Medical Volunteers for Peru: Arriving in Cusco

foothills of the Andes. photo by JG

After two nights and a day of travel with a layover adventure in El Salvador, we have finally arrived in Cusco! Views from the plane we took from Lima to Cusco made me ache with familiarity. Even the foothills of the Andes would be considered high mountains by other standards and we were dazzled by the sudden appearances of massive snow-laden peaks between tufts of cloud layer. From the airport I called the hotel where we will be staying and the driver who came to pick us up welcomed us with typical Peruvian warmth and humor. He managed to manipulate all of our luggage into his small vehicle (a Peruvian talent: cram an astounding amount of younameit--items for market, baggage, passengers, etc.---into a small space . . . "si se puede!"). Over the course of our journey here we certainly enjoyed a healthy batch of laughs at the awkward bumbling imposed by the quantity and size of our luggage. We each carried two 50lb bags of medicines and donations along with our personal carry-ons. Add to that the frequent shuffling of passports and documents--tickets, boarding stubs, immigration passes, customs forms, reservation confirmations, the official letter from the archbishop of Cusco explaining who we are and why we are carrying loads of drugs into the country--and you have a recipe for hilarity. We had great fun laughing at each other and joking: "I needed this bag for my shoes, and like OMG! I simply could NOT travel without all my makeup" . . . except for the telltale sound like a rainstick each time the bags were lifted and pills/vitamins shifted in their containers. We must have looked like a group of gringa camelloids. In any case, our driver managed to deftly and somewhat miraculously stuff our 6 large suitcases of donations along with our smaller personal backpacks and the three of us into his vehicle and deliver us smoothly to the place we will call home for the next week: the Piccola Locanda Hotel. I was surprised and delighted to discover that this hotel is barely ten steps away from the place I always stayed here in my previous visits, on Calle Resbalosa! Our host at the Piccola Locanda welcomed us kindly with a cup of mate de coca (tea made with whole coca leaves) and explained that this hotel has been the home of his family for some time. Each room is named for a relative. Soon we were settled into a triple called "Matteo."

rooftop terrace of the Piccolo Locanda. photo by JG

As we explored the streets and lanes of Cusco I was flooded with familiar sights, smells and sounds. Though it has been 8 years already since I was here last it seems that not much has changed and I still comfortably know my way around. The stimulation of all the senses and the unique scenes of this place welcome me back as if it was only a month ago that I was here last. Commingled smells both please and astonish as one walks down the street . . .

One may catch the savory aroma of lomo saltado or sopa de quinoa (this is where that ancient grain originated) or the roasting chicharronnes (meat snacks) of a street vendor only to be surprised a few steps away by the smell of fresh dog poop, the stench of rotting garbage or stale urine. The diesel smoke and pollution of passing vehicles is relieved by the freshness and chill of the crisp high altitude air (Cusco lies at about 11,000 ft). The intense smell of powerful detergents when passing a lavanderia are contrasted with the smell of woodsmoke which here in Peru has a very distinct, almost incense-like aroma because the common fuel is eucalyptus wood. I even remember the smell of the countryfolk here from countless times of being jostled together on buses, in public spaces, crowded marketplaces or local celebrations . . . a mixture of sweet smokiness, stale sweat, grease and wool.

In Cusco there is always a hum of sound regardless of the time of day or night . . .

Cusco. photo by JG

Bells in the cathedrals mark the passing of the hours; the incessant "beep beep" of taxis and combis is interspersed with the sharp whistle-blasts of the uniformed policemen/women who stand on street corners to direct the flow of traffic; the slap of pidgeons' wings moving to rest on the stone ledge of a cathedral; the soft intimate laughter of young lovers who nuzzle in the plaza; the insistent greetings of persistent street hawkers selling everything from postcards and hand-painted images of Machu Picchu to jewelry and woven textiles; loud firecrackers exploding at random intervals and for unidentified reasons; and always the sound of music . . . the sweet notes of flutes or the cheerful melodies of Andean folk music gently drifting above the red-clay tile rooftops.

mamita in San Blas neighborhood, Cusco. photo by JG

the traditional and the modern in Cusco. photo by

Stray dogs of endless variety and surprising combination wander the streets, meet in packs of three and four or sun themselves on doorsills. They appear to have their own complex social system independent of the human inhabitants of Cusco. Students, professionals, and modernized Peruvian youth with cell phones walk the streets of the city passing the poorer folk who sell snacks at street corners or carry massive loads to market. Simple farmers and countryfolk from surrounding rural areas or from the highlands can also be seen in Cusco. These tend to be those with more native Indian blood, those who still wear their traditional clothing, those who still speak Quechua. The men wear simple pants and sweaters and carry themselves with reserve and humility.

mamitas in typical fashion. photo by JG

The women wear several layers of skirts topped by a thicker outermost skirt of wool that collectively bunch around their waists giving them the appearance of more girth than they really have. Their legs are often sheathed in woolen stockings and their sweaters are invariably a bright and colorful contrast to the black of their woollen skirt. Their hair is always woven into braids: long black ropes that fall down their backs. I am told that if the braids are tied together at the base the woman is married. And of course the most classic piece of every traditional/folk Peruvian woman´s getup is the ever present bowler hat. These can vary in style from classic fedora to small rounded felt hats with a band of ribbon, to hardened white ones that I am told are more common here in the Cusco area. I have heard various accounts of why the native peoples of Bolivia and Peru wear these hats; the one I heard today told of a misdirected shipment of fedora hats in the 1930s which was mistakenly sent to some remote village in Bolivia rather than to its intended destination for upper-class gentleman consumers living in the city. The people of the village took a liking to the hats and the style spread like wildfire across the highlands of Bolivia and Peru. I am not sure whether or not this story is true, and why traditionally only the women wear these hats and not the men is still a mystery to me.

Cathedrals on the Plaza de Armas, Cusco. photo by JG

We meandered through Cusco's central Plaza de Armas and along side streets and alleys through the rest of the afternoon. This city has such a rich and palpable history, a history that is evident in everything from its architecture and street names to the faces of its inhabitants. "Cusco" is the Spanish mispronunciation of the Quechua word "Q'osqo" which in the language of the Inka means "heart."

This city was the political, economic and spiritual epicenter of the Inka Empire. It was not only the

very heart of their world but also considered to be the "navel" of the whole earth. Here once stood the Temple of the Sun (Inti) and the golden palace of the Inka king (who was revered as both man and

god). When the Spanish conquistadors arrived (led by Francisco Pizarro) they succeeded in vanquishing the mighty Inka empire with the use of firearms and the intentional dispersal of smallpox-infected blankets (early biological warfare) which obliterated 90% of the population.

Colonial Cusco. photo by JG

Spanish colonial architecture on top of Inka foundation. JG

The Spanish conquest promptly changed the face of this region. The native Inka became indentured laborers, forced to dismantle their own palaces and temples and use the stones thereof to build massive Spanish colonial cathedrals directly on top of their previously important and sacred structures. The gold that coats the altars of these cathedrals came from the Inka Temple of the Sun. In fact the Inka believed that gold was the blood of the sun itself . . . certainly a very different reason to worship gold than that of the Spanish. The enslaved people were commanded to melt their own gold and convert it into Spanish wealth; to build a new city atop their own; to feed, clothe and bear the mestizo children of the Spanish. The conquest could be seen as complete . . . and yet the strong heritage of the native indigenous people, the persistence of their language and customs (particularly in the rural highlands) are still notable and present . . .

The street names in Cusco are still in Quechua and many continue to speak the language of the Inka (though one young man told us today that the younger generations who no longer speak original Quechua are said to speak "spaghechua"). The faces and traditions, the colorful clothing, customs and rich spirit of these people linger not as the fading memory of a tragic past but as the strong and ever-present foundation of this region. Just as one can walk down the streets of Cusco and clearly see the Inka stonemasonry at the base of buildings with the white plastered walls of Spanish colonialism resting atop, so too can one witness the many cultural layers that persist through this history.