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.