A Night in the Plaza

I didn't realize before I arrived in the quiet mountain city that Cajamarca plays an important role in the history of Peru and the Spanish conquest. It was here in 1532, that Francisco Pizarro and less than two-hundred Spaniards took the Inca Emperor Atahualpa prisoner and began to dismantle his empire. The irony is that Atahualpa had just defeated his half-brother Huascar for the throne and was expecting to march into the capital city of Cuzco to be crowned sole ruler of the empire. But it was to not to be. (For an interesting account of the Spanish conquest, you can read Kim MacQuarrie's The Last Days of the Incas). 

Today, there are are few signs of those troubled days. The city itself is nestled in a valley, surrounded by the ever-climbing Andes Mountains. The city square, Plaza de Armas, where the battle took place is now quiet. Like most Spanish colonial cities, the Plaza de Armas is an oasis of calm in comparison to the hodgepodge of shops and markets in the immediate vicinity. The Plaza has a fountain, long stretches of green grass, and plenty of benches for people to rest and catch up with neighbors throughout the day. In fact, once the sun goes down, the Plaza fills with locals who swap stories and enjoy the cool Andean evenings. The Plaza is surrounded by a combination of churches, government buildings, and restaurants. At any time during the day there seems to be a mass or demonstration going on. The only nod to history is a series of plaques describing the capture of Atahualpa and his untimely fate.

On my next to last night in the city, I wandered down to the Plaza de Armas just after the sun had set. I was intending to enjoy the cool evening breeze and then make my way back to the hotel, when I was waylaid by the sound of music. As I was strolling by the main fountain, I saw a group of young women, dressed in black, guitars slug across their shoulders. They had just tuned up and were beginning their performance. As the notes came flowing out of their instruments and their mouths, a small crowd began to form. These young women were a group of university students from the city of Trujillo, a city six hours down the mountain, situated on the Pacific coast. Apparently, this group known as Tuna Feminina (although they looked nothing like the aforementioned fish), travels throughout the region putting on musical performances. I believe they were actually officially performing somewhere else earlier in the evening and now they were busking for traveling expenses. 

The performance was lively with the crowd singing along. For me, it was a great opportunity to practice my Spanish. As the music continued, the women swapped instruments and took turns singing lead and harmony. At a certain point, they decided that it was time to grab an audience member and dance. Of course, they came right for the foreigner, me! I have absolutely no problem dancing except for the fact that I have absolutely no sense of rhythm. I literally have two left feet. It is especially difficult to do Latin dances since it involves rhythm. I can either move my feet or my hips but not both at the same time. Regardless, what I lack in style I make up for in enthusiasm. So off I went, stepping and shaking and spinning. I think I did a fairly decent job as there was not too much laughing at my expense. The main issue seemed to be the altitude. Even after two days, I still was short of breath even when walking at a pace. You can only imagine how it felt to exert so much energy dancing! 

As the performance ended, I made my way back to the hotel. Huffing and puffing, I was happy I decided to wander out into the Plaza de Armas that night. Perhaps I will cross paths with the Cajamarca, the ghosts of Pizarro and Atahualpa, and Tuna Feminina, again...

Rock Solid

"Peru - It's More Than a Pile of Ruins." I think that would make an apt slogan for the Peruvian board of tourism. Many people come here for Machu Picchu and the hundreds of ruins scattered throughout the country. Ruins are an excellent reason to visit, but there are so many other things to enjoy that do not revolve around crumbling architecture. Case in point is Cumbemayo, a natural rock formation high up in the Andes Mountains in Northern Peru, not far from the city of Cajamarca. Cumbemayo is also an example of how the earliest Peruvians modified their harsh surroundings to survive and prosper...until the Spanish came along. 

In order to see Cumbemayo, you first have to get there. It's not an easy walk down the street or a short combi ride to the next village; rather it involves a bumpy tourist bus ride eight hundred meters up a winding mountain. As the bus ascends from the beautiful city of Cajamarca, the topography, and the people, change dramatically. The higher you go, the drier it becomes. Unless you live in the jungle or in the mountains during rainy season, Peru is a very dry country. Usually, the cities are watered daily by a fleet of hydration

trucks. It's easy to forget how arid everything would be without this massive infusion of water. But as you climb to higher altitudes it is easy to see how quickly the water, and thus the greenery, disappears. There are also more political, desperate signs from the people. I saw some graffiti on a house that translated into, more or less, "Forget Politics, Give Us Water". And boy did these people need water, and a whole lot more. As the meters ticked higher, so did the poverty level. I saw families camped on their front stoop, making a pot of soup for themselves and whichever pedestrian wants to buy it. There were many shoeless children, women with heavy bundles on their backs, and older folks out walking the family cow or goat. In addition to lack of water, many of the homes seemed to lack electricity and sanitation.

                

When Cumbemayo does come, it appears from out of the blue. As the bus rounds the twisting mountain road, everything suddenly levels out and there are the stone pillars. You can't help but miss these structures sticking out of the ground in clumps, much like groups of trees. In fact, people refer to these geological outgrowths as stone forests. They are dotted around the landscape and are connected together by a series of paths. This is the normal tourist route that we took, starting at a hotel/restaurant complex (nothing fancy) and winding through a series of rock formations. These volcanic pillars have been worn down over time, slowly taking many different forms. The main group of pillars are called Los Frailones (The Friars) because they look like Catholic brothers, walking with their cassocks over their heads. Other formations are reported to look like a human head, a crocodile, and an eagle. Personally, due to a lack of imagination and the need for stronger glasses, I didn't see the animal shapes, but that was besides the point. Walking along the path and through the valley, it was easy to be lulled into a bit of a trance; overwhelmed by the "bigosity" of nature. 

The natural geography is not the only reason to go to Cumbemayo, there is also the human element. Many centuries ago, the pre-pre Incan people made this solitary land their home. Much like the the citizens of today, getting water was a concern. But how to get that precipitation down the hill and into the valley? One word Benjamin, "Aqueduct". In Quecha the words "Cumbe Mayo" mean "Narrow River" which is just another way of saying "Aqueduct". The ancients used instinct and nascent technology to create a nine kilometer aqueduct that winds through the rocks, down the mountain, and into a reservoir (long since vanished). It is amazing to see how well they constructed it; time has done little to alter its course or shut down its flow. But these mighty settlers didn't stop at the aqueduct! They also built a small stone bridge and what looks to be an altar. There are also a number of petroglyphs dotted around the landscape. What do they mean, no one seems to know. I'd like to think in is some ancient egg-salad recipe. But hey, maybe that is just me. 

I could have spent all day wandering around the stones structures; unfortunately, for intrepid travelers such as myself, visitors are required to take a tour. So we finished our excursion, walking past another set of locals hawking their wares or asking for a picture with livestock, and headed back to the urban oasis that is Cajamarca. The trip back to the city seemed much quicker but memories of the day's visit still linger. 

Semana Santa - Jesus, Did I Have a Good Time!

Holy week, Semana Santa, is quite a spectacle throughout Latin America. Beyond the devotion of the faithful, what makes the holiday so awe-inspiring is the mix of Christian and Incan (and pre-Incan) traditions. Walking through the streets of many Peruvian cities, visitors will witness processions of saints, traditional dances in full native costume, fireworks, and lots and lots of food. The place to be, or so I'm told, is the city of Ayacucho where worshipers are encouraged to inflict 'sorrows' on others in honor of La Virgen de los Dolores (Our Lady of the Sorrows) during the procession in her honor. Although I was not able to partake in the festivities there, I did find time to visit the great city of Arequipa, high up in the Andes Mountains. 

When I arrived on Thursday afternoon, a mere three days before Easter, I was not quite prepared for the crush of locals and visitors alike crowding around the city's beautiful central square, Plaza de Armas. That very afternoon, actors were reenacting the Passion of Christ. Why this was not done on Good Friday, I do not know. From what I hear, a bigger and better-er version of the Passion takes place in the small, nearby town of Paucarpata. Either way, the reenactment happening in the plaza was impressive in its own right. The entire square became a stage, as various actors played Jesus,

Pilate, various Roman soldiers, as well as peasants who jeered, and later, cheered, the Son of God. As the characters moved from point to point, hordes of the faithful as well as curious tourists, trailed along, taking pictures. I was able to catch the end of the spectacle, as 'Jesus' was taken down from the cross and laid to rest. Later, Roman soldiers are awakened by a trembling of the ground (no, not another Peruvian earthquake) and, up upon the stage, appears the resurrected Jesus of Nazareth. Yes, I saw Jesus and I was moved...moved...moved to want to eat. Fortunately for all of us, dinner was right around the corner and in the streets. As the day slowly faded and the streetlights came up, the tables came out. Apparently, the citizens of Arequipa place dinner tables along some of the most prominent streets of old town and open up shop. I'm not sure if a person needs to register or what; regardless, the party starts rolling around seven in the evening. The streets smell incredible, as the flavors of cooking meat, soup, and vegetables fill the air. Meanwhile, earnest pilgrims solemnly march to the seven main churches, saying prayers and lighting candles. Things were still going strong when I headed back to my hotel around midnight. 

And the next day, Good Friday? Nothing. Just as the streets had been filled with revelers and penitents the night before, the city was now still. Upon reflection, I guess the Good Friday processions were going on over in  Paucarpata but I also believe that the day is set aside for rest and reflection. It is also a day to be with family, as I realized when I went to visit my friend Isabel. After a day of touring the city and seeing the great volcanos Misti and Picchu Picchu, we stopped by her house for a typical Good Friday meal. I was warned that there would be a lot of food and that was no lie. We started with homemade ceviche. Anyone who has had this raw fish dish knows about its great

mix of flavors: citrus, salty, spicy, and earthy all at once. I would have been happy with that but was then presented with a bowl of chupe. Chupe is another fish dish, served with Peruvian corn, squash, a large chunk of sea life, and caviar. No, this is not some fancy caviar you put on toast, rather it is all strung together and put in the so up. You are not supposed to completely eat it; rather, you chew on it until it almost becomes fish-egg bubble gum at which point you politely spit it out on the side of your plate. After a sugary-sweet dessert, everyone retreats to the living room or bedroom to snooze off a well-deserved food coma. 

The end of Semana Santa comes swiftly afterwards. On Saturday night, I was back at Plaza de Armas and I ran into another procession. Around six o'clock in the evening, from the Iglesia de San Francisco, emerges one of the most impressive statues of the Virgin Mary. On preceding nights, visitors to the church could come and pray before the statue, which was standing behind (imprisoned?) a metal gate. Worshipers could also, for a price, have an article or trinket blessed by

having an attendant place it upon the statue. The procession is quite a sight to behold: a line of worshipers following the statue which is surrounded by candles. Priests lead the worshipers as they walk, stop, and pray their way around the plaza. As a non-worshiper, I did my best to stay out of the way, while snapping some photos; others were not so polite. Still, the procession was a nice lead-in to Easter Sunday when the churches fill, yet again, for a final round of worship. The rest of the day, Arequipans head home to eat or head out into the sunshine to enjoy the last rays of summer. 

A final note to finish my story. While many cities and towns hold these incredible Semana Santa events, most Peruvians, I am told, head to the beach instead of the church. As this is the end of summer in the Southern Hemisphere, people want to take advantage of the last weekend of swimming and enjoying the sun. Many of the most impressive celebrations happen in the Andes, where traditions still hold despite the changing times...Thank God!