Merry Christmas...now can you please turn up the AC!?!?

"It's just like in the movies," noted Maria Marta's mom, "in the morning, they run to the Christmas tree to see what presents Santa has left for them!" She was explaining to the dinner party about all the knowledge that somehow telepathically reached her from my experience of Christmas over the past 22 years. We were sitting in the air conditioned home of Maria Marta's uncle, waiting for the clock to strike midnight on Christmas Eve. Over the past couple days, I did not really even have a chance to get a word in as Mrs. Pedrotti has ever so rightfully been nicknamed "the radio".

As we sat in the patio, avoiding the 100º weather outside (okay, by midnight it had dropped to about 95º) we held our strawberry champagne in anticipation for the clock to strike. Scratch that....in anticipation for the sky to fall. After 12:00 am on December 25th, everyone and his or her mother shoot off fireworks throughout the city. It was one of the most intense firework displays I have ever seen! I did not actually know where to look as it was a 360 degree experience. Also, huge paper lanterns are let off into the sky and rise until either the oil of the lamp burns out or the entire lantern self-engulfs in flames. The show was, well, loud and colorful, but did not last more than 25 minutes as a huge thunderstorm rolled into Carlos Paz, Córdoba.

By 2 am we were having our coffee and getting ready to head back to the house. In Argentina, though, the schedule is a tad different. Lunch is at around 12 or 1 followed by a nap until about 4 or 5 (because really, it's just too damn hot to do anything else). At about 6 comes the hour for tea or coffee and sitting by the pool. Once the sun begins to set around 8 or 9, it's a good time to go out around the town or begin preparing for dinner. Dinner itself does not normally start until after 10. What does this mean for all those young whipper-snappers like me and my Spanish camp friends?

That's right, at 2 am we were off to the house of one of our camp coworkers to have drinks and maybe go out to a bar. The rain dumped on our plans and we decided to stay in a chat. It was wonderful seeing everyone, but by 5 am I was absolutely exhausted. I think I actually fell asleep before my head hit the pillow, only to be woken up at 1 pm on Christmas day in time to head off to the family bbq. My estimates are that they cooked up half a cow and a few sheep for lunch, but it was fantastic!

I will have to admit, as we were toasting at midnight, for a moment I really wanted to be home. This is the first time I have ever been away from my family for Christmas. It is also the first year without my grandma. Luckily, I am surrounded by my secondly family (my coworkers from camp), but I truly miss my family and my friends.

To all my blog readers from Rochester, D.C., and family/friends elsewhere, a Merry Christmas to you all. I love you, I miss you, and I am REALLY JEALOUS that you get to bundle up by the fireplace at night.

WHAT'S NEW BUENOS AIRES?

"I'm new! I'm gunna say I'm just a little stuck on you...you'll be on me too."

I seriously can't help but sing the songs from Evita as I walk down the streets of Buenos Aires. It's the hardest to avoid doing so as I walk down "Florida, Corrientes, Nueve de Julio...all I want to know" Right, sorry...I will stop that now.

First, I must admit that I committed a sin. During my first 24 hours in the land of cows, I did not eat meat. I did, though, find an amazing sushi restaurant! So, my first meal in Argentina was a Mexican style sushi roll. hehe :)

Over the past two days I have accomplished some great site-seeing. I visited Puerto Madero, La Recoleta, Palermo, El Retiro, La Plaza Mayor, San Telmo and finally made it to Boca. The picture above is from the sector of Boca (also the location of the best soccer team in all of Latin America!) I was really excited to make it to Boca this time around. Three years ago (holy cow I can not believe it has been that long), I avoided making the trip to the colorful corner of the city because Boca Jr. has just won the international cup in Japan against A.C. Milan. It was a little less crazy this visit.

Tonight I am catching a bus and will be on my way to Córdoba, Argentina! I'll be spending my Christmas with my Spanish camp coworkers as well as visiting my professors from my semester abroad in 2003. From there, I will head up to Santiago del Estero for Pablo and Laura's wedding!!!!

Okay, off to enjoy my last hours in the beautiful capital of Argentina: where all men have mullets, all the women are anorexic, and all the children are above average.

If you were to tell me 6 months ago that my dad and I would be climbing the peak of Waynapicchu (the mountain peak in the picture to the left), I think I would have laughed pretty hard.

Last Tuesday, I waited patiently outside the baggage claim door at the Cuzco Airport. A young, 22 year old, security guard decided to take the time to investigate my entire life story. I continuously looked over his shoulder, while politely responded to his interogation, as tourists exited the sliding doors. Finally, after a full 15 minutes, Security Officer, Alan Garcia (I thought he was joking that his name was the same as the nation's President until he showed me his ID badge) asked for my phone number. *Sigh*...another day of the overly flirtatious men of Cuzco. This time, though, I decided to take advantage of the situation. After passing my number, I asked Mr. Garcia if it would be possible to slip through the gate and wait for my parents in the baggage claim. I am sorry to report that the security conditions in the airport of Cuzco are not very tight.

I did not actually see my parents, as my mother practically tackled me on first sight. They were starting day 2 of 11 in a tour of Peru. With their 11 companions and tour guide, my parents and little brother, David, were treated to an amazing tour of Peru. Unlike most tours which take gringo foreigners to all the markets and ancient ruins, my family opted for an adventure packet that introduced them to the very complex and different realities of Peru. They visited children in a rural community school in the sacred valley, toured through homes and businesses of the poorest squatter town in Lima, and participated in a ritual payment to the earth with coca leaves by a local yatiri (a sort of witch doctor) in Cuzco. Their meals, housing, and events planned by the tour program were spectacular! While I only mooched off of one bus trip from Ollantaytambo to Cuzco, I was truly impressed by the organization and information provided by Raul, their guide.

I am very proud of them for making the trip. They definitely went out of their zone of comfort to try new foods, avoiding getting hit by crazy taxi drivers, and witnessing some harsh realities of third world society. All in all, I think I am allowed to say that they had a blast. We visited Machupicchu together and had time for shopping and a few meals between their programmed activities. My friends, Enrique and Gerson, also came from Puno to meet my parents and brother.

Certainly, I can not speak on their behalf for what they perceived on this trip, but I hope that you get a chance to chat with them and hear about my mom drinking coca tea, my dad accidently ordering five appetizers of calamari, my little brother buying riding combis with my friends and me, and all of us eating in the only gay restaurant in Cuzco.

Mom, Dad and David...thank you for the best Christmas gift ever: sharing a week in Peru with me. I love yous guys.

The garden of the Altiplano or the forgotten side of Peru?

What a week.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend, Enrique, asked me if I felt it was hard to adapt to Puno. Rather confidently, I told him that I had learned how to adapt and accomodate to the realities that a new culture presented. This week was by far the biggest test of that assertion.

You know in movies when that new kid walks into the school lunchroom for the first time? It's as if time stops, the silence is deafening, and every single eye is penetrating the presence of the newbie. Okay, well that's how I felt almost every second of every day I was traveling in the province of Moho. Let's just say, it's not a touristy hot spot.

The region is located directly north of Lake Titicaca and borders the nation of Bolivia. In order to travel to Moho, one must take a combi from Puno to Juliaca (45minutes) followed by a bus to the provincial capital of Moho (2hours). I arrived with one of the members of the NGO, Jatha-Muhu, at about 8pm on Monday evening. The trip itself is not exhausting, but the roads are definitely not smooth. The regional government has not paved the highway and, because of the massive amounts of contraband trucks that pass each day, the roads are in wretched shape.

No cell phone signal enter the region and there was definitely no TV or internet. I went to bed around 7pm every day because after 3 or 4 hours of reading I was just tired from boredom. I slept in a relatively comfortable bed. Beyond that the housing conditions were...um...interesting. Let me just give you a hint of a sense of the bathroom: imagine a hole in the ground and two footprints in front to mark where to plant your feet. Okay, now crouch and go.

Day 1- The High Region.
In the morning we went to have breakfast in the center of the town. The house which the NGO rents does not have a kitchen and so food must be sought elsewhere. I was hoping for a piece of bread and a banana. They don't eat like that in Moho. Generally, in most parts of rural Puno, when the locals eat they don't skim on the servings. The population might be malnourished, but it's definitely not based on quantity. We walked into the restaurant and I totally lost my appetite. The sign on the door read "Caldo de Cabeza y Patas, Desayuno" direct translation: "Soup of Head and Feet, Breakfast". Crap. The imagine is really not lovely. Basically its a broth with the ENTIRE head of a sheep or baby calf. As I tried to work myself up to come face to face (literally) with my breakfast, the waitor walked up to our table with two plates of rice, french fries, and beef. PHEW. Turns out, you have to request the soup. Granted, I don't really see french fries, rice, and beef as the ideal breakfast, I gladly ate away.

My first trip took me to the provinces most remote (I didn't think I could get any more remote than I already was). I had to hire a car for the astronomical price of 90 soles for an hour drive up into the hills. Sincerely, the experience left me a bit down. The high region is very depressed and considered in extreme poverty. I met with the leadership for about an hour and they were very welcoming. While they want to participate in the project, they were also curious as to how much money I had and how my funding was used. Because I am doing academic research, I am ethically not allowed to give presents or donations to the community. It's really hard to maintain that attitude when you see the destitution in which the community lives. They told me of their frustrations with the district and regional government. "We are forgotten, " commented one of the leaders.


Day 2- The Middle Region
The second day travel took me to a community about a 45 minute walk from the capital of Moho. The leadership of the community are absolutely AWESOME! We had a good conversation and afterwards I asked them if they had any questions for me. They wanted to know how to develop a market for cuy, or hamster consumption in the US. I explained that it would be a bit difficult as, in my country, hamsters are seen as pets and it would not be likely that people would eat them. Once I gave them the comparison that it would be like eating cat or dog for them they started cracking up. They invited me to stay for lunch, and dinner, and....well...basically they did not want me to leave. I graciously accepted lunch, and promised to return in March. "Okay," one of the female leaders told me, "when you come back in March we will eat pet!"

I truly look forward to returning to this community. After spending five hours conversing with the community members (notably this is the first time I have been positively accpeted by the women), I really did not want to leave.

Day 3- The Lake Region
Okay, day 3 was the kicker. I had to travel alone because the NGO member had to return to Puno for a training program. The bus did not have any more seats, and so, stuffed like sardines for 30 minutes, I road to my final community visit. The president of the community was waiting for me when I arrived, and we walked 45 minutes from the highway to the main plaza.

There were 10 plastic chairs sitting in the middle of the plaza, and I was told to sit and wait as "we would be starting soon". After waiting for an hour under the direct sun (yes, my face is currently a nice shade of tomato) I sat next to the mayor and other leadership while the 20 representatives of the sector marched, played wood instruments, and raised the Peruvian flag. The community, bless their hearts, have to be the most patriotic bunch of peasants in the entire nation. Every Thursday (just my luck, the day I arrived) one of the 10 sectors of the community arrives to the population center's plaza to raise the flag and march in a parade. It was really a very pathetic event. Basically, the marchers marched for themselves...just crossing the plaza once with the flag. Don't worry, I videorecorded the whole bit.

Two hours later, we finally went inside the muncipality. I was watching my clock (12pm) as I needed to get to the highway to catch the 2pm bus back to Puno. I was promised that we would start the interview...just after having some fiambres or cold cuts. Okay, so first of all, the food is going to be a MAJOR issue for me. Each woman walked up to the center table and placed her portion of fiambres. In Puno, fiambres do not consist of cold meats and cheese. Dried beans, potatoes, and corn were pilled on the table. The meeting would not start until all the food was gone. Sigh. This was the second day I had to consume this food.

The frustrating part for me is that the community shows affection and hospitality by offering visitors more and more food. Rejecting the offer is like spitting in their faces. So, I tried to peel the beans as slowly as possible, but I could not avoid the lady that kept handing me more potatos and corn. Yes, I was very sick the following day and today I am still recovering a bit. Next time I return to the community, I will have stocks of cereal bars and fruit in my bag and will fib that I am sick in order to avoid a repeat of the past 24 hours.

After another excellent meeting, I was prepared to take off (though it was already 1:30). The president told me not to worry as a car from the community was driving to Juliaca and could give me a ride. Excellent! The president asked me to walk into a room with him, and I though it was just to chat. I was wrong. In walks a woman with a plate of trout and potatoes. Again, crap. The trout was complete with head, eyeballs, and scales. As I picked away at the skin, the other male leadership lunching with me ate everything but the skeleton. I admit, I had to avert my eyes as they chewed away at the trout's head.

Okay, it's 2:15pm and FINALLY I think I am ready to leave. The president informs me that the owner of the jeep and his companions have been drinking beer for the last 3 hours. Better to find an alternative means of travel. I hire a combi to drive me to the highway that connects with the next provincial capital of Huacané. Accompanied by the community mayor, president, and the driver's three boys, we make it to through the bumpy trek to the highway. There, the mayor assures me that there will be a combi passing by. Twenty minutes later, and five rejections of combis and even two contraband trucks, the leaders flag down a motorcycle. The biker agrees to take me as far as the bus stop to Puno in Huancané. That's right, folks, I am the new Che Guevara! I road on the back of the motorcycle for a half hour simply laughing to myself about how ridiculous my day had been. An hour combi ride to Juliaca followed by another hour combi ride to Puno, I finally arrived home sweet home.

I showered for the first time in five days and got to actually sit on a toilet. March is going to be REALLY interesting.

And so begins the process....

Below is a map of the department of Puno. Most tourists are only presented with the province of Puno. It is in this region where the city of Puno is located as well as the island communities of Amantani, Taquile and the floating islands of the Uros. Outside of this area, in the provinces of Moho, Huancane, Collao, Chucuito, and Yunguyo, the majority of the population is Aymara. In the rest of the provinces, the majority of are Quechua. So things are set! I officially have communities picked out for my research over the months of January and March. Today I met with the first group of leadership from the peasant communities within the province of Chucuito. The Institute on Rural Education has graciously given me the opportunity today to participate in a workshop for the authorities of the district of Kelluyo. I was able to present my project and get initial feedback from them regarding the conditions of health, education, and development. There have been a lot of frustration in the district because of the failure of the mayor to meet the needs of the community because of a major lack of transparency and accountability. Over the past 4 years the district has gone through 4 mayors! Luckily, the situation never became violent, but came close. There was a major sense of desperation in the leaders for access to information and knowledge about their rights in relationship to the elected power. Hopefully I will be able to help them understand what their rights and responsibilities are in relation to those of the local elected leadership.

So, during the month of January, I will live on the farm of the institute, also known as Fondo Palermo. It is located about a mile and a half away from the provincial capital of Juli in the province of Chucuito. They've got their own cows that produce all the cheese and milk needed for those who live on site. Lunch is served every day...and I will be assured a hearty helping of potatoes and soup every day.

The district of Kelluyo is farther away (about 2 hours) and I will travel there during the month with the help of the institute. As part of my research, I have promised anonymity to the participants and their communities. Therefore, I am unable to share with my blog readers the name of the communities where I will be working.

Next week, I am headed up to Moho, north of Lake Titicaca to meet leadership in 3 other communities. This region is a bit more isolated, but has a greater level of contraband shipment coming in from the Bolivian border.

Of the 6 communities I will visit, 3 are considered in conditions of extreme poverty whereas the others are considered impoverished. I still have to see what factors are presented for this level of poverty.