5:50 am: "It's time to go! You are going to miss your bus!"
I leap out of bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes, shaking alcohol out of my head, and tearing on my clothes. Black jeans, green shirt, brown jacket, shoes. Done. Where is my bag? Empty. AH! Throw everything inside bag, run out the door. No passport. Run back to house, grab ID.
Finally, 6:05 am, we are on the way to the bus station. We clamber out of the cab, and wait around in the bus station for a while before buying the tickets. That's one thing about Peru, time is different here. Everything runs a little bit slower, with less organization. I am exhausted after having slept for only a few hours the night before, and slightly drunk still thanks to the rum.
I am sitting next to someone I barely know, Braulio, who is one of our students at Horizon. He is 35 or so, and we each try to make conversation relatively unsuccessfully a few times on the bus, but I am tired and pensive.
The music in my one working headphone is on shuffle as we cruise through the desert and dilapidated buildings, shacks in some cases.
I try to sleep, but my brain stays awake. The bus slows down and stops. Braulio says everyone's least favorite word in Peru, "Policia." Everyone scrambles for their ID, and two of my fellow gringos are escorted off the bus because their IDs are not passports. The Spanish speakers of the group, Braulio included, get off the bus as well, leaving myself and one other volunteer to wait nervously. 20 minutes later, all the white people get back onto the bus and explain that the cops just needed 20 soles and to scare some tourists.
For the few of you that are not acquainted with Peruvian currency, 20 soles is approximately $7.19.
In all seriousness, the police here are not to be trifled with. Many are corrupt, extortionate, and drug involved. Luckily these guys just needed a little bribe to get them moving along. The bus revs up again and we continue our trek, climbing the mountains. Suddenly in the middle of our two lane highway, my fellow volunteers start collecting their things. I slip my ipod into my pocket and we get off the bus in the middle of the road. Across the two lanes is a small farm in front of a river, all dwarfed by the most beautiful mountains I've ever seen.
The bright green is rice, the river is behind it, and the mountains are stunning. We put our things down and went for little walk around before lunch. On the walk, we saw a decapitated sheep head, chickens in a coop, chickens not in a coop, two fruit-looking things that we then learn are actually sheep testicles, and sheep skin, in addition to the rice farm and the river. We walked back up to the house and sat down for lunch. The sheep head was missing, and the meat atop the rice and lentils had a flavor I had not had before and was not fond of. Then they brought out a plate of ceviche (raw fish, lime, chili, other spices), which everyone loves and immediately gorged on. After repeated exclamations regarding the delicious taste, Braulio informed us that it was not actually fish in our ceviche, but sheep testicles. Everyone was a bit shocked, but it was good so we kept going, obviously making inappropriate jokes as we ate.
After lunch we went to swim in the river, which moved quickly in some parts but generally was quite nice. We pulled our clothes on back at the house and began the walk to Quinden, the town. If you could call it that.
We walked for ten or twenty minutes on the two lane highway and then through the dirt roads to our hostel. The owner was a kind woman who spoke no English but was quite hospitable. I hit my head on the doorframe on the way into my room, which should surprise no one, especially given that the doorjambs are much shorter than in the states. Even so, unsurprising. The bathroom at the farm was actually a concrete slab with a hole cut into in surrounded by a metal tent with a very blowable curtain as a door. If a truck goes by while you are squatting into the hole, everyone can see you. As a result, I really needed to use the bathroom when I arrived in Quinden. Kellie went first, and came back within a minute complaining about birds in the bathroom, a large turkey in particular. I did not care about some stupid birds, I needed to GO, so I went into the bird room. The birds were mostly perched on a branch, with a few chickens on the ground. I did my thing and realized I had to put the toilet paper in the trash can (you can't flush tp here, at all). There was a chicken atop the wastebasket, but he didnt seem to mind when I lifted up the lid. The real issue was that I could not find the flush button or lever. After some unsuccessful hunting, I decided to ask the nice owner, so I walked past the birds to find her. She explained that I needed to fill up a bucket of water and dump it into the basin of the toilet. Ok, no problem. I had to do it twice because the first time it still didn't work, and when I emerged from the curtain separating the toilet from the rest of the birds, the turkey had had quite enough of my shenanigans. He was on the ground, and he looked at me with his scary, beady eye. I slowly tried to edge past. He released a turkey shriek from hell and charged, puffing his feathers and beating his wings at me! I stuck my foot out and pushed him away, which did not help him feel better. I started yelling for help as the turkey attempts to eat my toes through my shoes, and the nice owner runs in, brandishing a broom at the devil bird and crying, " Vamos, vamos!" I definitely ran out of there and needed an escort for every other bathroom trip in that house.
I have a newfound respect/fear for turkeys now, and will only tolerate them on my plate.
Anyway, we went to dinner after the turkey attack and ate some tamales and soup. Soup is a big thing here, people eat it for most meals. After dinner, someone produced beers and the adults stood in a circle. We had one cup and one bottle of beer open at a time. We took turns with the alcohol and everyone was feelin good pretty soon. I couldn't understand most things that were said, but the beer was nice and so was playing with the kids after a bit of drinking. Ellen learned how to pop the top off a beer bottle by using another beer bottle. In my enthusiasm to find out how to do this, I got shot in the eye by a beer cap as it flew off the top of the bottle. Luckily it didn't change color or anything. After hide and seek, the whole town played a game of bingo, which was really disorganized and full of bingo enthusiasts. Kellie and I went to get some rum and we drank with the other volunteers and some of the older townsfolk.
SOmeone suggested we go look at the stars, and I ran outside to do so. I was the only one though, and all of a sudden someone was saying come back inside, pulling me back in. Apparently I had run into a street with four or five armed (with semis probably) and masked men, who were acting as curfew enforcers. Oops.
I kept drinking with the other people until bed. The next morning, we were up bright and early to go climb a mountain.
We hopped on the back of some motorcycles instead of walking back to the farm. First time on a bike! It was lovely, it was around nine, so the sun was up and the farms were lush with the river winding through them, the mountains in the background. If I hadn't lost my phone I would have tried to get some pics.. sorry lol
Back at the farm, everyone ate breakfast while I wrote in my journal, after which I ate some bread and had some tea, and everyone else went to take a nap. The beds were full, and Braulio said he was going to visit his sister- did I want to come? I went, and stuck my head out the window on the ride there. His sister wasn't at home, so we went for some beers, along with his friend Carlos, who was driving. We went back to the sisters and talked for a bit before heading out for some lunch- ceviche time. We went to a restaurant in Quinden and spent at least 2 hours, probably more like 3 and a half, eating, and drinking beers. It was four of us, we met up with one of the teachers of a school and he joined us. As I drank more beer, my spanish improved immensely which was great, but is now frustrating as I cannot speak a lick of it again. The four of us went through 14 beers, so we were feelin good as we drove back to the farm.
Once back, we went swimming in the river again, which was quite enjoyable with a little buzz going. Then we (8 people) piled into a car with Carlos and his friend Gringo, and set out for the 3 hour drive. Not too fun but well worth the trip.
