Jiggety-jog

This is the last letter:
It is being written from the comfort of my own living room where I sit with a cup of coffee, a sports page, and my cat all within easy reach. It seems strange to write of South America from the comfort of California. In some ways it seems very foreign to me and very far away, even though it has only been four day since we returned. In other ways, California seems the foreign country. After six and a half months, South America seemed so natural to us, both god and bad aspects of life there became routine and accepted. But thoughts of Peru float across my brain continually and I want to write before I get too acclimated to life at home.
After so many months of having so many people tell us what a hole Lima was, how many time we should plan on being robbed, how cholera was ravaging the country, how you had to be so aware of the terrorists, we naturally approached Peru with some trepidation. After Carol had her purse stolen in Bolivia, it was just these kinds of stories which caused us to change our plans and save Peru for the end of the trip. We reckoned that if we were going to get our video camera stolen, we would at least have pictures of everywhere else; if we had our money stolen, at least we wouldn't lose too much and spoil the end of the trip; and if the people of Peru turned out to be as unfriendly as we had heard, then it wouldn't have a residual effect on other countries.
In fact, none of the above was true. Lima turned out to be a beautiful city; we had nothing stolen and returned with magnificent pictures and videos of Peru; while we heard and read constantly of terrorist acts near us, we never saw any direct problems; we ate salads and local foods (but did drink only bottled water because of the cholera); and most important, as with the people of all the other countries, we found Peruanos to be inordinately friendly and we again made friends whom we look forward to seeing again. Peruanos are terrific people. We left the comfort of Quito and Elena and Marco, wove our way through the south of Ecuador and crossed into Peru. Because we had spent so much extra time in Ecuador at the expense of Peru, we purchased air passes which allowed us a number of flights at $40 each no matter the distance. We used the first one to fly to Lima from Piura, a city in the northern part of the country.
Lima we found to be beautiful. for a huge city of six million or so, it retains a colonial charm in the downtown area with beautiful balconies, plazas, churches, and broad avenues. The outer areas, or residential area, contain beautiful homes, and while Peru is a very poor country, obviously somebody, and a lot of somebodies are making it pretty well in the country.
Ever since we had planned the trip Carol had been looking forward to her time in a town named Huancayo. It was there she was going to be able to combine both some language practice with university professors for her mind, and at the same time she could learn weaving and dyeing techniques from Quechua women, the descendants of the Incas, which would satisfy her soul. The plan was that I was going to go off into the jungle again since I didn't want to spend two of my last weeks in school. But because of the terrorism in the area, nobody went into the jungle from there anymore and I wound up spending my time in Huancayo with Carol. She would take classes in Peruvian literature and customs in the morning while I took care of all the "Business" aspects of the trip, and then in the afternoons we went together to the small village where she learned about the weaving aspects. In the end, it was good thing that I went with her because she couldn't have made the video and done the weaving at the same time. And I did enjoy spending time with the Quechua women. Actually there were two, a mother and a daughter. Lucy, the daughter, is 26 and there is an innocence and a naturalness to her which we both found enchanting. She does beautiful work and is very talented, but she is modest and shy about what she does. They are very poor and the outlook is to bright since tourists have pretty much stopped coming to Peru because of the problems mentioned earlier. she and her mom, however, continue to work all day, every day. (They haven't been to a movie in ten years) hoping that something will happen and they will be able to sell their wares. The mom is 62, very slight, and very quiet, but she has a twinkle in her eye, and she really enjoys life. One day I teased her because she never stops to rest, only goes from one project to the next. "Nothing but work, work, always work for the artisan," I commented to her. "No," she replied in a flash. "Only death and burial." Carol and I both cracked up. There was no bitterness or sarcasm in her voice. Only the realization that life is hard, but you had to keep a good attitude.
The village is very primitive. There is electricity sometimes (every day we were there it went out for several hours at a time), but not all houses are connected. There are not any telephones at all in the town, no mail service, no sewer service (a hole in the ground behind the house is the bathroom. they have one water faucet for the house and the "Kitchen" consists of some bricks formed in the shape of a "U" into which they can feed small eucalyptus branches, and on top of which they can cook. They eat mostly rice, potatoes, and what is called "Sopa de casa" which means a soup made of whatever you have, usually off vegetables. Rarely do they have meet or sources of protein other than cheese. The house is ancient. The family has lived there for generations. There is only Lucy and her mom, but they have a warmth for each other that is wonderful to see. Lucy was stolen by her father when he left her mother and was able to come back only about 10 years ago.
We took them to Huancayo on our last night there for dinner and we don't know how long it had been since they were there, but mom looked as it had been years. They were so worried since we had to get them a taxi back to their village and it was going to be so expensive. It cost us $3.50 and they worried all dinner about the cost. We ate one of the local delicacies, picante de cuy (guinea pig in hot sauce). We ate if first in Ecuador, but there it was deep fried in one piece and you cut it up on your plate. Marco Antonio liked the head because the ears went "Crunch" when he bit them off. I didn't like the head because of the two little buck teeth which protruded from the mouth.
Lucy only earned $30 for the week of teaching. The guy who introduced us to her earned $20 which is the way these things work, but we bought a blanket she had made and some wall hangings which gave them enough money to make it a while longer. How much longer we have no way of knowing.
Lucy mentioned that she wished she could learn how things are done elsewhere and Carol asked her if she ever had the chance to come to California would she be interested. Her eyes lit up and she couldn't stop talking about it. Carol hopes to bring her up next summer and have Lucy give some workshops to local craft groups to help defray the cost of the air fare and possibly to earn some money for herself. We worried about how the mother would feel about Lucy leaving, but her reaction was that Lucy had always wanted to go to Cuzco (about 200 miles away) but never had been able to do it, so she might as well go to California. I both laughed and cried at the same time over the innocence of the remark and the plight of people like these two wonderful women.
We got to Huancayo by train through the Andes. the trip is spectacular as it goes over the highest pass in the world traversed by train or car. 15,808 feet above sea level. The conductor goes up and down the cars with an inflatable bladder filled with oxygen, and for those who have problems, he turns a valve and puts it about 3 to 4 inches from the mouth of the person having problems who then breathes normally.
We met a nice couple on the train and spent a lot of time with them in Lima upon our return there. Dario is the principal of a school and Norma is an archeologist with the national museum. she gave Carol a personalized tour, and she said that it was fascinating. (During this tour I was hassling with airline tickets as you will read later.) They are just such normal and natural people and we really enjoyed their company. It is unlikely that we met only the cream of the population by accident, and we have to assume that what we saw was a cross section of the people and that they are typical of the overall population. They are all so kind and would do anything for you. Over and over people went out of their way to help us with problems.
After Huancayo we were off to Cuzco and Macchu Picchu. We purposely saved this blockbuster tourist attraction for the end since we wanted to end with a biggie. And a biggie it was. Instead of taking the tourist train from Cuzco and arriving at 10 in the morning, doing a fast tour and returning on the afternoon train, we walked to it on what is called the Inca Trail. We had been continually warned not to do this, but all indications were that it is more fearful for those who think about doing it than it is for the people who actually walk it. It takes four day, and because we didn't have our own gear, we decided to be cautious and we hired a guide, and he, in turn hired porters. So all we had to carry was the video bag and a snack. The porters, again Quechuas, carried up to 90 pounds of gear (there were three of them) at near running paces over the passes, while Carol and I huffed and puffed our way up. They broke camp for us each morning while we set off up the trail. Pretty soon, here they came, sometimes actually running, and when we got to the lunch sight, everything was ready for us. Then the same process was repeated after lunch on the way to our night camp. We walked over a pass at just under 14,000 feet and the views of the Andes were incredible. The Inca Trail is a stone path which was built maybe a thousand years ago to facilitate transportation. The Spanish let it fall into disrepair, and then it was forgotten until rediscovered in the 20th century. But it is up to 7 feet wide and for miles at a time it is as smooth as the driveway of a suburban home although made entirely of inlaid stone.
Our guide, Mendel, was very knowledgeable and we enjoyed joking and exchanging stories with him. On the 4th morning he quietly let us lead the trek. Carol and I climbed over a rise in the trail and there it was below us, Macchu Picchu. It was a unique thrill. I have heard so much about it, seen so many pictures of it, and to finally be able to see it for myself gave a feeling that is difficult to describe, but it was definitely nice. We only saw eight other people there on the entire trail in the four days, and we arrived before the tourists got there by train. It was wonderful to have the whole place practically to ourselves.
Mendel went back to Cuzco by local train and it was a wild scene when everybody got on board. First of all, it was already full, but as you have heard before, nothing is ever really full. Secondly, there were hundreds of people lined up to get on the train, but the engineer didn't cooperate. He stopped the train 50 yards short of the platform which generated a mad dash for seats or standing room, not unlike the dash for life by the baby turtles in the Galapagos. Of course, everybody trying to get on board is loaded down with multiple packages and boxes. The crowd knows that when the engineer is ready to leave, he simply starts the train, regardless of whether all the passengers are on board. Much pushing, yelling, and ill tempers ensued. Miraculously, when the train pulled out, seconds later, everybody and everything was on board. We, too, returned to Cuzco by local train rather than the tourist train, it's cheaper. It, too, was standing room only for the four hour trip. We spent our time following the beautiful Urubamba valley, the Sacred Valley of the Incas. Finally, a man gave Carol his seat about 45 minutes before we arrived in Cuzco and he and I began talking. By the time we had arrived, we were invited for lunch that day and had more South American friends with whom to correspond. They invited other relatives over and we spent a great afternoon. This is just the way people are down there. If they invite you to their house, you almost become a member of the family. It happened over and over again.
I need to make sure that in telling about the fantastic times we had and wonderful people we met I don't gloss over some very severe problems which confront Peru today. It is a nation beset by social and economic problems of titanic proportions. There are reasons why so many have bad stories to tell about the country. They have bad experiences. The fact that the stories tend to be so prevalent among travelers gives credence to them. The population is very poor and desperate people will do desperate things. The books say that 90% of the tourists get robbed. they employ all kinds of tricks to numerous to mention here. But no one wears jewelry on the streets, everybody drives with the windows rolled up and the doors locked at all times. And they don't just hit the tourists either. Our Peruvian friends were more concerned for us because they say "We know what happens." Just 48 hours before we left for home we were walking down the crowded street. It was necessary to go single file and Carol was behind me as I plowed a path. suddenly she gave a sort of half-shriek and said, "They stole my watch." I asked who, and she couldn't tell me. Nobody in the crowd acknowledged the situation, nobody ran, nobody pointed. What was I supposed to do, challenge half of Lima to a fight to get a $5 watch back? We told Dario and Norma the story and they just chuckled. Dario said that we had been baptized Lima style, and Norma said that he had had four watches stolen on the same street. So everybody just wears cheap goods on the street.
While in Cuzco we saw five guys running down the street looking behind them a lot. One of them stopped, pulled off a soccer jersey to reveal a different shirt underneath and then took off again. They jumped into a cab and roared off. I remarked to Carol that I was willing to bet they had just robbed someone. Sure enough, down the street came a young French couple, whom we had seen before, sobbing and looking very distraught. These guys had come up from behind them, choked them while others went through their pockets and explored their bodies until they found the hidden money pouch. The French kids fought with them for 10 minutes before they were subdued. What bothered them was that there was a crowd around and nobody helped them. It's easy to condemn a crowd for standing by, but Cuzco is small and people are frightened for themselves. These thugs could easily take revenge. So, as you see, it is difficult for everybody.
There are also two terrorist groups which, right now at least, spend a lot of time fighting each other, but wreck havoc on the countryside. A group of 24 Americans got assaulted on a cruise ship (Peruvian style) on the Amazon. Every day there are reports that the Maoist oriented Sendero Liminoso (Shining Path) have murdered somebody, somewhere. Peru has a president of Japanese ancestry and the Japanese government and other Japanese organizations send a lot of volunteers to Peru to help improve conditions. While we were there, the Senderos murdered three of them, and Japan pulled the rest of them out of the country.
The Police are not any better. Everybody in the country, it seems, has tales of the police murdering friends or relatives or extorting large sums of money from them. And while this sound really weird, while we were there was a national scandal when a group of policemen who had been drinking at a bar all afternoon tried to extort money from passenger and crew of an airliner at a small airport in the back country by running several "Routine inspections." Either they didn't get what they wanted or didn't feel that they got enough but when the plane, a 727, tried to take off, they literally shot it out of the air using automatic weapons. The plane reached 100 feet in altitude and crashed back to earth, killing all 20 on board. The police officials tried to blame the terrorists for it, and denied that their drunken police were involved. But in this case the people who witnessed the event almost killed the policemen and everybody went to the newspapers and told the truth. The 14 policemen were arrested, but mysteriously 10 of them escaped from jail, including all the officers, and left the four privates to bear all the responsibility.
As Norma said, "Who can we trust? Both the police and the terrorists will kill you, and you can't get protection from the police because other policemen are doing the same thing. If you report some, they'll just kill you. We're just caught in the middle and don't have anywhere to turn. We feel helpless." Obviously, the country has a lot of problems.
We returned to Lima to face the biggest, continual headache of the trip: replacing the lost airline tickets. We were told that we would have to fly to Miami to buy new tickets home. A stupid proposal at best. In the end, my mom bought tickets for us and had them sent to us in Lima. But the tickets never arrived 48 hours before we were scheduled to return I called her, at $8 a minute, and she told me that they had been delivered to the South American Explorers club in Lima by Federal Express, as per our instructions. She game us the routing number and had checked to make sure they were delivered. She assured us that someone at the club had signed for them. But Federal Express had no record of them in Lima and no one at the club could remember signing for them. All the time the clock is ticking and we're getting just a little panicky. So we called home again. Mom checked and found out that they were delivered to the South American Club all right, but the one in Quito, Ecuador. The travel agent in Denver from whom we had originally purchased the tickets messed it al up. It was to late to get the tickets to us through Federal Express (Nothing happens on 24 hour notice in South America) so we went to Ecuatoriana Airlines, with whom we were flying to Miami for suggestions. No problem, they said. Simply call Quito at $6 a minute and have them take the tickets to their office there. They could transfer the tickets by computer, and new tickets could be printed. Great, we did that, but still the tickets did not arrive. We were scheduled to depart Lima on Saturday at 7 a.m.. By now it was closing time on Thursday. At opening time on Friday morning, I am knocking at the door of Ecuatoriana Airlines wanting to know about the tickets, but they had not arrived. another phone call to Quito brought the information that they were taken to Ecuatoriana and that they would call them to have them send the tickets via their computer to Lima. Finally a message came from Quito. Apparently the United portion of the ticket from Miami to S.F. was a special fare and could not be transferred.
Wonderful, it is now Friday noon, and I'm beginning to get more than slightly boiled t this whole hassle. We had been fighting it for three months in three different countries. the only recourse was to have the tickets sent down on a flight from Quito to Lima that night. We were to go to the airport at 9:30 and somebody at Ecuatoriana would have the tickets. It sounded very dicey, but by that point we had no choice. At 9:15 we got to the airport and although the plane arrived at 9:10, by 10:30 we still did not have tickets. Finally we found the person who did indeed have the tickets. Wonderful, everything is taken care of, right? Ah, but if it was, this would be the end of the letter and as you can see from how much more there is of this letter, there is more to the story.
After approximately three minutes of jubilation, we opened up the tickets only to find out that the dummy travel agent had misread our return flight and issued tickets to S.F. from Quito not from Lima. That is why he sent them to Quito in the first place. the only good news was that we would be allowed to spend an additional $500 to purchase the Lima - Quito leg since we were already in the reservations bank from our original tickets. We finally got back to our room at 1 a.m. Saturday morning. We got back up at 4 a.m. to return to the airport and finally got on the flight. But upon reading the tickets we also discovered that United had canceled the Saturday night flight from Miami to S.F. and we would have to stay overnight in Miami, and additional expense on which we had not counted. Finally, we arrived in S.F. and headed home. But wait, there's more. The car, which had been in storage for six months, overheated. We limped to Manteca and had the thermostat, balky after 6 months of non use, replaced. After six months, 14 days and our $14,000 trip, we arrived home with one $20 travelers check left to our name, plus some loose change, which I promptly spent on a Chronicle learning how my beloved Giants were in the process of sweeping the hated Dodgers.
With all the problems of actually getting here, it was sweet indeed to get home. I was definitely ready for my own house. Now that I've been her for four days, I'm ready to go back.
Unfortunately, that won't happen for a while. But we have 38 hours of video to edit and from which to make lessons, all of which I am sure will help to keep places and people very much in the fore of our minds.
Despite defying logic and the advise of many friends, we made it safely and with minimal problems overall, even thought we did the entire trip with specific plans or reservations. We simply let it flow, as they say, and it unfolded into a reality of its own which we lapped up and savored day by day. There were so many times when we thought of each of you and wished that you could have been there to share it with us. By the fact that you are on this mailing list, you are held special in our hearts and therefore we wanted you with us often. In many ways, we were never far from home because of thought of all of you.
So, now we are back and we hope to see you all as time and circumstances permits. There are a total of 11 letters in all, including this one. If you didn't receive them all just let us know (I'm sure you kept them all). We'll try to figure out which ones you missed and get you the missing letter/s.

Take care,

Jim and Carol