Cusco – An Annual Fair and other stuff

It’s kinda like a state fair in the US, only there are Guinea Pigs being roasted and there are more varieties of potatoes then you can imagine.

Neither of these guys look very happy.

These are “cuy”, or Guinea Pigs.  It’s a Peruvian staple.  Looks too much like a rat for me to even consider eating it.  And the people I’ve talked to say it’s definitely an acquired taste.   I’ll save my taste buds.

I’m not an Alpaca expert, but this Rasta-paca has quite a look.

There were judging contests with awards given for the best animals.  Afterwords, they sold them at auction.

Yes, Peru is the home of the potato.  They say there are approximately 4,000 varieties.  I think that is either Peruvian folklore, or some esoteric definition by a highly detailed botanist.  However, even if there are not 4,000… there sure are a lot.  This display continued at 90 degrees to the left.  Lots of potatoes.

Just because I liked the lamp post.

Street scenes in Ollantaytambo

I took these photos on my morning walk into town the other day.

Notice the red bags on the end of the sticks.  This means the “establishment” sells chica, a Peruvian drink that´s offensively bland.  Apparently, enough of it will make you drunk.  These two patrons stumbled out of the “bar” and took a pee on the building.  Then returned inside for some more.

 

A broken down taxi.

 

Seems like people, even children, are constantly hauling something on their backs, especially corn stalks.

 

The people are very intersting.

 

One of the many interesting streets.

Winter Solstice

On the solstice, we got up at 4:30 and hiked up the mountain to see the sun rise.  When the sun hit the valley floor, it illuminated a “pyramid” that is shaped into the landscape but can only be seen from about 1,000 feet up. 

 

Sun worshipers

 

Pisac – ONE more ruin

OK, I lied, I forgot to include some photos of Pisac, which was an amazing set of ruins and terraces, and there were hardly any tourists. 

 

Ollantaytambo Ruins

Below are some photos of  the large ruins above Ollantaytambo.  Certainly not of the Machu Pichu scale, but they are impressive nonetheless. 

 

The Market that Time Forgot

There is a weekly regional farmers market in the town of Urubamba, which is about a 20 minute drive by “combi”.  The combi’s are essentially mini-vans that operate as taxi’s/busses.  The seat 12, but the one I was on started out with 16 people, then the driver decided to pick up a few more riders along the way (hence the role of bus) pushing the total to 20.  When we came to a slight incline of no more than 2% the vehicle could hardly make it up the hill.   I was the only gringo.

The regional market was like a walk into the past.  Most of the scenes could have been 25, 50, 100, or even 150 years ago.   In many ways, the Peruvian Andes are a place where time has stood still.   I walked around the market for an hour or so, and did not see one other tourist, gringo, or person with a camera.  

 

Scenes from my home-stay environment:

this is looking at my bedroom window

this is my bedroom.  The floor is rough concrete… basically compressed dirt and concrete.  Drop something on the floor and it’s instantly dirty.  Everything is always dirty.  Put some clean clothes on, and they will be dirty within 20 minutes. 

my bedroom from the other direction.  Electrical lines are exposed, one outlet, adobe construction, no heating…very posh.  My wall is adjacent to the indoor kitchen (there’s one outside as well) but the wall is not fully filled in, so I hear everything.  I thought our house in Edmonds was privacy free… not even close.

 the infamous shower.  Note the exposed 220-volt circuit breaker switch to the left of the window.  There is a door (of sorts), but it’s just slats of split tree branches.  One does not want to touch those lines above the shower when the 220 is flowing to the white heater while the water is running.  At best it produces a trickle of tepid water.  And given there is no glass in the windows and the door is basically open, taking a less-than-warm shower at a 9,500 foot elevation in winter makes for a exceedingly fast process.   The experience is so unpleasant that I’m now taking showers every other day and doing a sink wash with hot water that’s boiled (there is no hot running water) on my off days.  Shaving is now every other day.  I have to think of this as a variation of camping.  The family I live with takes a shower once a week.  I certainly won’t go there… but that’s how everyone here lives. 

 

Paola – she’s very cute, if not a bit spoiled.  Understandable, because her brother Gabriel can be quite the tormenter.  He poured milk on her head at dinner last night.  Apparently Peruvians are notorious for the inability to discipline their children. 

 

Gabriel.  Nice kid in a pain in the ass sort of a way…and a bit of a character at times.

 Maize and a variety of Peruvian potato.  They are everywhere, and end up in the soup on a regular basis.  They are very good. 

Yesterday morning when I came out of my bedroom (which is just to the right – the bathroom is the small building in the background which is directly across from my bedroom) Jose’s sister was at the sink along the bathroom building wall. She was washing some entrails.  Then I noticed the pig hanging on the tree.  I guess there will be one less squeal in the pen in the side yard. 

 

The outside kitchen.  Can you guess what’s cooking under the white plate?  Yup, it’s pork.  And it did not come from the local mercado.  They use the corn husks as fuel.  They are a surprisingly efficient energy source: almost no smoke, no discernible oder, and they burn fairly long.  The other pots are boiling our drinking water.  

Well, the pig moved from the courtyard to the living/dining room.   One can only imagine where he’ll go next.  My bedroom is out of the question!

 We had the pig for dinner.  It was very good.  It´s no longer hanging in the living room.

Scenes from another bike trip

The trip:  a van shuttled us and our bikes from Ollanta (9500 ft) to 12,000 feet where we met our porters and horses.  The trail (where there was one) was taking us to 15,000 ft.  Most of the riders immediatly got on the horses and had the porters push or ride their bikes.  Me and one of the guides decided to ride up as far as possible.  I made it to 14,250 feet.  Anything below 14,000 feet is not a big problem for me, but the physical difficulty is exponential after that.  At 14250 i needed to get on a horse.  Hold on for the next set of photos, because, i´m not really a ¨horse¨guy.

 

I got on the horse, and I guess the look of anxiety crosses cultural barriers.  Hey, no hadlebars, no saddle (litterally), no pedals (once again, literally).  How the hell do you steer this thing?

Papa porter decided to give the horses lead rope to his son – of four years – to guide me. 

It was quite an adventure.

A few Ollantaytambo images

I sat down on a small alley in Ollantaytambo and the childern come out like moths to a fire.  They see a camera and are anxious to earn a few cents.

 

This was taken outsde the local market…

The Bull Fight

This was not one of those bull fights with a matador.  It was literally a series of bulls fighting with each other.  There was some process of elimination, but there was no way I could figure it out. 

Once again, click to view larger image.  

While I´m think of it… what I miss: Alison, my bed, pizza, pasta, a clean warm shower, a clean surfaced bedroom floor, and broadband.