Last night Andrew and I went to an interesting restaurant/bar, after we'd already stuffed our faces full at a different restaurant for about $3 apiece. The interesting bar was called "Macondo", after the name of the town from Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. It was decorated to evoke the spirit of the book and was a delight.
At any rate, having already eaten, we were of a mind to have a drink and settled on wine, the thinking being that we didn't want to mess with liquor our first night in the high elevation. We ordered a Peruvian wine, Tacama Gran Tinto, but when the waiter came back he was holding a Concha y Toro, a Chilean wine that I've had before.
"That's from Chile; the wine we ordered is from Peru."
"This is from Peru." (The bottle says Chile, which Andrew pointed out to him.)
He sheepishly came back moments later with the correct bottle of wine. He didn't get a very good tip.
There are hasslers everywhere here, the most fierce of whom are the pretty local girls the various restaurants employ to herd us in. None of them accept "no", or its variants in any language. We have found the best method is to speak gibberish and continue walking without making eye contact.
I'm not officially a soldier anymore as of today. (Sorta, I'm on the lists for recall if need be, but I'm not getting a paycheck anymore.) Time to dive into the coca leaf tea.
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The Showers of Damocles? At all the hostels we've stayed at so far, I have to hit the breaker switch next to the shower once I've turned on the water. The breaker then runs electricity through covered wires to the showerhead, which heats the water to a point above freezing but below bearable. The copper wiring is exposed as it connects to the showerhead. Showers thus far have been short and prefaced, taken, and concluded with prayers.
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This morning it seemed time for a break. Andrew and I are getting along fine but I require solitude sporadically. I wandered around the city, walking a part of the Avenida del Sol before heading up. I continue to be winded by the altitude, but I made my way up the cobblestone streets until I'd passed all the ghetto homes and came to the tree line. I looked out on the city. Terracotta- tiled roofs, more orange than red, splayed out before me. I easily made out the various churches and plazas that I'd been walking among. I continued to climb to the ridgeline and then walked along it, past shepherds and sheep to the large statue of Jesus, arms spread wide, who keeps watch on the city.
The plan was to read there, but even six hundred feet above the city there were peddlers. One came over to talk to me. I made the mistake of being cordial. He knew just enough English to confuse me by switching between that and his native tongue. He gave an impromptu history lession. He carried a map, so I knew that he was just trying to show his worth as a guide. Without being rude, I tried to make it apparent that I just wanted to be left alone.
I should have been rude. Eventually, I gave up and made my way over to another peak, where there's a twenty foot cross. He began to follow, but finally accepted that he wasn't going to get my business. Nonetheless it was obvious he wanted money for bombarding me with unasked for, partially understood, and barely believed information. I gave him a 5 soles coin ($1.50) and he scoffed.
I left him and got to the other hilltop where I could finally enjoy my peace. Up there I heard the din of cars (mostly taxis and, if not taxis, then old VW Beetles...they\'re everywhere in Peru and Equador) scooting through the streets, a vendor with a bullhorn somewhere in the maze below, and the joyful yells of children at play.
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Andrew and I are off in a few minutes to the travel agency, where we will meet our guide and our fellow travellers. We head out at 5am tomorrow for our five days (four nights) on the trail that will take us to Macchu Picchu in time for sunrise on the morning of the 21st, the solstice. We are not taking the standard Inca Trail, since that is loaded with tourists, but are taking a bit longer route that is marked more by natural scenery than by ruins. At any rate, it is the centerpiece of the trip, and the part that we have most looked forward to. This of course means that y'all will be spared these blasted emails for some days, though I wouldn't be surprised if some hermit's hut had an internet cafe in a corner.
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