Putting the laundry into the washing machine I had to concentrate to keep my loose ring from slipping in with the clothes (the same ring I almost left behind in the Sudbury bus station this morning). Congratulating myself on my careful attention to detail and simultaneously checking my watch.....my watch??!?!? WHERE iS MY WATCH?! Luckily I saved her from the water cycle before it was too late.

Maybe I was tired from the 13 hours of bus time I put in to come home after two days in Guelph. It did not feel like 8 months had passed since the last time I was in the city. I really had no real sadness or longing to be back but did get to chill with some great peeps. My time also introduced me to the possibility of creating some of my own fun board games. For example, Hoopla, from the cranium company, could be created, with a bit of work, from magazines, a computer and printer and some laminating. I guess an oven timer too.

Full of Rink food

Saturday was my 'one month back in Canada'. To celebrate I came to Pittsburgh with my uncle for 5 days. I can't really complain since they treat me soooo well here. Tonight my uncle and my cousin and I watched the Penguins win their 10th straight game (of not losing) against the Rangers. It started on a positive note with the first fight 7 seconds into the game. It was also Maldik (oh, you know who I mean!), his second hat trick in the last few games. I can officially say I have seen Sidney Crosby play (and assist) even if I only found out who he was on Friday.

It was established that the hockey crowd of a sold out 17000 fans was the largest group I have been in the midst of (sentence technically over in a preposition....). On the way there I asked if I was the only one whose heart beats a bit faster whenever I realise I will be in a big crowd. Apparently I was the only one in that car. Once I'm there I have fun but arriving stresses me real good. My heart didn't thank me for the ice cream and nachos either but I ate some whole wheat toast for breakfast.

Did I say I get treated well? Tomorrow is Bodies: The Exhibition. Basically a rip-off of Bodyworld; which is exactly why I want to go. Wednesday night my aunt and I will sit 17 rows from the stage to see the Lion King. First pro sports game live, first theatre live, skinned human bodies -- how lucky can a girl be?

I crack myself up

I go over to friend's house Friday afternoon. She happens to have a 4 year-old son and another baby of unidentified sex on the way. I managed to convince the 4 year-old that, if the baby happens to be a girl, she should have the name Cinnamon (cute, no?). He was skeptical at first but I persisted with my winning arguments (no, dude, its cool). He also added the brilliant plan that if, for some unknown and unexpected reason a Y chromasome ended up in the genes he should be 'Dinnamon'. Brilliant. Why didn't I think of that? Too bad he doesn't have more sway with his parents.

Running out of Sheep

For the first few weeks back home my problem was just getting too much sleep. Out by 1am, awake by 11....12....1230pm. Very unusual for me but I went with it (partly because I had no way to fight my unconscious turning off the alarm). But now it is becoming INSOMNIAC II. A bit of an exaggeration, I realize people struggle with insomnia for months with hardly any sleep. However, it feels like insomnia. For about a week I have been faithfully 'laying me down to sleep' (thank you Sophie B. Hawkins) before, or close to, midnight. Maybe watching some e.r. and reading to finally attempt sleep when good and tired around 130am. I realize these could be the first of many mistakes, maybe I should be hitting the bed at 630 each night when I could put my head on the table beside my broccoli and drool onto my napkin. Anyway, the whole point of this ramble (See! Not enough sleep!) is that I end up lying awake until 7am or later going completely crazy. Last night I was partly overwhelmed by thinking about stuff (you know, deep stuff) but most of the other times I just plain couldn't sleep. I hope it doesn't come to drinking warm milk....ew.

In my shortened days I have already been able to meet with my new friend twice. The family moved here from Mexico 5 years ago, at first temporarily but has become permanent. The couple's 11 year old daughter is in French emersion during the day so I hang out with the wife and their 3 year old son. It is good for both of us since we switch back and forth between Spanish and English (her English is quite good, she just doesn't have english-speaking friends). The little boy just speaks Spanglish.

Getting my life together

I am cleaning out my room today and need to be utterly ruthless about what is keepworthy. Finally my whiny old grade 8 journals are headed out. I realize that sometimes those things are worth keeping, but these aren't. It's like being on deviantart.com, I had no idea I was so emo (and so ahead of the times!).

The things a mother does for her children. There is a new Mexican couple at her church and knowing that I am still searching for Spanish speaking friends she introduced herself and asked if they would give me a call (yes, I always make my friends through my mom). But the best part: they did! Today! I'm going over tomorrow to meet with the wife who speaks little English. It sounds like it is going to be a language trade but I may have to brush up on my English grammar if she wants real lessons.

Considering gambling as an alternative

My bank account is at its lowest since it opened. My total worth is less than $100 (i thought that was supposed to happen as a student!). This is a result of my decision to take a class at the local university however I may not be able to buy the book for the first few weeks haha. Which gets me to the real thoughts:

1. Getting to Guelph this month may be somewhat unrealistic.
2. That makes me sad
3. I can appreciate living in my parents home for free right about now.
4. I really need a job but I hate looking and my pride keeps me from wanting to try places of 'lower status'. I mean really, I have an undergraduate degree.....

Why can't I just want to be a teacher???

We used to call that 'goth'

Tonight could be classified by feeling very 'dated'. We didn't even have emo when I was in school. And one would have a pretty hard time getting into a band without owning Converse sneakers. Alas, one more item to add to the list of why I will never be in a band. (1. no musical talent, 2. not cool enough, ....). We hung around for three bands tonight at a local all ages show. It had to be all ages so that the bands could get in apparently.

But the second band, only three dudes of just 15 (at least the lead singer) really rocked it. I really enjoyed their show and I'm not just referring to watching the drummer make hilarious faces while performing. The music was good. My favourite was easily their ode to Laser Cat followed closely by the Makeout, when No one is Watching (for the romantic types). They ended their set with a touching tribute.....to their bus driver. Takes away a bit of their street cred. Hey, at least they still have their Converse.

Titulo

These last few days I have been using my reading time to learn about a few select topics:

1. Physics and the universe. Thank you Stephen Hawkings for your "A Brief History of Time". Thank you for bringing insane concepts somewhere within my grasp. This book (so far) I would recommend, as long as you don't mind 'reflecting' (WHAT IS THIS? My brain hurts) and rereading paragraphs a few (5) times. The language is simple but right now most is based on the idea of space-time so picturing a 4D universe is a challenge (for me at least)

2. The life (haha) of cadavers in "Stiff" by Mary Roach. My brother bestowed this on me (although I may have asked for it) and I have soaked in the first third learning how cadavers are used in experiments to improve safety for us living.

3. Living a little more eco- and health-friendly from "Ecoholic", which is a how-to guide to buying the most earth-friendly products and cutting out some things all together. Simpler (although maybe not easier) ways of living and it is written FOR CANADIANS. No more suggestions that just aren't available here (no more excuses?)

In another book that fits more under the environment category is "The World Without Us". In this book I read one of the most beautiful ideas I have read in a long time. Lovely in a melancholy way because I can't fathom it happening and it saddens me to think about but I know it could be the best thing (in theory). Right, the theory. There is a group, the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement (VHEMT) that has suggested that the best world would be one where humans suddenly stop reproducing and slowly die out to leave the earth untaxed by our species to recover.

Here is the beautiful part. With no one new being born our responsibility falls to caring for only those who are already born, a finite number of individuals. In theory we would grow wiser upon reflecting on our demise and begin to care for those around us. Slowly there would be an end to homeless children, extreme poverty and war. I feel like I'm not doing justice to this concept. Of course in reality it would be sad. Maybe I would never have my own children. There would be no grandchildren either. In ten years there would be no small children which would be truly a loss. We all seem to want to leave a legacy as well. The idea of nothing replacing us, continuing what we have begun, remembering us, can be undesirable. But really, why? Once you leave the earth that's it, there is no going back (unless you think you can haunt). How about everyone just read the book or pages 241-244. Or check out the website.

Spoiled like my parents missed me while i was away

My inner child must still get giddy at the thought of Christmas surprises waiting in the morning (I was the only member of the family who didn't know exactly what they were getting since I insist on surprises) because it kept me up all night. The excited shaking doesn't happen any longer and I don't even consciously dwell on the next day but somehow I was still lying awake at almost 6am. Meaning my family has set a new personal record for present opening time: 9:52 am. start time.

The previous record being before 8am.

Waiting under the tree were a shiny new pair of snowshoes to continue my search for a winter passtime with exercise involved. Another sport that will soon bend to my will is skating. Three times so far since I have returned and I have steadily not sucked quite at much. I'm even warming to the girly skates, even if they may be put down by everyone else. The nice tails on the blades keep me from falling backwards, they are nice and tight (not too wide like boy skates) and even the pickies have their merits. Here's to me sticking with it.

The first thing we did this morning after opening and eating was watch HAIRSPRAY. As a celebration and a Merry Christmas I give you this link for your very own Christopher Walken treat.

My infectious namesake

My time back in Canada so far has been spent somewhat lazily. Seeing people as I feel like seeing people. Decorating. Trying a recipe or two. Sleeping until noon. It has given me the opportunity to start (and finish) A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. I believe that he has mastered the creation of heartbreaking tragedy, of capturing shame and disappointment, of knowing exactly what would have to happen to break the reader. He seems a bit of a tease or torturer, bringing each character to the absolute edge of destruction and then reviving them. It was beautifully written but completely unnecessary.

The next book propped beside me to be opened momentarily is quite fitting after having spent the evening watching I am Legend with Mark tonight (shout out!). The book is The World Without Us by Alan Weisman that explores how the earth would recover and repair itself if we were suddenly nonexistent and what we have managed to do that will be forever irreparable. Watch those plastic grocery bags.

Having just been in Peru and being thrown back directly into the oncoming path of the Santa Claus parade is a bit unsettling. My goal is to avoid the mall and Wal-mart until the New Year as much as possible. More than that I have been considering the idea of buying local, buying well-made and having less. I know, I go on about it quite a bit. But ask your parents: how many outfits did they have at one time growing up? Three? four? I don't know why I live such a disposable life. This Story of Stuff short film puts it very concisely and has a few noteworthy statistics.

Toilet paper goes where again?

From Peru to Canadian soil in less than 36 hours. Only 4 flights. My longest wait, in Lima, actually allowed me to spend a few hours in the VIP lounge sipping on a free Kaluha y leche, sitting in leather chairs while surfing the internet for free on snazzy computers. Little to report for the rest of my trip. Mark picked my stinky self up from the airport and smoothly got me across the border without a search which saved my fake movies and coca products from being confiscated.

Now to set to work trying to answer the question that i do not feel like being asked: 'now what'? Nope. Don't ask it. I don't know. Except I'm going to the movies tomorrow.

It´s beginning to look a lot like...June

The first signs of Christmas appeared in Arica, Chile seeming somewhat out of place amidst the palm trees and happy vultures. The plan was, when ariving in Arica, get hotel room, leave stuff there, have glorious glorious showers, bus to Nazca that night. That plan became: do all of the above except skip Nazca and spend two days in our seaside luxury overlooking THE PACIFIC OCEAN. That´s right folks, for $18 per night we lived it up with hot water, clean sheets and a patio view of the beach.

The town itself was reasonably hip as well. The biggest shocker had to be, after 3 months without the western capitalism snuggling up with me at night, the giant yellow arches in the shopping district. So like good westerners we went...you know, just to test if it was the same. One, no it isn´t. It is really fancy with western music blaring outside, IKEA chairs and a Chef´s menu (please, next time you´re in McD´s ask to meet the 'chef' and the 16 year old with zits will be happy to spit in your burger). Being not all that hungry I just ate a few fries but Kate polished off some burger meal and we went off in search of a sea museum. I believe we have a new guinness record because in no more than 15 minutes Kate was huddled on the ground trying to contain her aforementioned lunch when we located the museum just in time and desperately begged for sanctuary in the washroom before touring. You don´t need the details but let´s just say she won´t be going to that fastfood chain again soon.

Back on the shore away from the unsettling elves in department stores and misplaced holiday tunes we disturbed hoards of sea life to satisfy our curiosity. Vultures watched us from the palm trees, pelicans fled as I sneakily tried to get a better look and crabs shuddered back into the sand. We turned over rocks for hours finding anenomes, sea urchins, snails and so many fun creatures. From the dock I could watch the red-topped jellyfish float to their doom on the shore. I fulfilled my dream of walking along the shore as tide was going out and finding 'treasures' left behind by the sea. A few little crabby friends included.

Sadly the adventure had to end and we parted ways in Arequipa where I met a few friends (one german girl and two dudes from the US), stayed in a hostal that was once an old colonial home. We went out for Alpaca steak (yes, even I had to try it just once). My thoughts: wow, this is really good. This tastes very similar to what I remember steak tasting like. Oh no, do I LIKE STEAK?

Don´t sniff the sulfur

Pit stop for eight hours in San Pedro while waiting for the bus to take me to Arica. Why Arica? If you glance at a map you will see that it is situated on the coast of the PACIFIC OCEAN! It might be true that I have never seen that one. It is so hot with little to do other than shop (I only need so many tacky sweaters and tribal pipes) so we are taking refuge in an internet cafe. Three days ago I had not yet seen these things:

1. The honest-to-goodness-desert
2. A geyser
3. Chile
4. Flamingoes in their natural habitat (which happens to be much better on the eyes than nose) 5. Llamas, vicuñas, an andean fox, a long-tailed rabbit thing, a suri (kinda like an ostrich)
6. A volcano
7. Vast plains of salt
8. Desert stars

The trip was three days in a jeep with a brazilian woman, two dudes from Ireland and a French guy who only strengthened any French stereotype I have ever heard. Oh, and our Bolivian driver. It worked out that our plans changed to avoid Sucre because it is closed due to rioting. The accomodations each night were basic but warm however lacked washing stations. By last night we washed out hair in the miniature bathroom sinks with ice water allowing the little girls who lived there to dump nalgenes full of it all over our heads. It was worth it since we were later informed that we were 'amigas' and handed slightly wet handfuls of popcorn.

While drinking my jugo of pure kiwi in the town today I picked up a pamphlet about some geysers in the area similar to the ones we had visited this morning. It provided some 'necessary cautions for your visit' - All visitors must be something far from the geysers when coming nearer to them -In winter the low temperature freeze the water that fluid from the geysers, becoming slippery the ground, BE CAREFUL TO WALK - It is not recommended NOT TO INHALE nor to smell the emanations produced by the geysers, because they can be very dangerous And if incase, after all these warnings, you manage to fall into a geyser there are burn tips provided. Most important of all 'not to take away the rest of the clothes attached to the skin'. Boy, that makes me want to visit.

How many hours before blood clots set in?

Friday night my travel buddy and I left for Lake Titicaca with high hopes and few ideas of what to expect. Writing from the middle-of-nowhere-Bolivia I cannot give pictures of my journeys yet but take my word that it is another world entirely. The first stop on Lake T.caca were the floating Islands made entirely out of reeds which they also made their homes and sweet boats out of and ate for an afternoon snack. The taste of the reeds is like wet cardboard (but I light cardboard) but could be eaten in desperation.

On the bus I have been slowly reading the Bamba (read: illegal copy) of El Fin de la Pobreza (The end of Poverty) which has brought up many questions. Over 2000 people live 10 to 30 per island in the lake and subsist on fish, reeds (in abundance) and tourism. The reed huts now have their own solar panels to help them do many things, including watching TV. There are schools, a post office, fisheries and community events. No one appears to be malnurished. Would we call them poor? Likely they would counted into the category of Moderate Poverty by world standards but who are we to judge? If a group is happy in their lifestyle and can support themselves why do we have the right to call them ignorant and lacking.

The woman of the families on the Isle of Amantaní welcomed our boat at the shore to take us to our homestay. The new rise in altitude kicked butt again and the climb up the side of the mountain was somewhat painful. But we arrived to a very comfortable room overlooking their small garden plot and THE Lake. We found out later that we were not alone in our experience but in showing us their culture they demonstrated that they in no way wanted to talk to us. I should correct myself because the husband asked what country we were from. The wife brought us our delicious, delicious local food in our room where we ate alone by candle light. That night we were treated to the most intense lightning storm ever. What do you do when given fried dough for breakfast? Dip it in your tea, smother in sugar and pretend you are eating a Beaver Tail.
We entered into Bolivia yesterday in the afternoon where I had to pay a fine because I was given only 60 days in Peru according to their system even though it was corrected in my passport. Lesson: pay very close attention to how many days they have given you in a country. Luckily Peru is pretty forgiving so we promptly set off to walk into Bolivia.

It has now been almost 24 hours on a bus with a short stop in La Paz long enough to order coffee, leave before it was served and book a night long bus ride to Uyuni where we wait for our trip to the largest salt flats in the world (not to mention volcanoes, geysers and coloured lagoons) to be left at the Chilean border.

One more thing: Peru is a bubble bath compared to the cold shower of Bolivia. It just feels different. Maybe it the armed guards at all of the gas stations. Maybe it is the ghost-town like stops every hour or two on the bus and the nauseous making dirt roads throught the desert. At 2am we stopped for food for the first time since we got on the bus at 7pm to be treated to a choice of massive hunks of cheese, hard bread and bland coffee. We could have gone across the street for the same thing but we decided to wander around the bus in the eerie and deserted town. Goodbye catering to my every tourist wish, hello communism.

Estoy hasta las narices

We had our tickets and were ready to spontaneously take off a day early for Puno. The time was tight and packing even tighter but it was an entirely reachable goal. The only thing is I had to throw my leaving party at the orphanage a bit early and be home by 6 (I mean, 6:30, how about 7?). It was hard to leave especially since I thought I would have two more weeks before I decided to end my school and explore the country. They sang me a song (heaven help them all, I sang them a song) we ate cake, a few ones I spent more time with sang a horrible translation I did of the Hakuna Matata song. We took pictures. Luckily I will visit a few more times and bring photos whenever I am in the city and not travelling.

Wait, why didn´t we go? Kate´s phone didn´t work. But to understand this we will step back in time. I´m not sure what it is about her but she has been robbed or almost robbed three or four times. I must admit that she has taken it well every time. But this was the last straw. Wednesday she placed her phone in the front pocket of her sweater and secured it while downtown. Some bold person reached in and grabbed it. Took her phone! From her front pocket! The worst part is she grabbed him, he denied the accusation and promptly took off (like any innocent person would do). He was chased by a few men on the street but to no use. How did losing a phone delay our trip?

Something you need to know about Kate is that she is a great mom to her 10 year old son back home in Wisconsin. They had never been separated before and this phone was their lifeline through text messages, she could be reached anywhere. Even that didn´t stop her: she bought a new phone assured that it would send messages to the US and receive them so off I go to my party and her to get some last minute essentials. But I come home to find out it doesn´t work. We frantically tried to fix it but the store was closed. So we bought a popscicle and a beer (I really hate beer) and home we went to chill. Tonight should be different. What frustrates me is that the phone meant so much more to Kate than to that guy. He probably couldn´t even sell it because it doesn´t function other than for text in Peru. Right now it is surely in the bottom of a sewer drain somewhere in the city. Some people.

Just make a disgusted face

Here I am with just over three more weeks to go. My next big adventure will finally be a real trip within South America which means I will be going to the clinic tomorrow for my Yellow Fever vaccine. The Bolivian government prefers only vaccinated people and hey, it's good for 10 years so from having studied business I think it is a good investment.

The plan: myself and Kate (cool chick from Wisconsin who lives down the hall/balcony from me) will be leaving on next Friday evening to reach the famous Lake Titicaca (reknowned for being the highest freshwater lake and having some sweet sweet floating islands made of reeds). Once there we will spend a few days exploring and hopefully stay on an island with a local family. From there we will trek to Copacabana as our first stop on the Bolivian side of the border. One great thing about Bolivia: we get to divide all prices by 5! HEre in Peru it is by 3, but by 5!? I'm not sure what we will find in Copacabana but if nothing else we will get to sing that song while in the place. After we will just see how far we can get south east before we have to return for classes the Monday one week later. La Paz, Sucre, Potosi and (I hope!) Uyuni to see one of the worlds largest salt flats which becomes home to thousands of Flamingos in November.

To have a little fun we went out on Friday night to hear some live music and stumbled upon Nancy Flores at the local bar Ukuku's. THe goal of the night: listen to some good Peruvian music and maybe dance a little. Totally chill.

We had no idea we would come across the Peruvian version of 'Night at the Roxbury'. I can't even explain how perfectly these two men fit the profile but you'll have to trust me. Even though being well into their 30s they were obviously on the prowl. They consistently asked us to dance throughout the night which went something like this:

"Would you like to dance with us"
"No thank you" "C'mon. Why not?"
"Because we don't want to"
"Would you like to dance? No? That's cool, that's cool"
*stands awkwardly with friend bobbing (yes, I have to use the word bobbing) and hip thrusting to the music while scoping out the next prey

When they finally did find some women who accepted their less than charming ways they took up practically then entire dance floor. Not to mention the black lights highlighting a servere dandruff problem. At least if they had been good dancers. They were just the worst of the many who would use the trick of gradually dancing closer to us until we were technically dancing with them at which time we would promptly move away. That's the best that they have? The worst part is that we had left some coats on the couch we were sitting on to go dance but would return often to get something or sit down. The coats were there until close to leaving time but when we finally headed out they were no where to be seen. My rain coat (luckily with nothing important), Kate's raincoat (which she had bought about 3 minutes before entering the bar) and hoodie and scarf along with some money and ID. Our best guess: Chris Katan and Will Ferrell made off with them to "show us". They disappeared around the same time as the coats and would easily have known they were ours and when we were and were not paying attention. If I could go back in time I would still not dance with them to save my coat. You can come to Peru for a great adventure, beautiful scenery or even some Spanish but if it is a husband you're after I'd go somewhere else.

Tip: Kate has informed me that the most effective means of repelling unwanted and persistent suitors is to make an obvious face of horrible disgust and add an "ew" for good measure. They usually are unable to defend themselves against this

Now I have to see the rest of the Wonders

The city of Cusco offers one of the best places for a game of 'ultimate punch buggy'. What is that? Well it hinges on the ability to locate Volkswagen Beetles and then having at least one other person nearby that is sufficiently punchable. The extreme version requires many more Beetles, a keen eye for kitsch and fast fists. My neighbourhood here is perfect as the house to beetle ratio is about 4 to 1.

This week has been a bust for blogging but with good reason: Mark came to visit so I took some time off pretty much everything. No school, I was allowed to speak english and for sures, no blogging. The week went by so quickly although for him there is still another 24.5 hours of travel before he can call the vacation quits.

Lacking time to see everything the way I have been doing it (one place at a time by sketchy bus into the valley) we did the tourist thing for a few days. The Sacred Valley (pisac, ollantaytambo and chinchero) one day, city tour (sacsayhuaman and some other ruins) another day. I must admit that while riding a bus filled with only tourists does not exactly appeal the having of a guide made the ruins much more fascinating.

One of the highlights had to be the rice pudding. Oh, and Machu Picchu. Booked in advance for peace of mind all was set for wednesday morning to leave on the train at 7am. The only hitch: our 6:20am pick-up finally showed at 7:15. Train leaves at 7, we are picked up at 7:15 to catch train...problem anyone? After my host family kindly explained to the man the error of his ways and outed his various lies about us not being there waiting, etc. etc. he drove us to the next town to meet the train and we were off! Not without me inputting my two cents about my lack of confidence in the agency after I was denied a phone number to contact our guide for the next day even though I was told earlier I could have it (this coming after the late pick-up and both tickets having the incorrect names and passport numbers). For three days according to PeruRail we were Katie Vikking and Martha Jones. I

f you are ever to do Machu Picchu by train I am going to tell you how to do it. Take the train but stay overnight to visit the ruins the next day. Wake up before 5am to catch the 530 am bus in order to enter the ruins at the 6am opening. (We happened to be on the first bus to ascend the Cloud forest mountains of emerald green). Go into the ruins and stare incredulously because not only are they fantastic but you have beat the crowds and can see it without people milling around ruining your photos. Have a look around but be at the gate for Winay Picchu by 7am. Winay Picchu is a mountain right behind M.P. with a few ruins topping it and offering a view of the entire site from above. Our motivation for climbing so early was to hit the steep steps straight up when we still had breakfast in our tummies and it ended up being the most rewarding experience of the day. Only 400 people are allowed to climb Winay Picchu daily (all before 1pm) and we entered as #23 and #24 for November 8th 2007. 45 minutes of straight-up brutalness being unable to see anything off the side of the cliffs due to the dense fog covering everything. At the top we waited over an hour to finally see the fog shift and reveal part by part the ancient Inca city far below. Later take a tour with a guide. Pet the Llamas. Take train back that evening or early the next morning. It may be cliché, maybe we held tickets for this year numbering over 766,000 but there is a reason that this place attracts so many people. Even with the guide we were lucky and were led around the ruins by a man who wrote a widely published book about M.P. Another tip: everyone has to stay in Aguas Calientes beforehand. Bring playing cards and music. There is nothing there but expensive restaurants and expensive souvenirs. Although you could pass some time in the middle of the Urubamba River on giant granite stones. You could. If you wanted to.

Thank you Health Insurance

Having completed five weeks in this developing country without being sick it was time that my pride was kept in check. It came on after lunch yesterday and by the evening I was burning with fever and muscle aches. The doctor did a house call today since I stayed home from school and had nothing better to do; the verdict is that I have the flu. The actual flu, upper respiratory infection, muscle aches and fever, the one only old people get in the winter. For some reason lying down has to be one of the most uncomfortable things I could do right now so the chances of catching up on all the sleep I missed last night is small.


The funny thing is, other than this small set back, everything else seems to be rapidly getting even more fun. After a lull in enrollment of people under the age of 65 this week brought 5 others in their early 20s from Toronto, Texas, Wisconsin and Norway. Together we cabbed it outside the city to Las Salinas (spectacular salt flats I have already visited once) and climbed down the entire structure in order to follow the salt river canyon back to camp. It was one of the most amazing places I have ever been made all the better that nature didn´t just call but concripted me while in the canyon. Thank goodness for Puma-free caves.


Yesterday I became part of the history of Peru in their 2007 census. While I was expecting questions related to my stay in Peru I didn´t realize I would be writing down where I was born, how many children I have and my level of english literacy. For one day nearly the entire country was essentially on house arrest on order not to leave during census hours (6am to 6pm) so the family celebrated with a chill day and raw fish, the famous Peruvian ceviche (raw seafood 'cooked' in lime juice). The craziest part was IT WAS REALLY GOOD. Well, at least good. I would probably eat it again. That is so unlike me.

Be Agressive, be be Agressive

At first glance Cusco would appear to be a very 'gay friendly' city. Actually I think it is, just like many large Canadian cities but most don´t seem to advertise it as much as Cusco. That is what I thought until I discovered that the city flag happens to be a rainbow but purple in some other spot. I guess that explains why a main round-about near the city square flies a skittles coloured flag with its monuments.

My cheerleading title actually refers to the fact that being taken out of my comfort zone has revealed that I am a big wimp. My assertiveness level is comparable to my sporting ability. Atleast weekly, often biweekly, the adults in the orphanage I volunteer in blatantly ask me to purchase things. This isn´t exactly the centre of poverty either. I understand that they have little but never lack anything important. As soon as the pushing starts though my Spanish ability lessens, I shuffle the feet, anything to avoid the situation. It would be better for all involved if I could manage an outright NO. Today it was markers and supplies for a celebration. Project grow a spine is officially in progress.

Lastly, I had promised to share a bit more history, that of Wiracocha. I like to think of this story as one of the biggest You-Have-Got-to-Be-Kidding-Me´s ever. The word is that an Incan emperor was somewhat of an imperialist and also had some brains. He desired a unified (ie. easy to manage) kingdom and devised that the best way to accomplish this was to unify the pantheistic culture under one religion or God. He reached back into pre-inca culture and pulled up Wiracocha. Here is the kicker: Wiracocha was a God in man form, white, with the force of a beast and the awaited saviour of sorts. All was fine and dandy until, you guessed it, white dudes on horses (force of beasts) showed up demanding their share aka. all of the riches of the land. The great kingdom was mostly felled in just years thanks to a story. I can just picture the king making it up too: ¨Perfect. Like that´s ever going to happen¨.

With Hal Johnson and Joanne MacLeod

This entry is a bit on the tardy side. All weekend I was finally feeling inspired but unluckily it rained on Friday night so the phone and internet in house have been out for days. Its kind of nice because it gives me the illusion that I'm roughing it a bit (poor me with running hot water, ample food and cable TV). Some little things are missing or different that I would have thought.

Mantequilla de Mani (good old peanut butter) is sneered at here and very expensive. Luckily when I mentioned my craving my house mom produced a jar of real american Skippy that had been left behind by a previous student. I wonder what I could get for that on the street!

Milk doesn't come in the cold, bagged form. Warm boxed or condensed and canned. That I can't say I miss too much although it means cereal is a bit unrealistic and toasters are as rare as clean taxis (cab drivers) ie. I haven't seen either.

More than missing things here there is so much that just can{t be purchased or brought back to Canada. Where will I get my cocaine in Canada? On nearly the same level a very popular icecream here Locuma. It is hard to believe that soemthing so wonderful and sweet can come from the pulp of a nasty looking squash-like flora. I will not miss the warm papaya pulp for breakfast.

Now for a culture break. The Peruvian culture consists of Spanish colonialism and, as appears at first glance, indigenous Incan subjugation. However, if one looks a bit deeper it is something else entirely. The strict Catholic church has been infiltrated by the culture and beliefs of the incas, often at the time without its knowledge. Por ejemplo, it is common in paintings in the grand cathedral for there to be subtle changes to reproductions of European works like human forms in the shape of mountains. Interestingly, when the incas were put to carving the priest's chambers they put voluptuous naked women just under the arm rests of the chairs to stabilize what they believed was an imbalance in gender. One has to give them props for sneakiness. Even now Catholicism is often a front for their true beliefs. Tucked behind a door of the grand cathedral is an energy stone taken from a local mountain. Many indigenous people visit the church to tip the stone and feel its vibrations believing that it is a form of cleansing. As with Christian tradition many festivals here were first 'pagan' but converted by the Spaniards. For example, Corpus Christi. The locals used to take out their mummies and parade them around town each year in a great festival. Seeing this heathenism the Spaniards converted the day into one carrying representations of Christ's body. THe locals said thanks and stuck the images alongside their mummies and continued on their way. Another example of ingenuity: they had a sacred mountain which they completed pilgramages to which were subsequently forbidden after the arrival of the westerners. Not to be outdone they began claiming to have seen the form of Christ at the mountain and lo and behold the pilgramages resumed, Christian style. THe interesting thing is that today many Catholics still prostrate on that mountain unaware of the history of the 'sighting'. Next time you accept a tradition just because maybe take a minute to find out where it came from. For next time: the big oops of Wiracocha.