Fiestas, Large and Small

4 March, 2010: Kirsten

It has been a month of slow discoveries. Watching traditional festivities and dances, developing relationships and as a result understanding a bit more of the culture here and there, trying to adapt to a different sense of time. There have been moments of deeper awareness of the cultural differences and language barriers as well as moments of pure joy at the sense of new mutual friendships.

We still have not left Chivay. Actually, I should revamp that: we have left Chivay to visit a few other small towns in the area, but still have not made it to the tourist locales on the opposite end of the canyon. We finally, last weekend, made it to the hot springs in Chivay (the major tourist stop here), which was most definitely worth it. Of course we did do it "our" way—we walked there one Friday afternoon and found the place to be full of tourists, so we decided to go back by collectivo the next morning. We saw only two other tourist couples, but many more locals. And we had an entire pool to ourselves. Steve's conclusion: "I could do this again."

We have been spending many rainy afternoons over cafécita con leche and chocolate caliente at Carlito's Restaurant, designing a menu for the restaurant, taking photos of various prepared dishes, and getting to know Carlos, Ingrid, Carmen, Danny and Lusero (now talking in her own language and very interested in seeing the world around her). The times with Carlos and Ingrid have been the backbone of our month. Waiting for events they say will soon happen has taken a good part of those times.

We have come to understand that along with anything good in Peru comes the necessity for a bit of patience: the dancing, the fiestas, plans, and everyday life. We were invited by Carmen the first week in February to go with her to Uscallakta, an ancient Incan pueblo now in ruins. We got there three weeks later. Mid-month when the festival of Solteros and Solteras began and folks started striking blows at the first tree, we stood there for two hours (starting two hours after they began) before the tree finally fell. Many an invitation from Carlos and Ingrid has been delayed by two hours to two weeks. And so we have spent the interim reading, watching, drinking cafécita and chocolate, and waiting. The people here are imbued with an incredible amount of patience. Dance steps are simple and go for hours. Plans happen when they happen. If they don't happen when you think they will, too bad. Better have a back-up plan. Or a warm place to stay and wait (preferably with said beverages).

Steve is talking about the larger festivals in the area: let me talk a bit about our own, smaller fiestas.

On February 12^th we celebrated our 3^rd wedding anniversary (the date we actually got married and then took our cat's pee to the vet, not the date we had a party). We thought it would be a quiet day, celebrated by baking macaroons with Ingrid. But two of Carlos' friends from Cuzco were in town; folks who bring the party with them wherever they go. Mateo, from England, who opens his mouth and fills the room with sound—usually boisterous laughter, along with whatever he might be saying. And Laura, of Peru, who turns out to be a tour guide who worked in the main Archeological Museum in Lima.

By 5:30 Ingrid and I were finally in the kitchen, with Laura, concocting macaroons. Only there isn't an oven in the kitchen of the restaurant. Instead, most of the folks in Chivay go to one of the handful of ovens that bake loads of bread everyday. The ovens are fueled by a peat-like material from the hills, and are working I don't know how many hours per day…possibly 24. So in the pouring rain, the two of us headed out in a moto-taxi (a small motorcycle with built-in cart in back to hold people, all covered with a plastic roof). These things have no windshield wipers, so I have no idea how the driver could tell where we were going, but we got there. And, 15 or so minutes later, we left, with perfect, lightly-browned coconut delights.

The night continued with dipping the buggers in chocolate, then dancing lessons from Laura and Mateo, some dinner, and all 7 of us gobbling up the entire batch of macaroons.

We had been invited, in a round-about sort of way, to join Danny in traveling to his home-town of Ichumpampa for another festival of the harvest two days later. At 7:30 am sharp, Danny was outside our Hostel waiting. We all jumped into a collective for Yanque, as there were no collectivos running to Ichumpampa that day. Once in Yanque, it was another hour on foot to Ichupampa. Another thing to mention about the folks here: hardly anyone has a car, taxis are too expensive for longer trips, and collectivos only run to certain places and not everyday. So most folks are used to walking, often up and down mountainsides, often with heavy bundles on their backs, and often for miles. It's just the way life is here, in particular involving the numerous terraced charkas, or small individual farm plots. The only way to get there is to walk.

By the time we've arrived in Ichupampa, we have realized that the festival we're about to take part in is not a public one. We're invited into Danny's home, we're given two chairs of honor to sit in, and chicha (a corn drink that is also fermented into a beer) to try. We meet his father, mother, sisters, a brother-in-law, and nephews and nieces as we wait for folks to get ready to go to the chakra. The festival this day is about celebrating the harvest to come. It's a day to go to the chakra, harvest a few potatoes and ears of corn, and cook them at the chakra—a kind of picnic.

When the time comes, we head out with a pack of 3 adults, two children and 3 donkeys. Danny's parents have remained at the house to prep food and drink chichi. It's another 30-40 minutes' walk to the farm, slow-going with the donkeys. Once there it's a lovely day for a picnic. We help harvest a few potato plants and some choclo, or corn. Kindling is gathered from the dead stalks of wildflowers. While the food cooks, we all take part in gathering cherries from a tree nearby. Steve is particularly helpful given his reach! It's a lazy afternoon, and by the time the food is ready we're quite ready to eat it…simply boiled potatoes and corn with cheese. But delicious! As the thunder clouds start rolling in, we head back to the house just in time.

…And at the house another feast awaits. We are this time ushered into a room with two chairs and a table, and wait to see what happens. Two plates of food arrive: a very stew of potatoes, carrots, and other veggies with rice. A beautiful meal. Only we're the only ones in the room. Do we start? Is anyone going to join us? Not sure, after several minutes we figure we're just supposed to eat, so we do. Then Danny's father comes to join us, without food, and we proceed to have a great conversation (of broken-Spanish and slightly compromised understanding) about farming in the area. I'm completely absorbed. Chicha (beer this time) arrives and the conversation continues. And before we're finished, Danny comes in to say there's a collective waiting outside for us. With hurried but overwhelming thanks, we rush out…only to have the collective break down just down the road. Still, we don't return to the house, just wait for another collective to come by. It has been an exhausting and surprisingly beautiful day. Not at all what we thought we were getting into, we left feeling so honored to have been welcomed into it.

Photos:

1. La Danza Wititi

2. Roasting coffee beans with Carlos

3. More coffee beans, well-roasted

4. On the way to Ichupampa