Peru: The Pacha Mama We Never Knew

 Part I: Arrival and Survival

This blog is loosely based on real events. 

           It is widely accepted that the Inca rulers were some of the most philanthropic and benevolent conquerors.  King Pachacuti, who is commonly given the credit for commissioning the construction of Machu Picchu, was known for his civility in inviting other South American people groups to join his Quechua speaking, star gazing, no nonsense, llama raising, Inca Click.  He would send ambassadors out to other south American civilizations and inform them of the better spiritual and material life they could lead by becoming part of the Inca Empire.  I include this here, not only to prove that we learned something on our tour of Machu Picchu, but to draw an unmistakeable parallel to a chain of events in the current history of Peru.  The stories have yet to hit the press, but you can take me at my word when I say that the whole history, culture, economy, landscape, and population of Peru were changed when 7 boys from California embarked on a humble 9 day journey.  (Scholars at Princeton and Yale alongside all people possessing any shred of common sense argue that these Men actually had minimal effect on the history of Peru, and in fact Peru had some great effect on them.)
            Whether our travels to Peru will ever be part of a history book or Wikipedia page still remains to be seen, however it is clear that when John Burman extended an open invitation for travel companions via his Facebook profile, he was following in the bold footsteps of Pachacuti by inviting literally hundreds of people into a better spiritual and material life.  Six people accepted John's benevolent conquest.  Six people trusted him.  It just goes to show that not everyone can be an Inca.  That is in your blood.  That is in our blood.

John, we thank you for this mobile upload which changed our lives, and congratulate you for getting 28 likes on the post. 

I regret to inform the reader that the remainder of this blog will not be as in depth or as historically accurate.  At the same time I am pleased to inform the reader that the remainder of this blog will not be so painstakingly boring.  Cheers!


Brian Mirchef, Taylor Engen, and I started this trip with what some would consider to be bitter agony. We arrived in Lima at Midnight and had to pass 8 hours in the airport before leaving on our flight to Cusco.  We later learned from JP that experiences like this were actually part of a newly emerging  type of fun know to scientists as TYPE 3 FUN. Testimonies show conclusive evidence that Type 3 fun is similar to misery,  only more enjoyable because of the hilarious and pity inspiring stories to which it gives birth.



I was unable to sleep, but Brian and Taylor were able to sneak in at least a half an hour each.

Notice the man on the railing staring at sleepiest boys.

Inspired by this scene, I wrote this poem.


 Here's to the second hand marching in circles
The audible enumeration of this well lit interlude. 
The cold hard truth, piercing bulbs
don't acquiesce, don't agree with our intentions.
You insist
Using a pillow to make bearable
where a bone hip holds in place
The Earth.
Where a loose lip lets slip
Victory's breath

It is still impossible to say whether the half hour of sleep was worth the embarrassment that lined these young men's faces when they awoke.  I say, "Wear your battle scars proudly."

  

                We thought this night would never end.  We attempted to find places to sleep, or interesting conversation pieces to get us through the monotony, but in the end the only true sleep substitute was food.  We found throughout the night that it was much easier to eat in the airport than it was to sleep.  Thus we ate a classic peruvian dish from a local chain called "Manos morenos" which literally translates to dark hands or black hands.  This authentic dish is known as Anticucho.  If you are vegan or vegetarian please scroll down to the next picture without reading the following:

Anticucho is the heart of a cow, marinated and grilled to perfection.  Taylor tipped us off on this delicacy, seeing that Palos Verdes has its own Inca Restaurant.  Unfortunately his advice about Inca Cola was misleading.  That is the worst soda I have ever tasted.  Worse than Mountain Dew Supernova.    

 Above Brian is pictured clarifying some vocabulary before asking the man in the green and black jumpsuit why he was saran wrapping peoples luggage.  As you can tell from the look in his eyes, Brian is quite insane at this hour.   At this time Brian, in his sleep deprived state penned one of my favorite hashtags ever.  #wheresnate.  We didn't know when Nate was to arrive and there was a flurry of excitement regarding our rendezvous with him in the Lima airport. 

Found Nate! The crew is growing #wheresjohn #wheresJP #wheresnate #whyisjesus

Taylor took part in a memorial mass for the fallen dictator of Venezuela.  (There is some debate about whether Húgo Chavez was a benevolent or malevolent and capricious dictator.  For legal reasons Thebenevolentnictator will not currently take a stance on the issue.  All opinions and actions of Taylor Engen are his own and do not reflect the opinions of this Blog or its publisher. 

Taylor and this Peruvian engaged in a classic game of cat and mouse.

            In the midst of our exhaustion and stumbling between the Incan foundations of the Colonial center of Cusco we heard a sweet melody that brought hope of new life, sustenance, and sanity to our weary frames.  "Saltado con huevo dos soles dos soles" wrang out from the strong chest of a short Peruvian woman and filled the air and church bells that surrounded us until we could no longer resist.  One of our group compared it to the song of the sirens that only the ears of Odysseus heard an lived to tell about.  From the amount of oil that this woman used to fry the egg, it could have been possible that her intentions were lethal, just like those singing sea demons.  However the truth was actually quite the contrary and we emerged from those white plastic chairs feeling as if we could plow a field full of rocks if only someone had a yoke and the other proper trappings to strap to our backs. 

From left to right: our savior (not to be confused with Our Savior Jesus Christ), Ruesbon, Brian, Nate's stool, Nick, Taylor.

All photo credits for the two photos above go to natemitchcook@gmail.com

In these pictures you can see the flags of Peru and of Cusco.  The layout of these 4 pictures is meant to represent the confusion with witch I first experienced Cusco's Plaza de Armas.  As intermittent rains chased us under eaves and against buildings we tried to convince ourselves that we were sane and functional despite not having slept for 24 hours. 

             While it clearly detracts from the viewing experience of these photos  I have included all four of them  in the largest size that blogspot will allow in order to increase their price per sqaure inch.  These women seemed innocent to us, but I believe it is self evident in their faces, especially the youngest one pictured on the far right, that they possessed ulterior motives.  After taking these 4 photos, we were asked to pay 30 soles each, which is roughly equivalent to 13 USD.  Furthermore they told us that the black lamb which I am holding was an alpaca.
             It is an amazingly pitiful thing to watch congenial faces that hold the warmth of a welcome, be taken over by the most devastating presence of poverty.  We could only hope for their sake that these looks were feigned, and that our money could somehow mitigate their situation their disposition was honest.                   


             On a lighter note, these photos also capture a glimmer of hope and fraternity in the midst of the sadness and manipulation we felt from the Peruvian goat maids.  Just over Brian's right shoulder in the last of the jumbophotos one can make out the words "Norton's Pub" painted in a dark green on a whitewashed wall.  Norton's Rat Pub was our international refuge.  It came complete with dartboards, cheeseburgers, and even a t-shirt boasting of the great state of Ohio.

            It was here that Brian asked for two kisses from the bartender.  "Puedo tener dos besos" Can I have two kisses, is not far off from the phrase meaning can I have two glasses, "Puedo tener dos vasos."  Brian didn't get those two kisses, at least not yet. 



           Regrettably I must leave the reader here at a bit of a cliffhanger.  Will we ever get any sleep? will John, JP, Gerrit, or Debbie ever show up?  Will Brian be able to take a picture with a normal looking smile?  Will we witness the conception of any baby llamas?  Can you truly judge a horse by looking into its teeth?  By who and when will Brian be kissed? Is the benevolent nictator going to get any better at conveying the mood and feeling of past events?   Please stay posted for the answers to these questions and some more amateur photography.  If you are not Brian, Taylor, Nate, Gerrit, JP, Nick, or any of their immediate relatives, please leave your full name and address in a comment and we will send you the agreed upon lump sum amount in USD for your time and effort reading this blog.

Que todos lo pasen bien.  Hasta el fondo de la tierra!

Nos vemos pronto.