Clinica de San Juan, 2010

Not much to add this week. No trips since Lake Titicaca. That changes dramatically upcoming and final two weeks with Canyon de Colca and Machu Pichu. But, just in case anyone wonders if I am lost, needed to add a few comments.

So, other than study and travel, myh time has been partly devoted to volunteer work at a Children´s Clinic. Wonderful children, beautiful children, sad situations. In personal respect for their condition, I do not post photos of them. But, I will post photos of others not in the same circumstances.

“My children” have been abandoned by their family. Ages 3 to 15 they possess varying degrees of discapacidades (disabilities). Of the 40 to 50 in the section to which I provide time, only two small ones can walk without assistance. Most need sillas de ruedas (chairs with wheels). Possibly half cannot talk or express their needs. Many have minimal muscle control and cannot feed themselves.

Yet, despite all, they still shine “como un noche estrellada”, starry night. Several of the little girls have been given appropriate names such as Mira (sight), Luz (light) or my favorite little Quechua, Milagras (Miracles). When they recognize their amigo, the smile that comnes forth appears as the aura around the paintings of the Virgen Mary, found in all the iglesias in Sud America. It changes a dull day into Christmas morning.

I don´t do much. Mainly give attencion, where it is evident there is never going to be enough. That hurts. I also help feed those that need assistance. Almost 30 years since I have done that. Now that is a challenge. One incident really confused me. Lunch followed a day of excitement as the children received new shoes. You could feel their energy. Later, I was feeding a little pal Rodrigo. At first things went well, but then he began to cry, progressively louder, unceasing. I had no idea. Finally the director sensed the cause and removed his new shoes, yes, too tight. But, Rodrigo is one that cannot talk.

One more week with my little friends. I will miss them. I will wonder about their situation, their care, their future, and others that will follow. I will wonder if the runaway parents pause, remember, regret. Can it be possible to ever forget? How many others are there in the world? And how can we avoid them?

. . .
Life plays its tricks, some cruel but fair
And only a fool can pretend they don´t care.

When there´s too many memories for one heart to hold
Once a future so bright now seems so distant and cold
And the shadows grow long and your eyes look so old
When there´s too many memories for one heart to hold.

There are those moments and they just never fade
Like the look in (their) eyes and the way the light played
God moved in that moment and the angels all cried
And they gave you a memory that you´ll have till you die.

And there´s too many memories for one heart to hold
Once a future so bright now seems so distant and cold
And the shadows grow long and your eyes look so old
When there´s too many memories for one heart to hold.

S.Bruton

Titicaca, 2010

Well a good feeling this morning (Sunday). The greatest peace and calm I have had since arrival, now marking the half-way point. I have had other moments, but not equal. The weekend travel did not start with such positive inclination. A 10:00 PM bus departure in Friday night rain, with targeted arrival at 5:00 AM Saturday. Since I do not sleep on plane or bus my anticipation was not great. But, arrival was on time and three hours later I was on a tour bus on Lake Titicaca, highest navigable lake in the world, and second largest in S.America. It is over 50 miles wide at some points. The lake besides its immensity is quite clean, and taking a horizon viewpoint, its blueness merges into a mirrowed shade from the sister sky.

The first stop was to the floating islands of Unos. Very interesting. These man-made islands were originally created centuries ago as a means of escaping and avoiding enemies. Constructed from the rooted mats of reeds that grow in the lake. These are cut in the shape of large spongy blocks. Then the reed shoots are layered criss-cross on top creating a mattress far more solid than I anticipated. Until waves are created by other passing tourist boats there is not much sensation of undulation at all. One-room solar powered homes are constructed of reeds as well, light, efficient and lightweight. They can easily be lifted and moved, a requirement as the islands decay about every 15 years and new ones have to be built. The islands themselves are easily anchored or moved. In fact often several islands are towed together to create a soccer field. The place was interesting but a bit like Disneyland with an appearance that all activity, native dress, dance, etc. Was geared to creating a fantasy world for the tourists. Still, these people otherwise have lived in the same style for centuries.

Next stop to Amantani, a natural island, which was to be our one night stay. The group was divided and “fostered” to a Quechuan families. Myself and two dentists from Norway (I was the interpreter) were adopted by a wonderful three member family. Madre Irma, Padre Javiar, hija Nadie. Irma in particular has this smile that immediately brings the sensation of Inca heritage, simple, pure, connected to earth, sky, sun, moon. Neither shy nor assertive, she included us in the meal preparation.

Those on the island are for the most part self-sufficient, and a barter system paired with a communcal sharing of responsibility and productivity from quilted fileds dating to pre-Inca cultivation seems to work. But, the tourism, plus craftwork sales, definitely assists their survival. Still primitive, however, as our kitchen was a dirt floor, with a wood fire filling the cocina with smoke.
Incan history states that the first man arose from these waters of Lake Titicaca. Two temples, to the sun, to the moon, overlook the terraced fields. The overlook from these temples, above these terrazos, with more islands arising from the lake just as that first man, is breathless. Of course, being above 12,000 feet could account for part of that.

We had a fiesta night of folkdance and Andean music. Sleep was welcome afterward. I made up for the bus ride under several layers of aplacan wool blankets. I was as snug as the babies strapped to the backs of Quechuan mothers. I see now why these babies never seem interested in crying for attention. Movement is near impossible.
I awoke to birds and burros braying, among the many tended gardends of the communal village of Colquecachiman. There are ten communal villages on the island, mine one of the smallest. During the night I met my need for el bano (no indoor plumbing), finding no need of headlight as the stars provided all I needed. The display overtook even my Colorado prejudice for clear viewing. What a stressful thought knowing that many have not a clue to what a starry night really is.

After a pancake breakfast, I sadly shook the hand of my father, and kissed the cheeks of mother and daughter and said goodbye. We headed for one last island with pre-Incan connection. As we walked from the boat dock to the town plaza, marveling at the cultivated terraces that climb up the mountain, or fall to the sea below (perspective) I overheard one of the group remarking how this island resembled much of the Greek coast. Guess I put Greece on my list.

This was a fantastic trip and reversal of those initial expectations. Not sure what this next week offers. Perhaps more tranquil for time to rest and cram some studytime. We shall see.

Inca ruins, 2010

Another grand week. So much done, seen. Inca ruins, more processions this Santa Semana, visit to the largest mercado, local food tasting, parcial participation in the apprehension of a thief, as well as participation in an Inca ritual involving burning cocoa leaves, plus amazing scenic memories.

But, will focus on the seven Inca sites visited. Despite many fond memories of American native structures in Chaco Canyon, Mesa Verde and other locations, there is no comparison to the Inca construction. The skill displayed is incomprehensive. Massive stones, sometimes from distant locations, so perfectly quarried, cut, modified, sculpted, placed, that no adhesive is used nor needed. So perfectly fit that a knife blade cannot penetrate between. And not all are squared. Many have multiple sides, one in particular is famous for the twelve sides, each representing some Incan meaning. Yet, as if some great jig saw puzzle found on the tables at the senior center, all fit so neatly both in balance and shape to create massive walls, straight lines, withstanding centuries of earthquake prone tendency, which modern Peru cannot duplicate in strength nor structure. Some are placed not only for structural use, but also representation. See if you can find the duck in flight in the attached photos.

Built for varied purposes, ceremonial and religious ritual, commercial, military outlook and defense, noble or priestly residence. The location of these structures add to the impression. Many located on steep moutainside, layered on terraces climbing up the mountain. How was it done technically, how many people needed?
Many, particularly the ritual sites, have been engineered for water systems, from the numerous cascades in the area, with irrigation canals, fountains and baths for cleansing prior to entry. They still function perfectly without intervention. Simple, functional, beautiful. The sound of splash, the movement of wave within receptor, draws you, tempts you to put your feet under, but the guards watch. Yet, at one time, people gathered, cleansed, the entered for devotion to a variety of designees, almost all related to Pachumama – tierra madre.

Tantomachay, Pukapukara, Q’enqo, Saqsaywaman, Pisac,Ollantaytambo, Temple of the Son. All wonderfully different, impressive. I must say my favorite (Machu Pichu is in May) is Ollantaytambo. Immense coverage of the moutains and valley. The pueblo still occupies and lays over the same stone streets, and many of the walls stand as strong as centuries past. Too narrow for vehicles I can easily walk with the ghosts of the Incas. Hmmmm. I wonder. Would I have been king, noble, sacerdote (priest), artisan, or work in the fields, birds distant, water from the well aside.

We can make it, I know we can.
Only time will tell.
Let’s take a walk down to the water
Let’s go to the well.
Hear that low humming underground
Hear the skylark in the dell
While the world is sleeping
Let’s go to the well.
Sometimes my heart feels like a dandelion
Seeds scattered in a careless wind
Nothing to show for my life and time
But innocent wonder in the face of thunder
Feeling like something is about to begin.