Monday, April 25, 2011

A small tribute to a gringa’s best friend

Dogs seem to know when they are meeting a dog-person and welcome them into their lives with gusto.  That love-at-first-sight connection Sambo and I had was no exception to this rule.  This curious, loyal and energetic oversized black wiener dog decided I was a friend the minute my backpack hit the floor in his house on January 6th. 

Our relationship grew quickly as the gristle and fat from my evening meals that I couldn’t stomach found their way from my plate to the floor. When I was lonely and yearned for companionship, but was too exhausted to begin conversing in Spanish, he would listen with rapt attentiveness as I babbled on in English about my worries and desires.  His little legs served him surprisingly well while accompanying me on my runs and his petite body is the perfect size to curl up under my shadow with his head next to mine, while I adjusted my posture in downward dog. 

While Alex was visiting, Sambo, like any perceptive individual realized he was second fiddle and kept his distance.  But, upon Alex’s departure he quickly forgave my earlier discrimination and resumed his self-appointed role as the man in my life. 

While I’ve always longed for a big, fluffy, slobbering, herding dog to call my own, I must admit this funny-looking little dog is a perfect companion.  He is small enough to carry over all the bridges on our runs (he doesn’t like walking across bridges), indiscrete enough to spend three hours napping on my lap while I do computer work in a high-end café, mellow enough to attend Awamaki Health’s weekly meetings and burly and feisty enough to take on 3 dogs, each 4x his size that were beating up on his friend, the dog I call sad-looking-but-sweet-broken-leg-yellow-dog. 

After four months in Ollanta, Sambo now attempts to follow me everywhere.  My fellow passengers (all locals) looked on incredulously as he happily hopped into the combi van after me this Tuesday, and as I told him, in Spanish, that he couldn’t accompany me the town 30 min away and that he must return to the house.  He has relocated his sleep space from a more comfortable venue and now rests directly outside my bedroom door, growling at family members that dare interrupt my rest.   He accompanies me to Awamaki functions, patient visits, restaurants, the bar and the market.  While I was violently ill with Typhoid and making trips to the bathroom every hour in the night, he loyally followed me up and down the stairs on each occasion offering moral support for my suffering. 

Now that my time in Ollanta is drawing to a close I realize how much I will miss having this particular four-legged companion.  There will assuredly be other dogs in my life, and I bet other gringas in his.  But I’d like to think that the friendship we have shared here is something special. 

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Choquequirao

 I bet you have heard of Machu Picchu. And if you follow my blog, you've read about the Colca Canyon.  These two places are some of the most visited tourist destinations in Peru.  According to Peru’s tourism department Colca canyon is #1 and Machu Picchu is #41.  But have you heard of Choquequirao?  Not many people have, and well in my humble opinion:

Machu Picchu and the Colca ain’t got shit on Choquequirao.

These ancient Incan ruins, called the Cradle of Gold (Chuqui K’iraw in Quechua) span at least 4,400 acres; probably more since excavators haven’t even uncovered half of the site (a publication from 2005 cites less than 30% had been excavated2 and another article3 from 2007 gives the same number, wiki reports4 30-%-40%).  To access the site, one must hike North out of the town of Cachora, paralleling potato and corn fields, then west across a hillside to reach the top of a grandiose canyon, down almost 5,000 feet to the banks of the mighty Apurímac River, and up the other side gaining back all the lost elevation (and then some) along an even steeper trail.  The trail flattens and turns west, paralleling another hillside covered in rock-fall, mudslides and waterfalls.  Twenty-nine kilometers into the trip a friendly park ranger charges S./35 pp to enter the site and visitors write their name and travel information in a book: the reason for the book is to keep track of tourism, but it sure feels good to announce to everyone else that indeed you made it and you are still capable of piloting a pen, even if the handwriting is a bit shaky.  The journey to Choquequirao is not quite over yet, down about 500 feet and back up is the camping site, and exploring the ruins is a hike in and of itself. 

There are numerous tour companies that offer guided trips to the ruins.  Backpacks are strapped to mules, Peruvian guides offer historical tidbits and lead the way, and food is provided and prepared by a trained chef.  Some companies even offer horses so that one need not exert themselves too much.  Alex and I chatted with a number of people who hiked to the ruins prior to setting off; all had wonderful accounts of their journey, but only one had done the trip unassisted.  When we learned it was possible, there was no question in either of our minds; we were going to do the trek sans guide. 

Turns out the trails are well marked and one need not have advanced orienteering skills to find their way and while the hike is burley, especially with 6 days of food and supplies on one’s back, it isn’t really that bad; I did the whole thing in my chacos (although that may not have been the smartest thing-see fb picture of my ankles on day 3).  Most guided trips were completed in 4 days and consisted of very long hikes each day and only a half a day to explore the ruins.  Alex and I took 6 days, had a reasonable hiking schedule and almost 2 full days to explore the vast ruins.  The guided trips cost upwards of $200 usd pp.  We calculated that including transportation and food, we each spent $60 usd.  Unquestionably, we made the correct decision. 
                                
Our second night on the trail found us at the Casa de Santa Rosa.  We probably could have found a free spot to set our tent for the night, but for S./2 we were given a lovely grassy yard on which to camp, access to a diverted stream to wash and an affable and loquacious host.  Julian must have been used to speaking with gringos; he spoke clearly and slowly and used simple words and phrases.  Over a dinner of fajitas and local fruit, Julian told us about his home. 

Excavation of the ancient Incan site began in 1993 and the first tourists began to trickle in; most were from Europe.  In 2007 when the New York Times travel article on the site was published, there was an onslaught of American tourists.  Prior to the article 15-20 tourists were passing though Santa Rosa each day; shortly after that number increased to 200.  The change was short-lived however, as soon as the severity of the economic recession was realized in the US, Julian’s social interactions dropped substantially (as a side note: the NYT article made our lovely host famous, I encourage you check out the article if you can).  The day Alex and I arrived in Choquequirao, there were two other gringos in the entire 4,400 acre site. 

According to Julian the ruins of Choquequirao isn’t the only reason his home is so amazing and we can attest to that.  According to him there are 5 spectacular features:  

  1. The canyon in and of itself is amazing: steep walls prone to rock-fall and landslides (both of which we had the fortune of witnessing from a distance) tumble into the angry rapids of Apurímac.  The 25’ waves, tide-like movements of water along the banks and 15’ holes reminded us that we were visiting in the height of the wet season.  The Apurímac seemed to me, like less of a river, and more of an angry ocean that was late for an appointment downstream.  At lower water levels, this section is raft-able (in fact I will be rafting another section of this river with Roadmonkey later this year, come join me if you are inspired!), but in the present condition, Alex, the competent veteran river guide swore that there would be no possible way for a raft, much less it’s passengers to survive a ride.
  2. Obviously the Ruins
  3. The biodiversity of the area: The huge variations in elevation give rise to distinct climates.  On the Cachora side of the canyon it was hot and humid; all shades of green were accounted for in the vegetation as we slid our way down the muddy path.  I commented to Alex that I felt like we were on a jungle tour.  Ten minutes later our mouths fell open as a flock of bright green parrots soared out of the dense undergrowth.  Two hours later, on the dry and dusty canyon bottom, I pretended to be part of an old western movie as I, in my leather cowboy hat, sauntered past three prong cactuses 12 feet tall.  At the Casa de Santa Rosa, I was reminded of a rainforest as my poor ankles and neck were eaten alive by a swarm of sand-flies, even through the deet.  Hiking up to the ruins I was dazzled by the colorful arrays of butterflies and orchids (74 different types have been identified in the canyon according to Julian).  The ruins themselves have such an elevation variation that the rainforest-like climate that takes over the agriculture terraces below, gives way to brushy-high altitude plants that reign in the ruins of the ancient city above. 
  4. The condors: these vultures are the largest flying land birds in the western hemisphere and play a significant role in Andean culture and mythology.  For more information check out the wiki article on the significance on the Andean Condor
  5. The Mountain:  oh the mountain, the elusive mountain that teased us with only glimpses of its snowy shoulders during the first five days of our journey.  On our last day in the canyon, the clouds lifted we were rewarded with picture perfect views just as the sun was setting.  Towering over the canyon 6,271 meters/20,574 feet, Mt. Salcantay (Sallqantay in Quechua, translated to Savage Mountain) is a domineering feature in the already mind-blowing terrain. 

There are rumors, floating around in internet space of a planned cable car to the ruins to increase tourism.  Scouring Peruvian government websites, I was unable to find any solid plans for such an eyesore, and have a hard time comprehending how it would be physically possible to construct such a device.  I did run across a report from American University suggesting that the Peruvian government is committed to fostering sustainable tourism in Choquequirao and preventing the train-wreck tourism that has occurred with the increasing popularity of Machu Picchu.     

The trek to Choquequirao was a-once-in-a-lifetime experience that I would turn into a twice-in-a-lifetime experience in a heartbeat.  I encourage all of my friends that are physically capable to give themselves the gift of experiencing this natural wonder.  But please, first do your homework and plan your trip, guided or not, so that it supports sustainable and responsible tourism. 

Our pictures are uploaded in facebook in a new album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?fbid=1762912510639&id=1173879859&aid=2095997

References:
1.  “The top Ten Attractions” Tourism Website of Peru.  http://www.visitperu.com/10Top.htm.  Accessed May 20, 2011.

2.  Choquequirao: Crib of Gold.   The George Washington University and American University Report on sustainable tourism and development in Choquequirao.  http://www1.american.edu/ted/peru-culture.htm. Accessed May 20, 2011.

3.  Todras-Whitehill, Ethan.  “The Other Machu Picchu”.  New York Times newspaper article http://travel.nytimes.com/2007/06/03/travel/03inca.html Accessed May 20, 2011.

4.  Choquequirao.  Wikipidia article.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Choquequirao.  Accessed May 20, 2011.

5.  Plan Copesco.  Development Plans for Peruvian tourist destinations  http://www.copesco.gob.pe/cservicios_choque.html.  Accessed April 3, 2011.


Sunday, April 3, 2011

Last Tuesday...

Last Tuesday…
Was a picture perfect day.  Sun shining, the mud on the non-paved parts of the road almost dry, a few puffy clouds floating lazily along.  The rainy season is finally over!  Lurdes and I navigate the bumpy dirt road connecting her house with the main carretera that leads to Ollanta.  She tells me that I’m doing well and Leander usually takes her down faster-I’m not sure if she is telling me that I’m boring or that it is nice that I’m safer.  Probably a little of both.  We make it down the hill start heading down the gentle hill on the paved road.  Lurdis tells me to let go. I balk, wondering if I understood her correctly.  She repeats.  I oblige and we commence to race each-other down the hill.  Luridis urges her wheelchair faster and faster as I jog along beside her, my book-laden backpack lurching back and forth with each step.  We get to the bottom, both breathless and grinning from ear to ear. 

The normally 30 min walk between Rumira and Ollanta is significantly more entertaining and longer today; I’m piloting a wheelchair with the 18 year old mercurial Peruvian girl that I have grown so fond of over the last few months.  We chat the whole way to Ollanta.   Lurdes is extraordinarily patient with my heinous Spanish accent and pathetic vocabulary.  We chat about life, boys, friends, the weather, geography, travel and health.  She teaches me Spanish phrases and I remember them after the 20th time, I teach her English phrases and she remembers after the 3rd time.  I can’t help but thinking that if this bright, perspicacious and kind girl lived in the United States where she had access to education and new innovations for disabled persons, she could easily use her natural talents and intellect to become a successful professional and an independent person. 

I want so much to help her achieve that type of life here.  For now, she is at the mercy of her busy and abusive mother and alcoholic step-father.  Her younger siblings help her out, but they have their own worries and don’t want their lives to revolve around their disabled sister.  Lurdes can’t cook, not because she doesn’t have the skills, but because she can’t reach the counter. She can’t leave her house without help.  Even with her new wheelchair, she needs someone’s help to navigate over the small canal that has formed in the dirt between her shared bedroom and the kitchen.  She has never attended a day of school, cannot read, and up until a year ago when she first met Leander Hollings and connected with my small help she dragged her body around with her arms anywhere she needed to go, had very few opportunities to leave her house or interact with people outside her neighbors and family and had no medical attention for her re-occurring UTIs, rotten teeth or her chronic pain caused by the osteogenesis imperfecta from which she suffers.

The reason I wish to empower Lurdes to achieve independence and professionalism here in Peru is twofold.  In addition to caring about her as a person, I feel that putting resources towards her personal and educational growth will pay-forward into her home community.  She has the potential to become an advocate for other disabled individuals.  In fact she has already started.  In addition to struggling with the normal worries of an 18 year-old in a tough living situation, she now sits on the board of My Small Help, has referred Awamaki Health to other disabled individuals that need assistance, is friends with half of Ollanta and interacts in a kind and caring manner with her peers and siblings, despite her tough living situation. 

Osteogenesis imperfecta is a horrible disease. Check out the wiki article on it for more info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osteogenesis_imperfecta.  Many resources I have read, consider it a children’s disease, because most people suffering from it, don’t live to become an adult.  It is apparent that Lurdes has one of the types that allow her body to sustain itself into adulthood, thankfully.  But it has rendered her entire body deformed, her legs are not usable and all her bones in are fragile and deformed causing her constant pain.

Even through these physical trials Lurdes keeps an upbeat attitude and is a joy to spend time with.  Leader organized jewelry lessons for her with a teacher in Cusco and now Lurdes has begun her own small business making and selling bracelets.  She is highly motivated to learn: we have spent hours working on reading Spanish, speaking English and studying geography.  She has spent the last year learning voraciously and trying to make up for lost time. 

I spend a lot of time wondering if the time and money poured into non-profit work is worth it; sometimes the work is not sustainable and may do more damage than good by making whole societies dependant on a potentially transitory organization. However, in the case of Lurdes, I fully believe in the work that we are doing.  The goal of our work with Lurdes is to give her the tools to become an independent, free-thinking and capable woman, making our presence obsolete.  Together Mysmallhelp and Awamaki Health are working to find a private tutor for Lurdes to further her education, give her more opportunities to venture into town to increase her social ties to other Peruvians and overall empower her to hold the reins of her own life.  If I don’t do anything else productive by my work here, I will be happy to have been a part of the positive force in Lurdes’ life. 

Be well friends.  More stories to come soon.
gusty

An aside: (please note that I’m not trying to pressure anyone with this blog post, this post is for your reading pleasure and to update you on my life here in Ollanta, but I anticipate that some of my friends may be interested in further information and/or supporting this cause.  So, for more bio info on Lurdes or to donate to help Leander find her schooling check out: http://www.mysmallhelp.org/support_disable_person_in_peru.php
Or go to http://www.awamaki.org/donate and donate to the health program and specify that funds should go to Lurdes).