRAZY thing is that I remember how to get everywhere in the city! I remember where the restaurants and markets are that I visited two years ago! Thank you, Dad, for my photographic memory. We had a crummy lunch, but found the sushi bar we were craving for dinner and felt much better. Our other major goal was to watch a movie (no theaters in Puno), but the only movies playing were Click and some movie about a monster house (???). OH! There was another movie that we decided to pass on- ¿Quién mató a la llamita blanca? (tranlation- Who Killed the Little White Llama?) Don't worry folks...I have a picture of the movie poster.

This morning, I met with Gary Shaye- Director of Save the Children, Bolivia. On our AU trip in 2005, he gave us a presentation of the work his NGO does and ever since we have stayed in touch. I can confirm that he is the coolest American in Bolivia! We had a great chat and he introduced me to a contact from Peru. But Mr-Bend-over-backwards-to-help also went out of his way to recommend a restaurant for lunch (even printed off the entire menu) AND book my trip back to Puno! My return will be a bit more touristy, as I pass through Copacabana on a tour-bus. With roughly 50 other foreigners I will be traveling for a whopping $13 (41 soles or 100 bolivianos). I take off tomorrow morning at 8am and return to Puno around 5pm. Not too shabby!

This afternoon I enjoyed a lovely cup of Yungas coffee in Cafe Alexander...the Starbucks of La Paz (sad to say but still no soy milk). Afterwards, I went to a really cool photo museum with historical pictures of the region. Tonight, I am treating myself to a dinner on the 20th floor of the Plaza Hotel. The panoramic view of the city from the restaurant is something else. Again, I will have pictures to share afterwards.

I did not have time to do everything I wanted in La Paz, but I plan on returning to pick up anybody who would like to come visit me!

CRAZY weekend escape...

Okay, I have to offer you the play-by-play of this weekend. Seriously, it was ridiculous.

The plan: Go to Arequipa to see Gonzalo Cerati, a famous Argentine rock musican, perform. The original idea was to get on the bus at 4am on Saturday morning, go to the concert, and return to Puno on the Sunday bus at 4am. Here's how it went down:

Friday
8:30pm- begin celebrating the weekend at Mojsa by sharing a bottle of Argentine wine (in honor of our beloved Cerati, of coures)
8:45- three separate tour groups, totaling 35 people show up for dinner ALL AT ONCE! The head chef had already left and the restaurant was short one waitress. We quickly put aside our half full glasses of wine and start working. Yup, I played waitress for two tables of Dutch tourists that night.
10:15- plates are empty and the tired tourists head off to their hotels. The restaurant door is locked and, after running around like maniacs for the past hour, we return to our wine and conversation
11:00pm- cuban salsa lesson with our Swiss professor. We had to warm up a bit for our first exam...at the discoteca.

Saturday
12:00am- off to Domino, the discoteca to dance for a few hours. Always a blast.
3:00- we leave the club to gather our stuff, jump in a cab, and arrive at the bus terminal
4:00am- of course the bus is late! As we are waiting, Yerson suddenly decides he doesn't want to go!!! An intense conversation ensues as we try to convince him...but the decision is made just as the bus starts to depart. We go RUNNING after the bus and make it just in time as it leaves the terminal. Oops....we all make it except Gabo!!! He jumps in a cab and chases the bus down about 2 miles later. All on the bus, minus Yerson, we sleep after a long evening of dancing.
9:00- arrive in Arequipa practically sweating...it was soooooooo hot on the bus. We jump in a cab and head over to Giorgio's house to freshen up.
12:00pm-everyone is starving and we decide to hunt down lunch. Chifa (Chinese food) is the choice of the crowd...mmmmmmmm fried wontons and white rice. A few other friends show up (the group I was traveling with all are friends from high school. Half of the group still live in Puno while the other half have migrated to Arequipa). We are now joined by Gonzalo and Martin. Only one word is need to describe these guys: HILARIOUS.
1:00- content with our full stomachs, the boys decide to go to a picateria to have a beer. Basically, this is a typical little patio restaurant. Here's the interesting part. There are 8 of us and they order 3L of beer. The beers arrive with two cups- one glass and another plastic. The beer is served in the round and after each person drinks their glass cup they "clean" it by pouring the remaining fizz into the plastic cup. Girls never serve themselves in the round. The male preceeding the female offers her a cup and then serves himself.
4:00pm- After a total of 9L of beer (I passed after I had probably consumed a total of one 12oz. beer), we decide to head out to prepare for the night. Giorgio asks everyone to be at his house AT SIX ON THE DOT. Ursula and I head to the main square of Arequipa to walk around and have a cup of coffee.
6:00..on the dot- Ursula and I return to Giorgio's house. We are the first ones there.
7:30- everyone finally arrives at the house and we pass out our tickets and jump in cabs to head off to the concert.
9:00pm-the line moved through quickly, and we are inside the Beer Garden of Arequipa (beautiful stadium). I have my first bag of popcorn in MONTHS! mmmmmmmmm. lights suddenly dim and the concert begins! The tickets cost 15 soles (less than $5) and we are within 20 yards of the singer. The light effects are awesome, the music is spectacular, and the crowd is completely tranquile. All in all, probably one of the most enjoyable concerts I have ever attended.

Sunday
12:00am- Cerati finally takes his last bow. He played for two hours straight and the crowd kept begging him for more. We are a little cold and tired and decide to look for cabs to head off to Gonzalo's house.
2:00am- After walking roughly 2 miles trying to hail cabs we FINALLY make it to the house. The guys get pisco and sprite but Ursula and I are exhausted. We go to sleep upstairs in the guestroom.
(NOTE-we have missed our original time to return to Puno...but sleeping seemed like a MUCH better option)
5:00am- We are rudely awakened by the boys. They want us to help them finish the bottle, but I put up a good fight of refusing to open my eyes and sit up. I win and go back to sleep. Everyone finally calls it quits and sleeps on couches throughout the house.
7:00am- Ana wakes me up for breakfast. Not a problem! I jump out of bed and the three girls head to the center of Arequipa for a nice breakfast of bread, coffee, and fruit. We are completely "despeinada" (messy hair, overly tired), so luckily the plaza was empty!
9:00am- Back to Giorgio's house and freshen up. We're waiting for the boys to wake up and meet us at the house. I promptly sit on the couch and fall asleep.
11:00am- The boys show up and we start flipping channels on the t.v. Giorgio has cable!!! ESPN!!!!!!!!!! I got to watch a bit of football!!!!!!!!!!!!! My weekend was complete.
12:00pm- We say goodbye and the original Puno crew finally heads out to the bus terminal. The most comfortable bus leaves at 2pm. We grab lunch and blow sighs of relief as we watch the much less appealing 1pm bus leave the station.
2:00pm- On the road again
7:00pm- Back in Puno. I run home for my meeting with the Proyect Community Amantani team. I will share more about that in the future.
9:00pm- In Mojsa to grab a bite to eat and chat with my travel companions. The University of Puno is still celebrating it's annivesary in the streets and we decide to run around and take pictures.

It was a crazy, fun weekend. I will not forget this one and all the friends I made.

how about a little commission, eh??

Fine, I will admit that from time to time it can get kind of lonely living abroad. Living in Córdoba, Argentina, it was hard to find a quiet moment in a house with 12 housemates. This time around, I spend the majority of my day alone. When I am reading, I stick to either my room or a restaurant (no Starbucks here to get my caffeine fix, though I have found some quiet locations that have good expresso...oh soy lattes, how I miss you). Otherwise, I am bouncing off to the town of Chuquito for Aymara language classes and between different offices or internet cafes in Puno. During these first months, my effort is to build up networks and knowledge base that will prepare me for my field research in the rural provinces of Moho and Chucuito come late November and after the new year.

The evenings are the hardest time for me. I have never been a very good student after dinner time, and prefer to wake up early to get work done. My mind often drifts off into the evening, but I have found ways of keeping myself occupied when my intellectual capacity to focus is lost.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays my house bro, Yerson, and I join a few friends who own the restaurant Mojsa (translated from Aymara--sweet or pleasant tasting) to take cuban salsa dance lessons. The kicker is that our professor is from Switzerland. Don't judge to quickly...this Swiss can move! Granted he kind of looks like Gumbi with rhythm because he's so thin and flexible, he's a very patient teacher and we all have a lot of fun. I may not have the natural latino hip movement, but I have been able to keep up with the steps we are learning.

Other days, I have enjoyed the opportunity that my housing situation presents. The tourist turnover in Puno is impressive. People often stop through the city for a day or two. Normally, they will arrive early in the morning by bus or in the late afternoon by train from Cuzco. The first full day is typically devoted to visiting the floating islands and sometimes staying overnight on the island of Amantani or Taquile. By the next day, the tourists head off for Arequipa or Cuzco. Sometimes they will continue on to La Paz, Bolivia. Right now, that is not a popular choice as there have been continual protests and strikes that are blockading the major tourist route of Copacabana...gotta love Bolivian political realities these days.

I really enjoy meeting the tourists. Sometimes couples arrive, but often the traveler comes alone. Having traveled a lot, I know how overwhelming it feels to arrive in a city and hardly know anything. Where's good to eat? What can I learn within one evening while I am here? And, most typical when arriving to the altitudes of Puno, damn, I feel cruddy...I just want a pleasant meal and a nice conversation. Enter moi. When I have nothing else to do, I offer to accompany the new arrivals out for a relaxing dinner. Where to? Coca Kintu, of course! By far, it is the most enjoyable meal in Puno. The adminstrator, Mark, is originally from England and has settled in Puno after marrying a local (they just gave birth to their second daughter a week ago!). The food is spectacular...think French cuisine-training meets traditional recipes of Peru.

With my temporary new friends, I have enjoyed wonderful evenings that often start around 7 or 8 and end nearly by 11pm. Normally the travelers have raging apetites and enjoy the large meals of alpaca with fig sauce or trout in andean herbs. I stick to the smaller appetizers like the wonderful kingfish rolls (think cooked sushi). A nice cup of coca tea or vino caliente (a much better version of mulled vine) and a pleasant evening of travel tales ensues. Mark will often join the table with a glass of wine and chit-chat.

I have shown up about 4 or 5 times now with fellow house guests and he's joked about giving me comission...I am waiting for him to pay up! Regardless, it's a nice balance to the days full of sorting out the research that overwhelms me. Plus, I hardly speak English anymore, and I need to make sure I don't get too rusty!! :)

Contrabando...everybody's doing it!

Every Tuesday and Thursday I ride on a "combi", public transportation, from Puno to the town of Chucuito for my Aymara language and culture lessons. The ride takes between 15 to 35 minutes and costs one sol. The ride time fluxuates because people can get on and off at any time.

We don't leave the station until the combi is full (squished seating capacity of about 18 people...in a car the size of a mini-van). If more people want a ride, well...they get to stand. I have been on the ride when roughly 25 people smash inside the car. Generally, it is a painful ride for me as I am very tall in comparison to the other people on the ride. Not a lot of leg room, and let me tell you, the smell is not so pleasant.

On the way back from Chucuito to Puno there is always a stop through a make-shift customs post. About 10 police officers check every car and bus that passes. The road is the only route from the border with Bolivia and is NOTORIOUS for contraband. Typically the stop if very brief. A police officer asks the driver for his documents and sometimes they peek around the seats looking for anything obvious. In all of my experiences to-date, the police hardly make an effort to look around, and no one has ever been questioned or detained. The police never even come close to me or any other foreigners on the ride.

The amazing part, though, is that on EVERY trip I have taken, someone has gotten past with contraband. A normal case is a woman with a large bag full of clothes, shoes, and sometimes electronics. Once she gets on the combi she will unwrap her bag and pass the items to the other passengers. People will put the leather jackets on, sit on top of the pants, or tuck pairs of shoes into their own bags or under their shirts. The woman will almost start begging you if you refuse to help.

This happened the other day when Juan road back from a conference that was held with the NGO. The woman kept asking him to help, and he kept refusing. Finally, she tucked the bag underneath both his and my seat. On this occassion, the woman was smuggling TONS of stuff. She had at least four or five bags full of contraband and additionally looked enormously overweight as she had things tucked all around her body. Almost everyone on the ride had a possession of her on or under their person. She did not even ask me to help...I have never been asked to hide anything. I think it best that way. "Fulbright fellow detained for smuggling contraband" doesn't really sound like the publicity I want to have while I am in Peru.

Once we arrived at the check station it was obvious that people were a bit more concerned than normal because of the quantity of goods that were on the combi. The police officer who came into the inspect the ride took five seconds and hardly even made an effort. We were flagged to move on and continued to Puno without a problem.

As we pushed our way out of the packed combi in Puno, Juan asked me what I thought about the ride. I told him I was fascinated by how much contraband had passed through with such ease. I asked him if he ever helped hide contraband and he said no. But then he commented, "you know we both helped the contraband sneak through?" He was absolutely right. Indirectly, having not said anything, we were accomplices. The other choice would have been to said "hey, Mr. Policia! Everyone on the bus is wearing a piece of contraband!!!!" The probable reaction would have been rather ugly, so I think it much better to shut my mouth and participate in silence. It seems the best of the two evils.

Now, I feel it is important to note that contraband is a reality of life in southern Peru. The region is economically depressed. These products simply are not obtainable by the majority of the populace that live in the city and rural areas. Walking through "el contrabando" (the market where all the contraband is sold) is an eye-opening experience. You can get ANYTHING there--microwaves, Ralph Lauren polos, Bailey's liquor, underwear, Pringles potatoe chips...you name it. The prices range from outrageously cheap to rather pricey. I asked the price for a nice pair of sketcher's sneakers and it was roughly 120 soles (roughly $40).

Judge the situation as you like, but contraband is just the way things work here...everybody's doing it!

"El Receloso, El Extranjero" The Distrustful, the Outsider

Today in my Aymara class, I learned a very interesting word: kharisiri which roughly translates from Spanish to "the one who cuts the throat of an animal or person."

My question which instigated the presentation of this term and the subsequent myth was "how are foreign investigators seen by rural Aymara communities?"

Well...

There is a myth that explains how outsiders (or more appropriately, white people) are considered kharisiri...those who that cut out the cebo o grasa (fat) of the local people. According to the legend, if a local sees an white outsider who has no connection, no reason for being in the community it is likely that they have come to take the cebo, or some kind of the person's essence. If this is to happen, the individual can become very sick and die. When this happens and the local witnesses a strange presence they do not completely understand or even remember happening. Sometimes the outsider appears and suddenly transforms into an animal (dog, donkey, bird). Often the experience occurs, as if in a dream, and the local awakes abruptly in another location feeling disoriented and troubled.

Once the local starts becoming sick, the symptoms are presented with intensive sweating, fever, headache, indigestion, etc. Normally, the local has forgotten what caused the event to occur and they turn to the community's curado (relative to what we in the U.S. would understand as a witch doctor). The curado uses guinea pig or coca leaves to understand why the person is suffering.

The rural communities are certain that sick individual will not be saved in hospitals because the doctors do not understand how to cure this illness. Generally, the cure to the illness imposed by the kharisiri foreigner is to help the sick person gain weight. They are fed black lamb and different types of herbal teas.

My Aymara tutor explained that the myth came primarily from the suspicion of priests and other missionaries who would come into the communities to convert the populace to Christianity. He mentioned that if I am to work within the community, I must to so through trusted contacts. For sure, he noted, I will not be able to tape record my focus group discussions. It is also highly unlikely I will be able to take pictures of the local participants.

As I listened, I sat rather awestruck by the implications of the myth. Now, I am extremely glad that I chose to take the slower, more prudent route of putting my foot in the door here in the city of Puno. Through the next months the challenge will be to develop these trusted contacts that extend into the rural communities.

baila...let me see you dance baby.

Last night Jerson, my house bro, invited me to join him in a going-away party for a Spanish friend who had been interning in tourism projects here in Puno. The party was fun and I met a lot of people! When you enter a party you greet everyone...once it started getting a bit busier it became a sort of receiving line. Guys greet each other with a handshake, girls greet each other with a "besito" kiss on the cheek, and guys greet girls with a "besito" as well. Initially, everyone was very subdued. Jerson joked that parties often start this way...he called it the "velatorio" period of the party becaues it's like being at a wake. Finally, people started eating the "piqueos" or snacks that were cooked by the Spanish hostess (I guess they can officially be called tapas), and drinking either rum with coke or pisco with sprite. Salsa and reggaeton music were played and people danced a bit off and on.

After a couple of hours, Jerson and his friends were getting a bit restless and wanted to go to the club to dance. Now, those of you who know me understand that I am not a big fan of clubs. I don't like tight spaces, being approached by strangers to dance, etc. So I asked to be dropped off at home as the group went to the club. They agreed, but were upset that I didn't want to dance. As we hailed a cab, they kept trying to convince me to go.

Turning up the block to our house, the following conversation insued (I have done you the pleasure of translating it to English):

Jerson: Come on Laura...we'll only stay for an hour! It'll be fun...just an hour I promise
Kike, Ursula: Yeah, yeah...come on Laura! We'll only stay for a bit
Me: er.........
Jerson: Here comes the house! 5...4....3...2....1! Too late! You're coming! Driver, to the club!
Kike, Ursula: Woohoo!!
Me: Alright, alright...but just an hour, right?
Everyone: Yes, yes...just for a little bit...

Three and half hours later, we were still having a blast! The club was so nice for a couple of reasons. First of all, it wasn't overwhelmingly packed. There was a lot of space to dance, sit, or just stand around and chat. We didn't spend much time doing the latter two options. It was a great mix of everything...salsa, tecno, reggaeton, cumbia, traditional andean music, and even Jon Bon Jovi! Another nice aspect was that we danced among ourselves and after a while some other people from the house party came and joined us. There was no need for me to fake being Argentine.

At one point, though, some friends of Jerson asked if I was his friend from Lima. "Yeah," he responded and he gave an address of a rich friend who lives in Lima. Hahaha...so now here people think I'm a wealth Limeñan! I was told my salsa dancing skills weren't too shabby. This helped me pull off being Latina. I even taught my friends to dance cuarteto! I guess at this point I must thank my coworkers at El Lago del Bosque for our dance activites...and wonderful moments shared in Jammers :)

Finally, at 4:30, Jerson and I got home and CRASHED! Supposedly we're going out tonight again...I think I should head home for a siesta!!