Memorial Day Weekend
SUMMARY:Had a great Memorial Day weekend, starting with sleeping in on Saturday and heading to Wong--much more than just a grocery store. Followed Wong with a trip to the Rodeo, followed by a barbeque at the intern house, followed by a night out on the town (although we missed the Marines by a hair). Went to bed at 3:30 and got up at 5:00 to head to Ica for an overnight trip full of sandboarding and winery tours. Some reflections on my new political status in light of the upcoming presidential elections and a thank you for my first two pieces of snail mail that arrived at the Embassy and are hanging in my cubicle to make it look a little more homey!
FOR DETAIL LOVERS, ONLY:
Happy Memorial Day! Hope you all had a great holiday, celebrating in whatever way you could, whether in America or abroad. Since the Embassy celebrates both American and Peruvian holidays, we had a three day weekend, and we interns decided to live it up as much as possible! Unfortunately, three days just isn't enough time to go on a major trip, say to Brazil or Argentina, or even to Cuzco. Especially when you don't even begin the planning process until Wednesday, the logistics are a bit iffy. That didn't stop us from getting out of Lima, though.
Other than a barbeque being planned by Jared at our house and a possible rodeo suggested by Angie (one of the summer hires), I didn't really have any big plans for the weekend. I figured I might do some sight-seeing in Lima and hit up the indian market (apparently a great place for bartering and inexpensive souvenirs). That all changed with the arrival of Max and Brianna, two new interns in the FCS (something about communications for local branches of American companies) department! They were determined to make the most out of one of our rare long weekends. As soon as I heard them talking about going somewhere, I jumped on the bandwagon.
After lots of online research and plenty of input from coworkers in each of our departments, we compiled our information and decided that Ica sounded like the place to go. We didn't want to let the others down, either, thought, so we decided not to leave until Sunday morning.
Saturday morning was glorious, as I started it off by sleeping in, followed by a trip to Wong: my favorite grocery store. I am convinced that there's no grocery shopping experience quite like the one you get at Wong. As you walk in the entrance, you're immediately swept into a zone of boundless energy. You may be greeted at the door by a keyboard-playing spokesperson for a music company or a girl dressed all in yellow, highlighting the rack of 3M hooks nearby. Or perhaps you'll merely be escorted by the shopping cart attendant, eager to guide you and your cart into the buzzing frenzy of shoppers navigating their way through the aisles as if they're on the streets of Lima.
Maybe they think they are on the streets of Lima. I certainly feel like I am as I swerve past the shampoos and suddenly back up to nab an open shopping cart "parking space" for a quick stop at the mini-bodega (winery) in the back of the store. I select an unfamiliar bottle of Peruvian wine, and am on my way back to the cart when I am offered a sample of "Pisco Puro" mixed with ginger ale. I take a sip and pick up a bottle to complement the wine. I avoid the Absolut sampling and the wine tastings and head toward the cleaning products, not wanting to over-do it on a Saturday morning at the grocery store. I make my way toward the frozen section, eager to see what's on the menu today. I'm the ideal target for this kind of marketing, and the feeling is mutual. The entire store is full of people sent by their companies to draw in customers by tasting their products. Unlike America, where the three or four sample carts tend to come out only on Fridays and Saturdays, on any given day you can eat (and drink) your way through Wong. I gladly accept a cup of Fanta, but deem it too traditional a product to actually purchase. I'd choose Inca Kola over Fanta any day! Mmm, but those tamales are another story. When the woman, dressed in her white dress and red polka-dotted apron explains that all I have to do is pop them in the microwave for a couple minutes, I snatch up a pack of four. No more Ramen noodles for this starving chef . . . I left those in Winona! Okay, back to reality, leaving Wong for another day. Sigh.
After checking out and getting my weekly workout on the walk back home (I inevitably buy too much to carry comfortably, but it's good for my arms), Jared and I got ready for the rodeo! Angie's mom was driving us, and arrived just as I finished putting the frozen items away. We hopped in the car and headed off, stopping at the El Polo mall to pick up some of Angie's new friends from the gym that she goes to. Turns out these friends had made some other friends the night before . . . two European world travelers that happened to be passing through Peru! It took me a while to get the details, but after learning that they didn't speak Spanish, my interest was piqued. They clearly weren't American, so I asked where they were from. Turns out one of them is from Germany and the other is from France, but somehow Luxembourg got tied in there, too, and these guys met while working together at the Xerox headquarters in Dublin! I think. It was complicated. In any case, they had worked for a couple years, but then decided to quit their jobs and see the world, with the help of a friend who works for American Airlines and gets them cheap plane tickets. They've journeyed Route 66 in America, been all over Europe, have seen parts of Asia, and are getting through as much of South America as possible before heading off to Australia. They don't really have a solid plan, they just go when and where the wind blows and the planes travel. My kind of guys!
Nico (the French guy . . . and yes he has a bit of an accent, oohlala) and I were engrossed in the pictures on our digital cameras, when all of a sudden I looked up and realized that the city of Lima had disappeared and been replaced by the Pacific coastline, complete with beaches! I asked where we were, but couldn't make out the reply. No matter, about five minutes later we were on a dirt road, coasting by a couple alpacas and the ruins of a castle built for some lover of some king or something. I just took it all in. We pulled up in front of a tall brick wall, and after paying the guard at the gate, we were in . . . rodeo here we come, yeehaw!!
I wasn't sure what it would be like, but I sure didn't expect the atmosphere to feel so familiar. It felt just like this motorcycle bar in western Wisconsin that we sometimes go to when staying at our friends' cabin. You go there and there are all these guys riding in on their Harley's, wearing their leather chaps and drinking beer as they wait for the ever famous chicken to be served. This chicken is so tender it practically slides off the bone, and there's so much food you crave a hammock, so you can lay down and focus on digesting later in the day. That's sort of how this was, except that there were no Harleys, and they were cooking beef instead of chicken, and there was live entertainment following the meal. No hammocks. In any case, it felt like a summer festival.
The actual rodeo didn't get started until about three or four hours after we were done eating, and it was probably the least entertaining part! The whole thing got started with the introduction of the "vacaros" (cowboys). There were 16 of them split into four teams of four. The first activity involved each of them racing to a log placed in the middle of the arena, donning construction helmets and work gloves, and wielding a chainsaw with enough expertise to slice off the end of the log faster than any of the other teams. This was followed by an amateur rodeo for kids age 10 and under. They came out into the middle of the ring and climbed onto the back of a sheep, who was not at all interested in pretending to be a bull! One by one the kids fell off the sheep as it tried to escape the arena, making for a very entertaining show. The sheep was fine if a bit perturbed. There was also a couple's dance-off with young bulls racing around and between the dancers (the vacaros herded them so that the couples weren't in danger of anything more than a mild thrill when a bull passed a little too close for comfort). Other highlights ensued, including when the bulls rebelled during the lasso challenge and jumped over one of the walls! Only one actually escaped, and the entertainment was paused while they focused on getting him back in the corral. Suddenly the lasso was being used for real!
All in all, it was a great time, enhanced by the international flavor of our group. I spent about a half an hour engrossed in conversation with a man from Colombia (a fellow gym member and friend of Angie's mom), talking about the situation there with the drug cartel, guerrilla warfare, and tremendous gap between the upper and lower classes, as well as the beauty of that country and the improvements that have been made in the last five years. This was a turning point in my Peruvian experience, thus far. Up until then, I had been somewhat shy about speaking in Spanish, especially since so much of my time is spent in the Embassy, where most people speak both languages. I knew I had to change this, if I wanted to get my Spanish back up to where it was when I returned from Spain two years ago, but it wasn't until I talked with the Colombian that my confidence was restored, and my tongue remembered how to pronounce the words without stammering every time it had to roll an rrrrrrr or congugate a verb. Suddenly I regained my confidence, and I was all smiles as moved in time with Carlos Vives songs on our way home. I couldn't help marveling at the fact that I was riding down the Panamericana with a Colombian, an Ecuadorian (Angie's mom), a fellow American, a guy from Germany and one from France, and finally a couple Peruvians. Some spoke all Spanish, some spoke all English, some spoke both, and some could probably throw in a bit of Quechua, German, Gaelic, French, or otherwise if they so desired!
We invited everybody over to our house for the cookout we'd been planning on having, but it turned out that most people had other plans for the night, so Angie, Jared and I said goodnight to everybody else and got dropped off at our place. We started grilling up some hot dogs and hamburgers for ourselves as we tried to get ahold of the other interns, but since the rodeo had gone long everybody else had already eaten. We decided we'd meet up a little bit later: it was time to see what a night out in Lima was like! Unfortunately, our communication has been subpar lately, due to the fact that the phone service in the intern house has been restricted! Turns out somebody forgot to pay the bill or something, so we can't make outgoing phone calls, although we can receive incoming ones. This made coordinating with others more challenging since we had to either wait around for them to call us or walk down the street to the payphone at a nearby store. In the end, it was just Angie and Jared and I that went out together. It seems every time we went someplace with the hope of running into each other, we just missed them! Maybe we'll have better luck this weekend. We're supposed to go out on Friday night, and I'm thinking we'll probably have a set time and destination to meet up.
We went down to Miraflores, home of Lima nightlife and chilled out at a lounge until a little after 2:00. The original club we were planning on going to, based on a call from the Marines, was over-crowded and nearly impossible to get into. It's called Aura, and is apparently the hottest place in town right now. We still got a bit of dancing in at the lounge, and were glad that we hadn't wasted our time waiting around to get into Aura when we found out that it was 40 soles to get in at 2:30! In all reality, that's not completely unreasonable since it's the equivalent of about $12, which is standard club fare in major U.S. cities. But we figured our money would be better spent if we came out a different weekend and got in earlier with a bigger group of people. We went home and went to bed. Turns out the Marines had reached the same conclusion, and had found somewhere else to spend their night, rather than try to get into Aura until they had to head home for their 3:00 a.m. curfew.
After an hour and a half of sleep, I dragged myself out of bed to pack up and get ready for weekend activity number two: Ica. When I knocked on Jared's door, he chose sleep over travel, so I hailed a cab and headed off to the bus station to meet Brianna and Max without him. It was probably better that way, since our trip was very much of a "let's go to Ica and see what it's all about without any prior plans" type of trip. Jared likes to be more organized in his travels, and we probably would have driven him crazy with our approach to Ica. Not that we were completely spontaneous. Max and Brianna had taken care of the bus and hotel ahead of time, and we had some ideas about what we wanted to do.
About 3.5 hours south of Lima, Ica is the home of sandboarding, a sport my fellow adventurers and I were eager to try. Having snowboarded a couple of times in the last couple years, I figured my northern snow expertise would be well-challenged on the dunes of Peru. And when I say dunes, I'm not talking about the ones back home . . . not even the famous Indiana dunes that have achieved State Park status. These Peruvian mountains of sand rival the bluffs of the Mississippi river in height and make one think that the bus took a wrong turn and wound up in the Sahara!
As soon as we got off the bus, we were snatched up by Armando, our taxi driver for the day. I'm sure he was thinking he'd have a great day of driving if he could get these money-heavy gringos before anyone else, and he was right! We were prime targets, tourists without agenda looking for a little direction. Armando was just the guy to give us that direction. As he drove us to our hotel, a charming complex centered around a foliage-lined courtyard featuring an outdoor pool and restaurant, Armando pulled out brochure after brochure for various activities that we could enjoyduring our overnight in Ica. He seemed particularly bent on showing us the bodegas, for which Ica is especially famous, and when we told him that we were interested in sandboarding, he had just the solution! It was only about 11:00 a.m., so he dropped us off at the hotel for an hour, drove off to make our sandboarding appointment for 4:00, and promised to return at 12:00 to take us to the bodegas. When he told us that the bodegas were free, and there would be a place to buy lunch, we were sold!
We went in and relaxed next to the pool for a little bit, commenting on how nice and sunny the desert air was, and wondering why we couldn't have the same kind of weather in Lima (it's often foggy here during the "winter", due to the cold air of the ocean clashing with the warmer coastal air). We decided it was for the better, since we're cooped up inside most of the week and wouldn't be able to enjoy such nice weather anyway.
But the weather in Ica was perfect! The sun was shining as we learned about the variety of wines and Piscos unique to this region, enjoying the samples at the end and purchasing souvenirs. The first bodega, Tacama, was more wine-focused, while the second was primarily Pisco. Both were very interesting, though. The second one was especially fun because of the other family on our tour! Anika had brought her 11-year old son and his friend (same age) to Ica for the weekend, and they were just as inquisitive and energetic as 11-year olds should be. Juaquin, a champion wrestler must be a handful for his mom, based on his climbing abilities (trees, grape press, you name it) and the questions he asked! Juan Diego was more stoic that his peer and lived up to the "caballero" (gentleman) quality of his name. Both were eager to try the Pisco at the end, though! Thankfully Anika only allowed them to taste the less potent samples.
After the bodegas, we dropped off our purchases at the hotel before Armando whisked us off to our dune buggy! We climbed in, donned our helmets, and away we rode! Pretty soon our oasis had been shielded by the dunes and we had become true desert dwellers; for about an hour and a half. Our guide took us up and down, provoking girly shrieks from the . . . well . . . girls in the back of the buggy. Max remained more composed, but I bet he was shrieking within.
We stopped near the top of one dune for a photo opportunity, and Brianna and I revelled in our ability to make sand angels, thereby inaugurating the first official Desert Sand Angel Club, a sister club to the official Bikini Snow Angel Club that was started by yours truly almost two years ago at the top of a miniature Swiss Alp. New members are always welcome, please leave a comment if interested. :)
From there we were taken to our sandboarding dune. To my surprise, sandboarding was easier than snowboarding. This is probably due to the lack of winter clothing, the increased friction between board and surface (making it easier to control), and my own natural sandboarding expertise. Riiiiiiight. We actually only got to go down the hill a couple of times on our feet, since our guide made us get a feel for it by sitting down first. So I guess you could say I sand-sledded, too. That was actually more fun than sandboarding when Brianna and I teamed up and double-sledded! With both of our weight combined, we flew down those dunes, and had a pretty artistic wipe-out at the end of the first try!
By the end of the day, we were wiped out ourselves! We said goodnight to Armando and headed back to the hotel to relax over some local wine and tequeños (cheese-filled tortillas dipped in guacamole) so that we'd be all ready to go the next morning. We decided to check out Huacachina, the neighboring oasis that we'd read about in our guide book. When we got there, it was just as an oasis should be: A little pond surrounded by palm trees plunked in a valley of sand. A little town has grown up around it, and there was something in the book about a 200-year old hacienda. But from what we could see, there wasn't a whole lot to do. At least not that we were willing to spend money on that day. More sandboarding seemed to be about it, and we decided that as fun as that sounded, we were not up for trekking up the colossal dunes just to slide down again. We decided that we'd be better able to appreciate Huacachina the next time around. We still have to see the famous Nazca lines (mysterious sand etchings attributed to ancient cultures of Peru), so we'll be returning to the region in the future.
We returned to Ica in a very sketchy, and exciting, three-wheel scooter with a shell (that's about the best way to describe it). We'd seen, and heard, plenty of these things roaming the streets of Peru, but never thought we'd actually be in one! Let alone fitting three people (and Max is tall!) with their bags, albeit small ones. Nevertheless, it was the only thing heading out of Huacachina, and at three soles (less than a dollar) for the five-minute ride, it definitely wasn't a bad deal. We hopped on the bus and began the 3.5-hour trek back to Lima.
Ahh, another Peruvian story come to an end. Sorry for dragging it out so long, but I figure those of you that want to skim through it can, and as for the rest of you, details are what make the story what it is! Besides, I had a lot of time to kill at work today. My computer's Microsoft programs are acting up, making it difficult to work on my Access project. They're getting it fixed, but I was glad to have some extra time this afternoon to catch up on my communication from home after the three day weekend.
Tomorrow I'll be out of the office all day, getting trained for election observing this Sunday. They sent out an email asking for volunteers, and I thought this would be a great opportunity to learn more about the culture and politics of this country. It's an interesting time to be here, as there's a lot of tension and uncertainty regarding the two candidates running for office. Alan Garcia, a the more democratic of the two, is more in line with the U.S., which may or may not be a good thing. Ollanta Humala, on the other hand is an ex-military socialist that heavily appeals to the poor of the nation (of which there are many) and asserts that he will put an end to the corruptive politics that have plagued the country for decades.
It's hard to say who is the better (or worse) candidate. As we were driving to Ica, the road passed several poor towns, and it was not uncommon to see Umala's name grafitied on the crumbling walls of buildings. The same is true for Lima, except that Garcia is the more popular choice. But despite the active voices for one candidate or another, the vote is still very uncertain. I hope to learn a lot from personally observing the process, although I'm very uncertain as to what that will entail. In any case, I can't help thinking of the upset that occured after the Madrid bombings while I was in Spain two years ago followed by the Bush/Kerry election just a few months later. Seems that politics are everywhere I go, and by jove, I think that my little Liberal-Arts-turned-Business brain is being reoriented yet again. This girl's going political!
But not before she gets dinner. You guessed it, it's the end of another day, and the (real) end of another blog. Hope you're all enjoying the nice summer weather I hear tell of in the northern hemisphere. Continue to keep in touch, I love to hear from you! And to the newest Costa Rican girls of Deltasig and Anna, thank you for my first two pieces of snail mail! They arrived at the Embassy today and are hanging on my cubicle wall. Suddenly I've got a little ownership in this cubby hole of mine. Printer-people may come and go, but I'm here to stay (until July, that is)!
Have a great day, all. Ciao!
posted by Jessica @ 2:15 PM
4 Comments:
Sandboarding Scumbies? That's kickin'! I've got to try that when I come out to visit. Muhahahahaha! I hope you are having fun, make lots of friends and such. Networking is what it's all about. Especially if they have links to cheap airline tickets!!! *wink* Later days.
cuz,
it's 22-1 i think that if you can't find a job when u come back stateside you should just write a book. I'd buy it.
peace,
me
Hola, senorita! Sounds like a typical Jessie Wessie weekend, full of adventure and daring! But what I want to know is this. . .have you sampled guinea pig yet? Does it taste like chicken? Love, mom
Oh, and I am reigning champ at Wackamole again (at the parish festival - have six stuffed animals and one more day to go!)
What a great site, how do you build such a cool site, its excellent.
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