Most Memorable Day

Katie here, and I am about to share a story with you that describes what will be the most memorable day for me so far here in South America. In this small telling of our experiences, you will hear of ancient ruins, landslides, and the good spirit of Latino people. Lonely Planet, our bible-esque guide book, describes Peruvians as people who are always happily looking on the bright side despite their oftentimes bad lot in life. I attest to this belief and support it wholeheartedly, and as I tell you this story you will see why. It all began when Heather and Hallye and I decided to take a trip to the ruins of Chavin which lies about three hours outside of Huaraz. Chavin is a pre-Inca culture and the ancient structures of their civilization are still in very good condition for visitors to see. When deciding how we were going to go about this day trip, we opted out of the pricey tour bus with a guide as not one of us are very fond of the huge tour group scene. Instead, we did as the locals would do and grabbed a cheap bus ticket and decided to make the trek independently, maybe catching a guide at the site. The bus itself was a truly real and genuinely peruvian experience. As we were waiting to board the bus, crate after crate of live chicken was being hauled into the cargo cell. After two hours on the bus, the engine started making the underbelly of the bus really hot and the smell of warm chicken poop was emanating to the passenger area. I couldn´t help but smile amid the smelly and bumpy ride because I knew that I was getting the experience that most tourists who claim to be travellers never see (most of the passengers were indigenous men and women which also added to the ´realness´). That doesn´t mean however that I will opt for the non-tourist thing on the next three hour mountain bus ride, once is enough. About this time it started to rain a little bit and as we passed through the mountain onto the other side and made it around the fourth switch-back, everyone on the bus suddenly looked out the window to the left side and I heard a lot of what must have been a mix of Quechua and Spanish cuss words. Then someone shouted, ¨No hay paso!¨(There is no way through!). I looked out and found the cause of the commotion. A landslide about forty yards wide had blocked our only way to Chavin. The bus stopped and a neighboring passenger told us that we could go to the other side and catch a ride to Chavin, so we climbed across the landslide and hopped in a colectivo. By the time we made it to the town, we were a little weary from the ride and considered turning right around and going back home, especially since the rain would likely pick back up in the afternoon and cause more landslides. But we got over our fatigue and went to the ruins which turned out to be incredible. These people were excellent architects and engineers as we could see from the structures and techniques used. The main house for the high priests was anti seismic and also contained small ducts in the walls that served not only as ventilation, but also sucked in air from the outside to keep a constant flow of oxygen in the cramped labrynthine temple. Half of the builiding was built with black rock and the other half was built with light colored stones which representing the duality in life. The line separating the colors ran visibly right down the front middle of the house. About sixty yards away in the plaza, there was a small dot on a staircase that the guide told us lined up directly with the parting line in the building. He said that since 500 BC when the Chavin culture ceased to exist, the dot had moved off line just 6 milimeters.
After the incredible tour with the personal guide that we were able to hire, it was time to head back to Huaraz despite the incoming rains. Martin, our guide, was able to get us a ride on a outgoing tour bus. So we hopped on with this group of tourists who had spent the day together. It was a mix of Peruvians and foreigners and numbered about 23 including the three of us. We could tell the driver was a little anxious about the road conditions and he was hurrying us so that we could beat any potential landslides. In the case that the road was blocked, he promised us that a bus would be waiting on the other side to take us home. We were rattling along in the rain and we were nearing the spot in the road that was blocked earlier. As we had feared, another landslide had covered the road. The bus was unable to go further and the driver ordered us off the bus. We could hear the tour guide yellling as we frantically began to trudge through the knee deep mud. I was concentrating on moving my legs through the mud as I heard him yell ´apurense, corre corre. Adelante por favor!´(hurry up, run run. Forward please!) We kept running and looking up the mountain as more mud was falling on the road. His shouts were more dramatic than the situation appeared, as there didn´t seem to be any real danger of being covered in mud and stones but I think he knew at any minute that earth could fall on us and cover us. Finally we made it to the other side of the landslide and then had to hike about a mile up the road in the rain to the bus that was actually waiting for us on the other side. We got on the bus and were freezing, wet, and muddy. Not one person was complaining though, in fact, everyone seemed to be getting a kick out of the situation. People were taking pictures and laughing and telling jokes and being friendly. Old peruvian women (and Heather) were passing out bread and chocolate to everyone on the bus so that we could get warm. Picture takers were passing their cameras around to strangers to show them funny pictures that had been snapped throughout the ordeal. Nobody seemed miserable. I expected to be miserable in those conditions but I wasn´t, at all. I was actually having a lot of fun, even though I had nearly three hours until home.
Earlier when I spoke of the spirit of the peruvian people, I was talking about the people on the first chicken poop bus as well as our companions in the landslide ordeal. In both cases, nobody seemed to mind the less-than-agreeable conditions. Everyone just carried on as usual always with a smile on the face and a joke to tell. They were patient, kind, and positive. Even though the man with the smelly chickens was probably going to miss his buyer as a result of the lanslide delay (there was no way for him to carry his chickens across. He would have to wait all day for it to be cleared or turn around and go back home) I doubt that he cursed his lot once. Most probably sat on that bus all day waiting for a pass to be cleared telling stories and talking about family. Some crossed just like us and went on with their lives. Others probably joined in with the men in the long line of cars who had opened their trunks and invited anyone who wanted to wait with them and drink.
On our way home that evening, it started to snow. The driver put on some Peruvian music and I smiled again. The view of the Andean mountains getting covered in snow was beautiful. I forgot that I was cold, muddy up to my knees and wet and just was happy to be in South America. I don´t think I will ever get caught in a landslide accompanied by 20 smiling people in Kentucky. Im glad I did that.