Livin large, not quite in charge

Hi there, Heather here. Again, apologies are in order for not having blogged in so long. The time moves slower here in a sense, but it´s also hard to find enough time amidst my ever-changing daily schedule to sit in front of the computer and organize my thoughts quick enough to report to all of you. Then again, it´s also quite a pleasure to relive the mass of foreign experiences I encounter several times all day.
Huanchaco: Surfing town, as Hallye mentioned. Paved roads and fancy hotels have been increasingly common over the past few years of tourists flocking to enjoy the powerful waves and try it out for themselves. I opted out of the planned surfing lesson with Juan Carlos as I´m trying to pinch pennies. Surfers abound though, and after talking with Paul, whose art show we were invited to, I received another invite to use his board while he gave me pointers and helped me catch waves. It is certainly as hard as it seems but worth every sore muscle it caused. The arms are the first to go, as paddling back out to catch another wave is very tiring. Then the legs, of course, as pulling yourself up out of the break is hard enough without having to propel your whole body out of the water and onto the board. THEN you have to regain your balance and stand up. This is tricky. Very tricky. Even more rewarding though, and I couldn´t stop smiling the entire time I was out there in the icy ocean. One perk of paying for a lesson is the wetsuit and a sizable board. Since I had to go with the freebie I had onoly a bathing suit and a short board, which makes it all a bit more difficult. I was still very proud of how well it went and very much look forward to doing it again. Matter of fact, we´re off to Lima tonight, and Paul recommended a great surfing spot an hour or so away. Hopefully the next blog will highlight the tubes of blue I´ve been sailing through ;)
I´ve been curious about the sub-culture of twenty somethings who wander the beach towns displaying their handmade jewelry. They are also usually carrying a musical instrument, and wide smiles that seem never to disappear. A simple life, often traveling in bands of like-minded youth. They work on their crafts, using shells and stones they find for earrings, necklaces, bracelets...and carve earrings and pendants from beach wood. They make music to entertain themselves, singing, playing flutes, guitars, and didgeridoos. They build bonfires at night, spinning fire and dancing around the periphery, and telling exaggerated stories. They always have something to talk about, and are always eager to share with girls walking alone along the beach, ignoring the implications of disinterest despite the ferocity with which I, in particular, may send. I´ve found them, after a short bit of research, observation and questioning, their lives are far less romantic or rewarding than they seem at first. Glad to know I can rule out being a gypsy, though sad to see my fantasy turn to ashes and smolder in the afternoon rain.
Trujillo: Quick stop. Long enough to try some straight pisco and ´to die for´ chocolate cake. Katie and I split a peice though, so we wouldn´t be ridden with guilt. That didn´t last too long though, because as I was handing my bus ticket to the attendant she told me to hold my breath as I passed the guard who was checking bags. Apparently a drink with dinner, before a bus ride, is strictly prohibited. Oops! Lesson learned.
Huaraz: The little Alps, they call it, and WHAT A VIEW! From anywhere in this charming mountain town, one can glimpse the terrifyingly high peaks draped in snow so white it´s almost blinding. I feel silly wearing sunglasses with a toboggan on but I already stand out anyway.
A lanky French Canadian named Benoir has provided us with many suggestions for enjoying Huaraz to the fullest, and quite a few have proven worthy. Among those, a hot maca fruit drink called ´mascarado´ (we think). We have had to ask for the name every visit, and the fact that I still am not 100% confident of it shows just how great it is. Benoir convinved us to go try it out easily, as his major selling point was: it´s so good for you! and has no alcohol! and it´s made with maca! and it´s so relaxing! Sure enough, fermented fruit is alcohol, a depressant, go figure. Still, it´s fun to enjoy the hot drink surrounded by Peruvians who are, like us, seeking shelter from the cold evening rain and a nightcap. It certainly relieves stress and an added bonus is the vivid dreams I´ve experienced. Some good, some bad, all very real seeming...therefore, consider this a friendly warning :) Maca root, however, is something to look into without apprehension. Close to miraculous according to folks here and avid enjoyers around the globe. It´s especially helpful for fertility and was actually prohibited by the higher ups of the Incan culture as a sort of population control as the soldiers benefitted from taking it before battle, but afterward they were getting a little too randy and had to be stopped! http://health.discovery.com/centers/sex/libido/maca.html
The 8th of March is National Women´s Day around this little planet of ours and I was very glad to see a parade marching down the main street of Huaraz as we stepped out to find an information center. We stopped to take pictures of the smiling and waving women, ranging from 5 to 90 I´d say, dressed traditionally and in more modern clothes, all with the common bond of sisterhood. Warming and thought provoking...and hard not to miss mama, grandmas, aunts and sisters, but simultaneously appreciate the company of strangers who have fought the same battles, victoriously.
Later that day we tried Cuy, the traditional delicacy of guinea pig. That´s my second ´first time ever´ of the trip (surfing was no. 1) and I enjoyed it more than I expected to. It´s little foot crunchy and covered in marinade didn´t deter me from biting into the thigh. Actually I was wanting more after sucking dry the bones of a quarter of the little animal we domesticate back home. I had a guinea pig once....I never did find out how he tasted though. To make this experience even more authentic, we were surrounded by locals enjoying the same dish. It´s quite a treat to eat on the street, under small tents and the care of terribly sweet old women, who look more like dolls than the persevering fighters-for-life that they are.
The hostal we´ve been staying in is run by one of these women that typify the culture here, Senora Meza. She has changed our sheets and made our beds and greeted us with warm, sincere smiles since we arrived, all of which we appreciate with equal sincerity. It´s such a treat to enter one´s room and crawl under perfectly neat covers, knowing she has washed these sheets with her aged hands, now likely immune to the cold we are so desperate to escape. The air is near bitter here, and I haven´t had enough blood flowing in either my hands or feet since we arrived. While hiking in the Quebrada Llaca, actually, the only real feeling I had in either extremity were twinges of pain. This took nothing away from the experience, though. Absolutely stunning, I only wish my cannon powershot did it justice and you all could see just how amazing the sights here are. (There´s always google :) We saw pletny of sheep, cows and horses grazing. Also a bird called the Caracara , which we first noticed in Cotopaxi, the volcano we visited in Ecuador. We strayed from the map Diana (of the Lazy Dog Inn) had provided, and followed a silver-green stream that flowed from the mountains we sought, Hallye and Benoir on one side, Katie and I on the other. Searching for a spot to cross over and meet our friends on the plain, Katie and I kept moving forward without any luck, and eventually completely ran out of path. Forced to maneuver steep ridges, grasping saplings and pathces of thick grass to balance our weight against moss covered rocks at staggering angles, we finally made it to a point in the rushing stream with a boulder in the middle and another on the far side. It took some serious team work and guts, and disregard for wet shoes and socks.Together, we made it, increasing our status on the BAMF-o-meter tremendously. Risin´ up!
I haven´t caught up completely bu the time has come for the last hurrah in Huaraz, as the Sra Meza would like us out by 8pm. Much love and warm wishes! Please send it back, as this is our second Friday the 13th of the trip, and tonight we leave for Lima, an 8 hour bus ride. Yesterdays bus ride was held up by a landslide, and required that we run through mud slop puddles away from large falling rocks. More on this later... PEACE!
Heather Pax