The Peru Chronicles - Living in Interesting Times

Speaking at UNCP

2006-02-28T15:24:00.000-08:00

My friend Cesar Martinez is a professor at the National University of Central Peru. He is a master of Architecture. (There are very, very few professors who have their masters degrees in arcitecture in Peru. Cesar got his masters degree in England.) He lives in Huancayo, in an old colonial house of adobe covered in concrete. (To the left is a picture of a window in his house.) One night, after we drank a little Pisco I asked him if I could attend one of his classes. (After all, you never really know a man until you see him at his work.) He agree but said it would be even better if I were to give a talk to his class. He wanted me to speak about construction techniques in the US as well as forest management. After he went home I spent the next hour preparing an outline for my talk. We agreed to meet at 8:30 at the second entrance to the university.

Paty and I caught a cab the next morning. We arrive on time, and the three of us went to Cesar's class, but nobody was there. (Apparently, when Cesar was on a job-site in the jungle, another professor made an agreement with his students to meet at a different time, but he didn't tell Cesar) so while we waited for his students to arrive, he gave us a tour of his new building.

What an impressive monument to his creativity and passion. Everything he showed us made me think of Ayn Rand's book, The Fountainhead. It's a revolutionary and controversial building. Cesar said that most people consider it ugly and complain because it doesn't imitate the local architecture (which, quite frankly, shouldn't be imitated).

Cesar had designed the building before his last trip to England. While he was there, other "architects" "redesigned" his building. They reduced the headroom of each floor by one meter, and they eliminated the central heating and cooling system. Cesar made no effort to hide his irritation, and he was very right to be irritated. What right did they have to change his design and to begin construction without consulting him? Never the less, what remains of his design is impress to say the least: edgy and innovative, it incorporates his vast knowledge of the architecture of the Montaro valley and of Inca history.

As Paty and I toured the building a number of things struck me. First, as an American, I couldn't help but be impressed by all of the safety violations. For example, Paty and I posed for a picture in a stairway. While it is not clear from the photo, to my left was open space - absolutely nothing. If I took one wrong step I would have fallen hundreds of feet. On the roof we came across an improvised device used to suspend workers as they worked on the roof: a metal pole that passed through a hole in a concrete wall. That provoked me to as Cesar how many people had died in the construction. "Only two," he replied. "They fell constructing the sewage system." (What a way to die - in the toilet!) It is amazing that more hadn't died. I suppose that Peruvian construction workers are more careful that their American counterparts.

I could write for hours about his wonderful building. I can't help but be impressed that the thing which he imagined in his brain was the very thing upon which we were walking. The next time I speak to his class I will emphasize the point that among all professions, architecture is one of the few who's effect is seen for generations. Touring his building was an amazing experience.

After seeing the details of the building, we returned to his classroom. Finally the students had arrived, along with two other professors. Cesar introduced me, and then invited me to the lectern. There were about twenty students present.

So, what is an American computer technician going to say to a Peruvian architecture class? I spoke to the class about how walls are framed, how sheetrock gives the wall torsional strength, as well as the use of trusses and glu-lam beams. Then I took questions.

Most of the questions were things like, "why do you use wood instead of concrete?" Then one of the professors asked, "Eucalyptus is abundant in Peru, yet we don't use it for construction. Some people say that it is potentially dangerous and cite the fact that nothing grows under those trees as proof that it is unhealthy. What do you think about that issue?" I told him, "well, first I'm not an expert on the medical issues of Eucalyptus, so I'll have to give you your money back. But I'll give it a try...I suspect that it has to do with the fact that the leaves are so rich in oils that they drip oil on the ground and the oils don't permit undergrowth." Not a bad answer!

The entire talk and questions took about an hour. Afterward several students commented that they really enjoyed it. It was challenging, but a lot of fun. I guess I'll have to add this to my resume - "international lecturer!"

Bus crash in the Andes

2006-01-26T12:03:00.000-08:00

12-31-05

I returned to Huancayo the day after I met with the consul. I had carefully analyzed the situation and determined that the danger had passed.

After I bought a bus ticket for 50 soles, my sister in law called me. Some friends of her husband (Jorge and Angel) were going to drive to Huancayo that night - and he arranged for me to go with them I hurried to pack my things, and waited for them to arrive. We left Lima about 6:00 PM on December 30. Unfortunately, it was still rush hour, and the roads were extremely congested until we were well out of Lima.

Since it was a holiday weekend, there was an unusually heavy police presence on the highway. As we ascended the mountains toward Ticlio, in nearly every sharp curve we saw a patrol car hiding. At one point the police had set up a random checkpoint, and we had to stop. I closed my eyes and pretended to be sleeping so they wouldn't see my blue eyes and ask us for money. Fortunately, Jorge had all of his papers in order, and so we were able to continue without problems. Jorge later explained that the police do these things to make some extra money for the holidays. If there is anything out of order, a few soles can usually resolve it on the spot.

Jorge and Angel work with my brother-in-law Willy. They are mining engineers. As we ascended the Andes to Ticlio, they told me a story about each mine that we passed. In one case they said that two American companies had purchased a mine; one purchased the rights above ground, and the other below ground. Since the two companies couldn't work together, in typical American style, everything is tied up in court - and the mine sits idle.

As we approached Ticlio everything the sky was cloudy, and there was a lot of fog. I asked Jorge that to stop if we found a place where the sky was clear - I wanted to have a chance to see the stars in the Southern Hemisphere. We had an opportunity about half an hour after leaving Ticlio. We stopped at a store (that was closed), and I got out. The air was very cold, very clear and very thin. We were probably at about 14,000 feet. The stars were not just bright, but abundant. Here in Beavercreek on a clear night you see "a lot of stars." Near Ticlio, every area that in Oregon would be black is milky white with stars. It is truly impressive. The scientists say that our galaxy contains billions of stars, and in a place like that you can see that they are not exaggerating.

We continued on the carretera for about another hour. There in the dark I could see headlights that were not moving. As we drew near, the scene became clear: a passenger bus (greyhound) and a mining truck had collided. Over the protests of Angel and Jorge I jumped out of the car to see what was happening. I took a picture of the bus and some people - and then I realized that the situation was serious. I gave Jorge everything in my pockets, so I wouldn't be robbed, and began to evaluate the situation.

I came across a group of people in a circle in the middle of the road. It seemed that they were arguing, but not doing anything productive. I could hear people crying, so it irritated me to see these people wasting their time trying to figure out who was at fault. I screamed at them several times, "shut up! Let's help the injured." Finally, they all became quiet, and dispersed. At least they were no longer blocking the road.

(This image appeared the next day on the front page of Correo, one of the daily papers in Huancayo. It says, "Bus crashed with trailer in Jauja. TRAGEDY AT THE END OF THE YEAR. Accident leaves one dead and four left injured on the last day of 2005.")

There was a gasoline truck stopped near the accident. I asked the driver if his tank was full. He said that it was. So I told him, "well then, it's better that you get out of here." At that, he began passing the accident scene. A few minutes later I discovered that another group had stopped him, to make him tow the bus out of the road. (In retrospect, that was a good thing. It was important to open the carretera. If it were blocked, the traffic jamb would interfere with the arrival of help.)

(These were some of the people on the bus.)

As I was walking back, I heard crying. I climbed down an embankment and found a woman, her son and a baby sitting in the dark. The woman told me that her baby was hurt, but that her arm was broken and she couldn't care for the baby. I took the baby, told the woman to follow me, and climbed up the embankment. In the headlights of the bus I was able to inspect the baby. At first it appeared to be severely injured, but on closer inspection, I realized that the injuries were nothing serious. I saw Angel passing by and gave him the baby.

A few minutes later I returned to the car. Jorge rightly convinced me that we had to go somewhere to call for help. As we drove away I reset the trip meter so that we could measure the distance to the accident. Thirty kilometers later, in the town of Jauja, we were finally able to make a call.

Jorge called the police, explained the situation, and their response was "it's not my jurisdiction." Unbelievable! But Jorge, calmly asked for the phone number of the precinct with jurisdiction, and called them. After explaining the situation we proceeded to Huancayo. We arrived about 2:00 AM.

Paty was worried, and when I ran the bell, she answered instantly. It was understandable, after all, supposedly we were supposed to leave Lima at 4:30 PM and arrive before midnight. Besides that, she had ridden with Jorge, and when she heard that I was going to go from Lima to Huancayo with him, she was scared. His reputation precedes him. But in my case, he drove well. Of course, since I'm used to riding in Taxis in Lima, almost anything seems tranquil to me. Paty gave me something to eat, and I told her my story. What an adventure!

0 to 15,800 to 10,659

2006-01-14T11:38:00.000-08:00

Lima to Ticlio to Huancayo

The first time I went to Huancayo, we traveled during the day so I would be able to see. Unfortunately, we were on the right hand side of the bus, and the best views were from the left side. Never the less, I saw a lot of interesting things and took a lot of pictures through the (unopenable) bus window.

We left Lima in the morning, around 7:30. The bus went through some really unpleasant areas of the city before we finally got on the carretera (highway) and began ascending the Andes. I was amazed at how fast we ascended - the bus was constantly inclined.

After leaving Lima we passed a wide variety of areas. Some lovely towns like Chosica, where Paty used to go on vacation as a girl. And many shacks right next to the carretera where we saw people washing their clothes or washing passing mining trucks. But no matter where we were, we could always find political slogans painted on walls, or even etched into the hillside. (For example, in the upper left corner of the picture above, you can see the symbol for Alan Garcia's party etched onto the hillside above an "invasion" area.)

The sign reads: Ticlio, tourist location, 4818 meters above sea level, highest railroad crossing in the world. (One supposes that the building beneath the peaks is a mining-related structure.)

Here's another picture in Ticlio, notice the two miners in the foreground.

Washing clothes - note the miner in the background with his yellow hardhat. This was a typical scene on the route from Lima to Huancayo.

A grocery store at the top of the world. The sign says, "Lamb broth, fresh milk." In the window you can see the reflection of our bus, Cruz del Sur (Southern Cross).

Coming down from Ticlio, we passed through La Oroya, a typical high-mountain mining town.

Finally, your intrepid travelers. This picture was shot for us by a German tourist whom we later ran into in downtown Huancayo in the Plaza de la Constitucion. (Actually, my neck was killing me. For seven hours I had been rubber-necking to see every detail from the bus window.)

Miscellaneous things

2006-01-12T20:36:00.000-08:00

Just a few miscellaneous thoughts and photos...

One morning Paty and I went the immigration and passport office in Miraflores to renew her passport. Since a lot of waiting was involved, I looked for something to do. So, besides taking pictures of St. Michael (the patron saint of Miraflores), I had a long conversation with a police sergeant. He expressed his frustration that the laws have changed, taking away a lot of power that he used to have. He said, for example, that in the past, he could demand identity documents from anyone, and if they didn't have them he could arrest them - but not anymore. (Tell that the the jack-booted thugs in Huancayo.) He also complained about the fact that nobody respects the laws anymore, especially traffic laws. When I told him about the "sweeps" that our police do, he was impressed. I told him that when our police focus on traffic enforcement in a given area, the effect remains for some time. We also talked about pay scales and benefits. He seems to think that being a policeman is a good career.

One evening in downtown Lima a couple of little kids approached us selling trinkets. I bought some, on the condition that they pose for a photo. Paty said that these kids seemed to be selling trinkets for extra money - and that was okay. What really irritates her is when parents force their kids to do jobs like this, and then take the money from the kids.

Shortly after we arrived, I got to meet my sister-in-law. The conversation was so intense that Paty found herself hopelessly lost near the inner circle of thought. Its a hard thing for a husband to watch, but I did manage to catch that moment on digital film.

There is still more to come, so stay tuned - same bat blog, same bat website.

Trash collection

2006-01-10T11:22:00.000-08:00

Trash collection in Lima is quite different than in Oregon. Every night around midnight the garbage truck comes to collect the trash. Trash is put on the curb in plastic bags - not in cans. (Cans are not used because they will be stolen if left outside.) While the trash waits to be picked up, passing dogs feed themselves on what they can. (For example, I heard several dog fights at night - presumably over trash.) On the other hand, many houses have small round or rectangular metal cages mounted atop metal posts and bolted to the ground. Using these, the dogs cannot reach the bags.

In Huancayo, on the other hand, a garbage truck passes by once a week. There is a team of three on the truck, the driver, and two people in the back. One person bangs a bell to announce the arrival of the truck. As the truck passes, people run outside with their trash for the week and throw it into the back of the truck. When the crew is not busy collecting trash, they go through it looking for useful things to sell or keep. It's a really nasty job.

The enemy of my friend is my enemy - part 2

2006-01-10T08:33:00.000-08:00

Paola and Coco returned after several hours. Upon returning, she gave me a copy of the laws regarding treatment of foreigners (Law no. 703, 5-Nov-1991). The police who came to the house violated at least three separate sections Title 7, Chapter 13 regarding the conduct of officials in their treatment of foreigners. First, section Article 70 paragraph A says that they must "identify themselves." They refused to show proof of identity. Second, paragraph B, "treat with respect and courtesy...Providing information, orientation and protection." They were belligerent and threatening - without cause. Article 71, "arbitrary intervention, citation, arrest or detention of a foreigner will be punished according to Law." For that reason I left a power of attorney with Paola so she can denounce these thugs.

Paola then told us what happened at the police station. The consul had told me to contact captain Edwin Perez Capichawa. When Paola asked for him, he was visiblely scared and hardly spoke a word. On the other hand, a group of thugish policemen came out and belligerently insisted that she give them my name. Paola refused. First, she didn't know my full name, and second, she wasn't about to give that information to them without properly legal cause. Paola insisted that she wanted to know why they were looking for this unnamed foreigner. Finally, one of the cops blurted out that they had received a call from Lima saying that I was living illegally in Paty's house, essentially, that I had overstayed my allowed time. The other cops screamed at him to shut up; clearly they didn't want this piece of information to see daylight- because it clearly identifies who is responsible. (With regard to the allowed time, according to Title 3, Chapter 7 of the same law regarding foreigners, a tourist is allowed a stay of 90 days, and can apply for an extension for an additional 90 days within the calendar year. Paola explained that I had arrived three weeks ago, and therefore was not in violation of any law.) Finally, after about two hours, she and Coco left.

The consul had asked me to go to Lima to meet with him. He wanted to personally inspect my immigration papers. He made copies of my papers and the summons for his files. Then he called Edwin Perez Capichawa and told him that he had inspected my papers, that everything is in order, and that he has no cause to harass me. The call further put the fear of God in this little tyrant. Clearly he understood that he was not just messing with a foreigner, but that he was messing with the US government, and that his illegal acts could have unfortunate consequences for his career.

After carefully analyzing the situation I decided to return to Huancayo the following night. With the local police on notice that they were treading on dangerous ground, it was very unlikely that they would put their own careers at risk by committing more abuses of power.

I took advantage of my day in Lima to do some shopping with my brother in law. We went to a street in downtown Lima where very shop is optometrists. For 140 soles (about $43) I had my prescription reviewed, and had the lenses in two pairs of glasses replaced with scratch-resistant anti-glare plastic.

Since we had to wait two hours for them to grind the lenses, we caught a cab to go buy my bus ticket. Our driver, Carlos Alfredo, age 62, a former chemical engineer of Chinese ancestry, drove us to the bus station to buy my ticket, then back to the optometrist, and finally back to the apartment. Carlos told me that he has been driving cab for six years, and prior to that he had his own business. When the government devalued the currency, he lost everything. So, although he is a chemical engineer, he prefers to drive cab to avoid the boredom of retirement. Since we were riding around for at least two hours, we had long conversations about the war in Iraq and many other subjects. He said that it is clear that the press in Peru only presents half the story about Iraq - the half that makes the US look like the villain. (I heard this from many people.) We had a good time, and ultimately the entire journey, including about 30 minutes of wait time, cost us 20 soles.

After returning to the apartment, I packed my things for the return trip. The bus was to leave at 11:30 PM, so I took advantage of the time to go to a nearby store, Pink Dust to by movies and music. There is another store, Blue Dust in downtown Lima. In Pink Dust there are dozens of booths where they sell everything from electronics and clothing to pirated music, videos and software.

To be continued...

Back in the USA

2006-01-06T19:09:00.000-08:00

The Beetles sang "Back in the USSR, you don't know how lucky you are boy..." Well, we're back in the USA and I'm missing Peru. Every minute was an adventure.

I'll post the final chapters of "The Enemy of my Friend is My Enemy" once I have had a chance to recover from jet lag and bus lag. (For now it is enough to say that I also have friends and connections.) Just to give you an idea, we spent seven hours on the bus from Huancayo to Lima (during which time I slept at most an hour). In Lima we realized that we had to leave that same night for the US. So we frantically did our things during the day, and rushed to the airport for our 1AM flight. Eleven hours on the plane (during which time I slept at most a hour and a half), and here we are. So, while Paty's in good shape - she slept through nearly all of the bus ride and the plane trip, I'm still a wreck. I don't sleep while traveling.

I think I'll take a hot shower. Paty told me that there is plenty of water - what a treat!

The enemy of my friend is my enemy - part 1

2005-12-31T15:21:00.000-08:00

There is a saying, ¨the enemy of my enemy is my friend.¨ The converse is also true, the enemy of my friend is my enemy...

Dedication:

To Paty - for her fearless determination to protect her husband

To Coco - for his bravery and willingness to put himself in harm's way for our sake

To Paola - my personal lawyer, our family lawyer, and Coco's girlfriend - always ready to help us with all the complicated problems we face here

12-27-05

Coco and I had been arguing war and peace, international politics, domestic and foreign trade policy and national and global economics all morning. At times he irritated me so much, and I irritated him so much, that we were almost shouting at each other. Every now and then, when my blood presure could take no more "everyone says that..." I would explode with a profanity and a loud, "don't be stupid!" To which, from the kitchen would come, "Jason, calm down." We were having fun. Every time I was thrashing his arguments he changed the subject, and I would thrash him again.

Around noon today three "immigration police" showed up at our door. They said that they were searching for a foreigner - a foreigner who's name they didn't know. But somehow, perhaps by divine revelation, they knew he was "living" in Paty's house. When they saw me, they tried to ask me questions. Paty immediately jumped in front of me, yelling "don't tell them anything, they aren't police, they just delinquents!" They were not wearing any kind of uniform, and they were driving a junky little Ford Fiesta. When we demanded that they show us the order (which their leader was waving around in the air) they refused. When we demanded that they identify themselves, they refused. Paty insisted on seeing their "order", and started to lunge toward their leader, screaming at him to give her the document. I grabbed her before she could touch him and drug her back into the house. At this moment I felt two emotions, fear and rage. A rage like I've never felt before because I knew where this was going and where it came from. I was so furious that I slammed the door so hard that the latch couln't take hold, and I had to slam it again.

After dragging Paty back in the house I told her that to call the police. She tried, but the line was busy! So I told her to find the phone number for the American Embasy in Lima. Meanwhile, Coco went outside to try to find out what they wanted.

They insisted that they needed to inspect my immigration documents. They didn't know my name, but they were very insistent that the knew there was a foreigner living in the house, and that I must present my passport. Coco refused to give them my name. Since they were already acting illegally, they didn't dare complicate matters by forcing their way in. So they issued an order to appear at the police station to present documents. And since they didn't know the name of the person to whom they were issuing the order, Coco gave them his name. After getting in a shouting match with them, Coco came back inside and took pictures of them and kept them under surveilance.

Meanwhile, Paty got the embasy's number from someone and I called them. I was patched through to American Citizen's Services, and then connected to the consul's office. I explained the situation briefly to a very nice lady and gave her my phone number because my phone card was almost used up. She said she would call me back if it cut off. It did. So I waited a while, figuring that she was looking into the matter. In the mean time the District Attorney and several more police showed up.

Coco was outside talking to them. They insisted that all they wanted to know was my name and to "see" my passport to be sure that I am not here illegally. (Hey, now there's a twist! Peruvian officials trying to make trouble for me because they suspect that I am an "illegal alien." And here I was under the naive impression that only brown-skinned people who speak Spanish could be "illegal aliens." I guess I'll have to update our local talk-show hosts - I'm sure they didn't realize this either.) Coco refused to give them any information. Finally, they decided to issue a summons, but still they didn´t have my name. Coco gave them his and returned to the house with the summons. The summons was issued in Coco´s name ordering him to appear at five that evening and present his immigration papers. It was rediculous on its face!

I was finally able to talk to the consul in Lima, Charles Smith. He told me that he had never heard of Peruvian immigrations officials performing ¨routine¨ inspections of unnamed gringos. However, he also said that they do have a right to review my documents to be sure that I am here legally, and therefore I should comply. I gave the consul the details of the summons, and we found the phone numbers of the local police stations. He called and was able to talk to a captain in the local precinct. According to the consul, this guy knew all about the matter. Also, the consul said that the captain definitely was scared by the call from the consul - which was exactly what we had hoped for. The captain told the consul that I should appear as scheduled and ask specifically for him - that he would attend to the matter. Then I proposed sending my lawyer (Coco´s girlfriend Paola) - which he liked very much.

Finally, Paola arrived. I explained everything to my lawyer, and showed her the summons. Then she left to research the law that they cited, and to appear in my stead. She took no documentation with her except the summons. The strategy was that, since they didn´t know my name, why give it to them. Clearly, once they had it, whoever was responsible for this incident, could get my full name and press false charges against me. She returned several hours later to tell us what happened at the police station.

To be continued...

Christmas Eve

2005-12-31T14:59:00.000-08:00

For the last day and a half I've been bedridden with some kind of intestinal bacterial infection. I'm just glad that the problem is isolted to the intestings - often these things are accompanied by violent volmiting spells. Even people who have lived here all their lies occasionally get sick from the water or from foods that are either not well prepared, or are prepared using bad ingredients. For example, before we left Lima, there was a story on the news about a truck that the police intercepted in Huancayo. The truck had around 10,000 butchered chickens inside - in various states of decay. The truck, with its spoiled cargo, was destined for local Huancayo markets and restaraunts. Who knows how many people would have gotten sick if the truck had fulfilled its mission.

I finally got enough strength today to spend sometime out of bed. I was talking with Mama Maria about Christmas. She told me that yesterday she was convinced that it was Christmas Eve, and she felt so bad because she hadn't taken her baby Jesus figurine to the Mass of the Rooster. Mama Maria is surprisingly lucid for a lady of 89 years old.

Christmas in Peru is a big deal in the majority of families. Every house I've been to has its nativity scene, and many have lights. After talking with Mama Maria for a while, Mama Eddy joined in. She expressed her displeasure with Christmas and the hypocricy surounding it. She said, 'everyone puts up their nativity scenes and goes to mass, and when they go home you see how they really are.' Here, they leave the Christmas Tree up until January 6th, the Descent of the Wise Men.

Dominga came to wash clothes today. I didn't realize it because I was in bed. Last time she washed clothes I gave her an extra five soles for her work, only to learn a few days later that it was counterfeit. Since everyone was running around today, nobody prepared any kind of lunch for her an her son, so they are going to stay a while and have lunch with the family.

While Dominga was washing clothes a gardener came with his son. Before they began cutting the grass, they chewed some coca. It took them about forty minutes to cut the grass using hedge shears, and bag up the cuttings. Mama Eddy was irritated with them because the tracked grass clippings through the house. They charged twelve soles for their work. As they left I couldn't help but wonder if they can earn twelve soles in less than an hour, how much more would they earn if they had a simple machine? Furthermore, Dominga charged thirteen soles to wash the clothes today, yet she and her son worked for several hours together. Apparently, cutting the grass has more value to the consumer than does clean clothes. Yet how many people would choose to spend their money on cutting the grass if they had to go without clean clothes in order to do so?

Earlier I heard dogs barking. Although Huancayo is a very noisey place, these dogs didn't sound normal. I drug myself out to the door to see a group of four little kids being menaced by three dogs. I gather the kids up and brought them inside. Two little girls and two little boys, the oldest of them no older an nine years old. Eventually the owner came out and gather his mutts. If I had been a little more alert I would have told him off.

It's 900 PM and I´m in a foul mood. The idiots in the city have cut off the water. Apparently they don't cut it off all over the city - for some reason here in El Tambo they do. Even on Christmas Eve, when they know that people will be busy in their kitchens the fools don't leave the water on even until 1000 PM. They probably shut it off early so they can leave and get drunk before things close for the night.

2005-12-31T14:52:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Patricia Maria Apolinario and her daughter, Christina, came to the house and brought a bag of miniature peaches from Mantacra. Maria has worked for the family since she was eleven, cleaning, cooking, washing clothes and careing for two generations of the family Gutierrez (Paty and her brothers and Paty and her sons). She is now 35 years old. As soon as she arrived, after greeting everyone she began washing dishes and helping in the kitchen. Even as we all had lunch together, everytime there was a need, she leapt to her feet to take care of it.

Maria stopped working full-time in Paty's house a few years ago after after Paty's boys moved to Lima. Afterward, Mama Eddy called Maria occasionally when she needed help. However, since all three boys will be here during Christmas, I suggested that we hire her to take care of things so that Paty and Mama Eddy would have more free time. (Yes, this probably sounds sexist. At home Paty and I share the chores. But here women feel impelled to "attend" to their families. When I ask to help, I am told not to worry about it - my offer is rejected. In fact, if I don't allow Mama Eddy to "attend" me, she feels bad. So, I go with the flow, even though I don't feel right being "attended to.") The family pays Maria between ten and twenty soles a day ($3.50 to $7.00) depending on how much work there is.

Maria's husband is a chemical engineer, and she and her sister have a . She doesn't need the money. She is here because she loves Paty, Mama Eddy and the boys.

I noticed that Maria seemed uncomfortable around me yesterday, so I asked Paty about it. She said that Maria doesn't quite know how to react to me. So I asked her how I should speak to Mariea. She said I should speak to her informally (in "tu"), so today I started speaking to her in "tu." It feels a little wierd to speak to her that way, but it seems to make her feel much more comfortable, and today she looks me in the eyes and smiles. (Although I speak to her informally, she speaks to me in "usted" (formal address), and indication of how polite she is.) It's interesting how something so small can make such a difference.

La Coca and Sendero Luminoso

2005-12-31T14:42:00.000-08:00

La Coca

Since I arrived in Lima I've been drinking Mate de Coca. It is sold in virtually every store in tea bags. People drink it to alieviate the effects of alititude. When I arrived I was only modestly effected by the altitude; it took about a day to adjust. However, when I got sick I stopped drinking it, and I think that contributed to my overall sense of weakness. I've felt as if the air is always stuffy; as if I am always short of breath. So, Mama Maria gave me some Coca leaves to chew and make tea with.

Everyone I've talked to says the same thing about Coca. "It's a great thing!" There is a presidential candidate here, for example, who wants to enhance the production of Coca for non-elicit purposes. (Of course we can be sure that the US won't tollerate that in any way - and probably rightly so. In the Sierra (high mountain plaines) people who do physical work chew it regularlly for energy. They can work hard all day without needing to eat; it improves their productivity. (I began chewing when I started this article, about fifteen minutes ago. I'm feeling a lot better now.)

Sendero Luminoso (aka: Shining Path)

In te 80's and 90's the terrorist group Sendero Luminoso was very active in Peru. They murered or kidnapped at least 70,000. Then Alberto Fujimori came to power and took extremely drastic action to stop them - and to a large extent succeeded. However, Sendero has become active again, especially in the Selva (gungle). Nowadays, however, the press doesn't call them torrorists, they call them "narcoterrorists" because they are deeply involved in drug trafficing. Since Coca is produced in the Selva, that's where they base their activities. Just since I've been here there have been several reports on the news and in the papers about ambushes against police - at least 9 have been killed and 5 more injurred.

Sendero Luminoso leaves it's mark like an American street gang: a red hammer and siccle (the symbol of the Soviet Union). They have ties to Hugo Chavez of Venzuela, Castro of Cuba, the newly elected president of Bolivia is also of the same cloth, as is, apparently, the leader of Chile. On the back of a few taxis here and in Lima, I've seen stickers glorifying Che Guevera. On his barret is a red star.

I want my sons to go to America

2005-12-31T14:15:00.000-08:00

This morning Dominga Verera rang the door bell. A campesina (country lady) in her 50's, she arrived with her youngest of eight sons, Reinato, 14, to wash the clothes. She told me that she and her son came on a Combi from her home in the Sierra, about 8 KM from here. She has no husband, he abandoned her after Reinato was born. She supports her family by washing cloths, cleaning houses, sewing corn and raising sheep and chickens.

Dominga wants her sons to go to the US because "there is no work here." "Can I send them with you?", she asked. "Are there farms, there? Do they grow corn? Are there shepherds? They could be shepherds," she said. I explained to her that the most important thing for them to do is learn English. I said, "if an engineer goes to the US, but he doesn't speak English, he's going to work at Pizza Hut. But if he speaks English, he can accomplish many things."

I went up to the roof, and Dominga and Reinaldo were washing clothes. To clean the house and wash the clothes she charges 300 soles a month - about $88. For her work today, Mama Eddy was going to pay 6 soles - $1.75. I told her to pay at least ten soles.

I don't like to calculate the exchange rate because it depresses me. It is depressing to think that Dominga is going to be thrilled if we pay her an extra $1.20 (four soles more than she is expecting), but that is the way things are here. Our chofer, Jaime, for a whole day's work, was happy to accept 90 soles, $26 - and was delighted when I gave him an extra ten soles as a tip. I hope that Dominga's sons learn English and go to the US - at least then then will have a future.

Update

2005-12-26T16:00:00.000-08:00

I had some excellent pictures of our tour of the Montaro valley, but for some reason they didn´t write to my CD - and I lost them. Never the less, when I get a chance to download what I wrote, I´ll post it.

I thought I was going to escape the Revenge of the Incas, but I didn´t. Like a dummy, I drank some coffee in a place that wasn´t exactly hygenic - and I have spent the last three days sleeping, etc. Today I was finally able to eat a hamburger patty, everything else disgusted me. I think the recovery is harder because of the altitude.

Since everyone wonders what Paty´s house looks like, here´s a couple of pictures. (Mama Eddy in the master bedroom.) I estimate that it has about 2500 square feet inside, plus another 600 on the roof, the basement is only about 300 square feet. The roof has a servant´s quarters, a
double sink for washing clothes, and a large open area for hanging them to dry. Besides having four bedrooms, three full baths, the house has a conference room (when the boys lived here, this is where they studdied.) (Norberth watching TV in the conference room.)

It´s a big house, but not an inviting one. As with virtually all construction outside of the Selva (jungle), this house was built with brick overlayed with concrete. The echo is terrible, and at night it can get really cold, especially when Mama Eddy leaves the back door open. Heaters are almost unheard of in Peru - even here in the Andes.

The other thing that is surprising about the house is how poorly it was built. Sure, the concrete walls are fine - but the hot water system doesn´t work, water pressure above the first floor is poor, the plumbing on the roof tanks leaks like a sieve as well as the skylites, and there isn´t a door in the house that shuts right. I find it frutstrating because such sloppy work goes completely against my grain. It not a question of money, it´s a question of doing things right.

I´ve begun to sense that this sloppiness is a cultural thing. So many things here, important things, are done (pardon the french) in a half-assed way. I see relections of this attitude in the kind of service we receive in restaraunts and other service organizations - a kind of indiference, at times almost hostility. On the other hand, every store I´ve been to, the people have been very nice, very helpful. It´s very hard to explain; I´m going to have to think about it for a while before I can put my finger on it. For now, I just observe and wonder how people can be that way.

On the bright side, I´ll end with a picture from our visit to the dentist. This dentist is a real profession, and extremely nice. He allowed us to take a ton of pictures while he worked. (Try that in the US!) I have an entire article about the dentist that I´ll post later.

Will El Chino Return? - Follow-up

2005-12-16T17:11:00.000-08:00

The name El Chino refers to Alberto Fujimori, the disgraced president of Peru from 1990 to 2000. Spanish-speakers don´t have the same hangups that English-speakers do with regard to color or ethnicity. Although Fujimori is of Japanese ancestory, Spanish-speakers tend to generalize Japanese and Chinese and call them Chinos. It is in no way a racial slur - in fact, it is one of the things I enjoy about Latin culture - the fact that political correctness hasn´t emasculated Spanish like it has English.

Regarding Fujimori, I had an interesting conversation with an 77 year old man the other day in La Plaza de San Martin in Lima. He told me that El Chino and his right hand, Vladimiro Montesinos (or Vladimiro Lenin Montesinos Torres to be specific - what a great name for a crook like him), were deeply involved in the drug trade during his time as President.

What is amazing is that Fujimori is actually presenting himself as a valid candidate. Fortunately, Lourdes Flores Nana appears to be at the top of the heap right now. She is a strong advocate for women´s rights, which is something this country desparately needs.

Huancayo

2005-12-16T16:56:00.000-08:00

We arrived in Huancayo today about 230 PM. The trip from Lima was fantastic! We traveled by bus into the central part of the country. We passed through Ticlio, at an altitude of 15,800 ft and then descended to Huancayo at about 10,659. I have been drinking Mate de Coca since arriving in Lima, and I took a bottle with me on the trip, so I am not suffering from the altitude as much as some.

(PS: all of the keyboards here are Spanish. The layout somewhat different, and you have to use ALT codes to get things like @ signs and backslashes. Most of the time I write things on my e-Mate and then upload them when I have a chance - in case you were wondering.)

I'll post pictures and details next time.

Interesting Food

2005-12-15T17:55:00.000-08:00

Today, 12-15-05, Paty and I went to Barranco - outside of Miraflores to eat Cebiche. We went to a restaruant called Mi Peru, recommended to us by Willy. We ordered Cebiche de Lenguado (flounder) and Tortilla de huevera. Tortialla de huevera is like a thick pancake made with huevera. What is heuevera. ¡Hay que ver para creer!

(Left: Huevera - the egg sack of a fish)

Tortilla de huevera is made with the above, and eggs, and probably other things too. It is actually not too bad - it has a fishy smell and taste, but with Rocoto and limon it is edible. It must be an aquired taste. (For me, it is far easier to aquire the taste for Tortilla de huevera than it is for panza!)

The Hole

2005-12-15T17:23:00.000-08:00

Sorry, I have no pictures with this article because it was too dangerous to bring the camera.

The Hole

Last night Coco, Paola and I went downtown. First we went to the District Attorney's building to see the list of accepted applicants for Assistant DA's. (Paola applied for a position, although she really doesn't want to be a DA. She prefers civil law over penal.) After the offices close, they post a list in the windows of the building. If they hire you, your name appears on the list. There must have been a hundred lawyers there pressing against the bars around the building trying to see if they were hired. Paola did not see her name posted, but she is going to check on the Internet because apparently they are going to post the list there.

Then we set out on foot for "The Hole." It was about 6:00 PM and we had to walk about six blocks through some of the nastiest parts of downtown Lima. Crossing the street, as I have said before, is like taking your life in your own hands. But at rush hour, it is even more exciting. Several times we had to press through the eighteen inch gap between two busses in order to cross. Of course, once you get through, you're not sure if there is a speeding car waiting for you on the other side. We didn't make it all the way across the four-lane main street before the light changed. So we scrambled to crowd onto a two-foot wide median strip between in the middle. Paola, laughing, said, "it's pandemonium down here!" Which is a bit of an understatement.

The sidewalks are obstacle courses. First, you have to press through the hordes of people going home from work, all the while alert for pick-pockets. Then, you have to dodge the street vendors ("ambulantes") that populate all of the sidewalks selling things like: candy, corn bread, soup, fruit, currency exchange (you get a better rate on the street than in the bank), cell phone cases, sandals and more. I bought a pair of Adibdas [sic] sandals from one of them for 5 soles ($1.25) to wear in the house. Finally, after running the gauntlet, and surviving the street crossings, we arrived at The Hole.

It seems that public officals are trying to take back the streets from criminals. Everywhere I have been, whether in the suburbs, or in downtown, where this are lots of people, there is a policeman somewhere nearby. And the police I've talked to are always courteous and helpful. It's a very different reality than the image I had before. It will be interesting to see if Huancayo is like Lima in this respect.

The Hole is a huge underground market - litterally. I was pleased to see a meaningful police presense in The Hole, because if there weren't, it would be very dangerous to go there. I did not miss the irony when, after entering, Paola asked a policeman where we would find music. He directed us to the right sector - the area where they sell contraband, pirated music.

I am not sure how it was built, but when you look up you realize that if there were any kind of meaningful earthquake, nobody would escape. (Later that night there was a story on the news about a simulated earthquake in The Hole - to test emergency response.) The shops for music are mostly little more than a closet, about 25 square feet of floor space, with CD shelves from floor to ceiling. All of the CDs seemed to be well organized within the shelves. In most of the places we went, one CD costs two soles (about 60 cents) and 1.3 soles if you buy ten or more. (I bought 14. I had to do my part to contribute to the criminal world.) The CDs all appear to be new blanks, nothing is written on them.

Sewer Overflow

After leaving The Hole, we looked for an Internet cabina. We found one in another hole. There were two entrances, both inclined downward toward the point where they intersect. At the intersection is a restaraunt. As we entered, we noted a strong smell of urine. While Coco and Paola used the internet, I explored the building and learned that a sewer had overflowed. The people in the restaraunt were sweeping the dirty water out (a few customers remained in the restaraunt).

We returned to the apartment in taxi. The driver was an old man, in his 70's, the first taxista I've met who doesn't drive like a mad man. He told me that he retired after closing his business - an HVAC shop - when the building owner raised the rent. Now he is saving his money to go to Catelonia, Spain, to see his daughter. According to him, the government of Toledo is a failure. He promissed a lot, but has done nothing. He thought I was Italian (he's the second person to ask me if I am Italian).

Will El Chino Return?

2005-12-14T18:45:00.000-08:00

There are several people running for President to take Alejandro Toledo's place when his term expires next year. Amazingly, amoung them is Alberto Fujimori - again!

Morning News

2005-12-14T18:42:00.000-08:00

If you think the news in the US is depressing, you should watch the news in Lima. First, a story of a man, about 40, who was murdered by a gang for the purpose of robbing him. In order to prevent him from escaping, they stabbed his leggs and then beat him to death. Next, a thief, hit by a combi trying to escape after robbing a taxista. Then, a police candidate who mysteriously is found dead on the toilet of a gun shot which entered under the chin and left throught the top of the head - an apparent suicide - although not conclusively so. Then, a young girl who comitted suicide by hanging. Afterward, three teenagers found dead on a South-Lima beach - apparently caught off-guard by a big wave and drowned. And finally, the story of the kidnapping of a mother's son, by the parents of her ex. They were never married, but lived together for 5 years when she decided she had had enough abuse, and left. The "ex-mother-in-law" was interviewed by phone - and the coldness of her heart was trully chilling.

Then some more commercial messages.

2005-12-14T18:37:00.000-08:00

Traffic

There is a lot of irony with the way the traffic is here. Everywhere you look, there are stop signs, and "stop" painted on the streets. Yet, even during the day, most taxistas pay no attention to them. Helme told me that nobody looks in their blind-spot either; they rely upon their horn to tell other drivers that they are there, or to avoid accidents.

I've also seen many signs saying, "respect pedestrians." Crossing the street is a life-or-death experience. Drivers simply don't let pedestrians pass in most cases. You just have to wait for an opportunity, and run! Between the running and the long-distance walking, I should loose a lot of weight on this trip.

Custers and Ace Home Center

2005-12-14T18:32:00.000-08:00

Today Helme and I went into town on a custer, a bus that holds about 10 people. The custer has a driver and a cobrador (money collector). The cobrador hangs out the door and calls out the destination of thecuster and collects the money from the passengers. For 1 sole total (about 18 cents each) Helme and I traveled about 3 miles to the local Ace Home Center.

Ace Home Center (a division of Ace Hardware) is a huge hardware and home-imrovement store. As we walked in, someone excitedly told me that there was a sale on matresses upstairs, and handed me a flyer afterwhich I stopped an employee, excitedly told him about the sale and made him take the flyer!

Always the technician

2005-12-14T18:23:00.000-08:00

Helme and I went to down-town Lima to buy computer parts. (No, I never seem to stop being the technician and all-around mister-fix-it.) The store, Wilson's, is in a part of Lima that rather ugly and dangerous. Inside, there are small shops with all kinds of computer parts, computers, laptops and other electronics. In addition, there are all kinds of people selling pirated software and music.

I brought with me most of the parts to build a computer apart from the case, floppy, CD and monitor. We bought everything except the floppy for about $120 - with a used monitor. The prices are a little better than in the US, but not enough to make a difference. (I would have brought a complete system except for the weight.)

On the way down, I had a long conversation with the taxista. He said that Peru's big problem is corruption and the fact that the young people have no hope of a better life than their parents. Young people often graduate the university as engineers or even doctors and lawyers, to find that there is no gainful employment to be had in their profession (thus the saying that if you need a doctor in Peru, call a taxi, the driver may be a doctor). There are many reasons for this, including the fact that there are no solid educational standards. Thus, if you can't afford to go to a big-name university, your degree is often worthless.

I started my return conversation, as we passed the "palace of justice" by saying to the taxista, "ah, over there is the palace of injustice!" He laughed and proceeded to tell me that I was exactly right; that it is worthless to go to court - the cases go up to appeal, back down, back up - like a yo-yo, never ending. This taxista has been driving for 30 years. We stopped at a light and someone was selling a fruit I hadn't see. When I asked he what it is called, he call the vendor - 'hey, uncle, how much is that small one?" The man took it from his bag (a Mambo about the size of a softball, with a see like a golf ball), whipped-out a knife and quickly cut into a shape like a rose and gave it to the taxista - it cost 50 cents. As we drove away he said, "I invite you" - that is to say, 'here, have some (on the house)' and gave me a piece. He gave some to Helme also. When he dropped us off, he helped us with our things. I gave him a tip of about 90 cents - 1/2 of what he asked for to take us from down-town back home (a trip of about 20 minutes).

Afterward, Coco and I walked to the supermarket to buy some things for Helme to cook for dinner. He is studying to be a chef in a branch of Le Cordon Blu (Western Culinary Institute in Portland is another branch) in Lima. Beside the groceries, I found mate de coca (a tea made with the leaves of the coca plant). People drink mate de coca to help with altitude sickness. (As I write, I am drinking my cup. It tastes like most herb teas.) It it impressive what he has learned. At breakfast he was explaining to us how chronic constipation can result in what appears to be allergic reaction in the skin. Now, as he is cooking, Paty asks him about healthy cooking practices and he teaches his grandmother various techniques for cooking. They treat him like the expert his is becoming; and I feel a sense of pride for his accomplishments.

Misc pictures

2005-12-14T17:47:00.000-08:00

If you get out of line while making your color copies, they zap you with a Laser Canon!

2005-12-12T20:14:00.000-08:00

I woke up about 930 local time to the sound of birds chirping very loudly. It is amazing that in a city this big, with so much traffic, one hears the sounds of birds - loud enough to wake one from sleep. Sebas had come earlier, with his uncle Coco, Paty's brother. After breakfast, we all went together to accomplish the day's missions.

I had planned to go to the "Swiss Clinic" (which was recommended to me by a friend) to get vaccinations even before we arrived. I thought it was well know, so I didn't look it up before I left. After driving around for a while, I asked the taxista to take us to an internet cabina. I gave him one sole (about 35 cents) and asked him to wait for us for a few minutes. (I liked him, and the way he drove - so it worth paying him to wait.) I found the address of "Swiss Lab," not "Swiss Clinic," near the American embasy on the internet. He took us there, and I paid him an additional $3.00 for the trip; I didn't have soles, so I told him that with the conversion it was a little more than he had asked, so he was happy.

After the vaccinations, we walked about half a mile to a "Parvo's Chicken." There we ate pollo a la braza . For 5 people, each with half a chicken and a huge serving of frys, plus a pitcher of chica morada and a salad we spent $30. It was a bit expensive, but good. The chicken is cooked on a rotissery over wood, not electric heat. The frys are made with a very yellow potato, and are much better than what I've had in the US.

Tonight we went to the suppermarket. In every isle there are people who answer questions, hand-out samples or sweep the floors. The store has a tremendous variety of things housewares and electronics, tires, cleaning supplies, food, etc. And the crowd of customer was incredible.

Base Camp

2005-12-12T20:11:00.000-08:00

The apartment that Mama Eddy rented in Lima is fantastic. It has four good size bedrooms, two full baths, beautiful hardwood and tile floors a medium-sized kitchen, a nice living room, and a fenced yard. She pays less than $300 a month. We be making this our base camp for a few days.