Living among the Incas

Soooo… I live in Cusco. What??! The other day I was walking down a street near the plaza and it just hit me: This isn’t some place that I have to take a million pictures of all at once because I’m leaving in two weeks. This is my home for four months. I can relax, take my time, and do my best to be part of it instead of just observing it.

Terraces built by the Incas on the side of the mountain:
 Still strong after all of these years.

And to convince me even further that this is more than a temporary living arrangement, mis clases have begun. And all of them in Spanish. So pretty much what usually happens for me in class in the United States is that I zone in and out, casually doodle, whatever, but still get the general gist of what’s happening. Yeah, that doesn’t work so well here. If I don’t actively listen to every single word that my professor says, I have absolutely  no idea what’s going on. No more of that zoning in and out crap. Nope, every second of every class I have to be actively listening. Now starting to realize how spoiled I’ve been…

So yeah. That’s a blast!

Now moving away from the whining and onto how damn cool this place is…

An Inca sized doorway

Sometimes I look around myself and I’m struck by how absolutely ancient everything here is. Never in my life have I been surrounded by the intact remnants of such an early time. Even in the city of Cusco where you’d think that everything would have been covered over or torn down, I walk down streets on a daily basis that were paved by the Incas. Though the Spanish tried their best to make this city theirs, the big earthquake of 1950 revealed just how intelligent Incan architecture was when the colonial Spanish buildings all crumbled to the ground, revealing their ancient foundations.

Our guide demonstrating how smoothly
 the Incas were able to cut their stones.

Yesterday we all did the tourist thing and took a tour of the Sacred Valley (check facebook for more photos soon, I’d like to think some of them are pretty neat). As we went from ruin to ruin, I couldn’t help but be continuously amazed by how intricate and sturdy the work of the ancient people was. Nothing they did was a mistake. Every stone was carved with unrivaled precision so that the walls could withstand earthquakes and landslides and still stand thousands of years later. They believed that if they lived a respectable life, they would one day be reincarnated and given the chance to live in their magnificent cities once again, and so everything was made to last. Like really last. We still might not understand how it’s possible that such an ancient people had so much wisdom, but that doesn’t mean that every single act wasn’t done completely intentionally with a larger purpose in mind. Not many generations ago, parents told their children that these ruins were left here by extraterrestrials. Even the people who’ve been around these places their entire lives have a hard time understanding the integrity of these prehistoric cities.

The sun shines directly on this point during
both Summer and Winter solstices.

What I came to realize is that with all of our technology and modern trappings, I had assumed that we were somehow more evolved, more intelligent, more aware than our ancient counterparts. But as I looked closely at the remnants of their civilization, I realized that I had made a huge mistake. Stupid people don’t build Machu Picchu. Sometimes we think that older generations, or people who don’t speak our language, or
people of different ethnicities are somehow less than us. That they don’t understand the same level that we do. Seeing what these ancient people were capable of was a very healthy slap to the face: They’re just older, not dumber.

And then we went to a bar and I taught my Peruvian host brother how to play beer pong... Cultural diffusion at its finest.

Many more adventures to come!

Chau,

Hannah

I have arrived!

Cusco, Peru. 3,400 meters in elevation. The navel of the earth. My home for the next four months. 

The past week has been absolute roller-coaster. Literally 8 days ago I was at Camp Chief Ouray finishing up my summer as a cabin counselor with some of the most inspirational, kind, and genuine people I've ever met. In the next 36 hours, I packed up everything I'd need for 4 months in Peru, spent some quality time with mom (thanks mom and dad so much for making that happen :), and drove to the airport. 

Every moment since then has been an ever-changing combination of excited beyond belief, lonely, adventurous, and scared shitless. So far I've hiked up a hill on the outskirts of Cusco to see a statue called Christo Blanco and some ruins called Sacsayhuaman (pronounced by all of the extranjeros as "sexy woman"), explored various streets and neighborhoods, witnessed one of my host sisters getting engaged, and gone to see an Argentinian rock band.

One of the many learning opportunities (AFGO's, for Melissa's reference) I've encountered along the way:

On the way up to Christo Blanco

I'll just start off by saying that the bus system here is very intricate. Basically these mini-van type vehicles pull up at predetermined street corners and someone in the bus will start screaming very quickly and shrilly in Spanish what their destinations are. So anyway, imagine you're on one of these buses for the very first time. You've heard that theft is pretty common, but you have your bag in front of you so that you can keep an eye on it and you're being pretty vigilant. As the bus gets closer and closer to your destination, it starts getting more and more crowded so that you end up getting pushed up against the wall of the bus with no room to spare. You're doing fine, soaking it all up, having an overall okay experience. You decide to look down at your bag once more to make sure that everything's still in order, and notice that some guy has his jacket over his hand and his hand is directly over your bag...... not cool. 

You quickly grab your bag to see if anything is missing and are not all too surprised to find that your iPhone has gone missing. Now you're pissed. You grab his jacket and search through it but can't find anything. In a moment of insecurity you think that maybe you're just being a crazy gringa and making a big fuss over nothing when you actually just left your phone back at the hostel, but then you decide to follow through with it and so with your infinite knowledge of Spanish, you look directly at him with a disgusted and angry fire burning behind your eyes and say "¡¿En serio?!" Very sassy. 

Then, you realize that you're the luckiest person in the entire world. Because in addition to a thief being on the bus with you, there also happens to be the most wonderful Peruvian policeman ever. He hears everyone chattering about your phone being stolen, lays down the law (literally) to all of the people on the bus, and suddenly some other random guy is all to eager to pull your phone out from his pocket and say that he found it on the floor. Mhmmmm. 

So the moral of the story is this: All you have to do to get a stolen iPhone back is be really angry and sassy to the theif, and some nice policeman will hear you and help you out. 

But in all seriousness, lesson learned. 

So yeah, that's my life at the moment. I miss a lot of people at home and the language barrier is very hard especially during meals with my family, but I'm doing okay. I have my moments when I can't believe that I've thrown myself into yet another unknown situation, but then I go and play soccer or monopoly with my host brother and laugh at his many attempts at cheating and everything's okay again. 

Based on all of the crazy stories that I have to tell after only 6 days, this is going to be an incredible 4 months. 

Hasta luego,
Hannah