With a side of Marinera

Jennifer, Lori and Isabel waiting a couple hours for the parade to start.

The first time Lori and I saw the Marinera, we thought it must be the dance of the Spanish aristocracy. With fast steps but a stationary torso, the man circles the woman, both in proud posture twirling handkerchiefs. Every move she makes, he corners her and eventually they draw close, handkerchiefs high in the air, chins pointed to the sky.

Actually their are competing theories as to where this dance, which Trujillanos are so proud of, came from. Neither explanation is from the aristocracy. One is actually that slaves observed the way a Peruvian Paso Fino corners a mare and replicated the dance. Indeed many versions of the dance use a man on horseback. These pasos has the same quick feet as those my dad has, but are much stockier, and dare I say, better looking.

The other theory is that the dance dates back to the Incas.

Whatever the case, this elegant dance took over Trujillo last week, with the national competition’s annual trip to town. We took two of the girls here who are especially interested in dance to watch the parade accompanying the competition.

A second-floor parade onlooker.

A horserider in marinera dress.

Group photo shoot time in the dressing room of a swanky boutique at the mall.

King Kong strikes again

There are so many things I find fascinating about this product. For one, it’s called King Kong. What’s not to like about that?

The product itself is interesting, thick globs of manjar blanco — a caramel-like substance made from sweetened condensed milk — slathered between crackers.

Then there’s this description on the box. “World-wide ours it makres ‘Bruning it is born in the year 1983′, it takes the name of recognized arquelogo worl-wide level the german Henry Bruning; la as this located to the noth of the Peruvian coast. in the heart of ours and wanted evocativa, capital city on the King Kong Lambayeque-Peru.”

How exactly was that done. Was there some dude in marketing who was like, “Yeah, I know English. No sweat.” Or did they consult an English to Spanish dictionary and just neglect to spell things right. I’m no marketing genius, but it seems like it would be worth the effort to say, “Hey, before we print thousands of these boxes, why not just let an English speaker give it a quick look over. What d’ya think?”

Lori vs. the youths

I have been going to physical therapy every day this week for a partial tear in my ACL that occurred while hiking in Ecuador with John.  The clinic is in a nice neighborhood facing a beautiful park, which makes for a pretty walk from the bus stop to the clinic.   All was well until Thursday afternoon when I was walking to my appointment and notice a group of 10 or so youths.  They proceeded to call out, “Hello,” mixed with some other inviting things in Spanish, and ended with, “We want to give you a Peruvian welcome.”  I didn’t make eye contact but I gave a nonchalant, “Thanks,”  and kept walking.

Five seconds later a hear a big splat at my feet and felt water splashing on my leg.  THEY HAD THROWN A WATER BALLOON AT ME!  Without thinking it all the way through, I immediately spun around and started walking towards the group of boys like a tiger on the hunt, ready to kill.  Again, without thinking, I threw my arms up in the air like I had seen people  in the movies do who are trying to look tough, and I shouted (in Spanish of course), “Do you think I am afraid of you?”  Much to my delight, the group of boys looked like they were scared to death and took off running from me!  Feeling energized by their retreat, I yelled across the tranquil city park, “You better run!”

Deciding that the threat level had gone down, I turned around and kept going to the clinic.  At about the same time I passed by were they group had been originally, someone yelled at another boy coming out of the house (or so I thought), “Metelo.”  Which I interpreted as, throw another balloon at me, so as I passed the young innocent boy, I said in a real cocky tone, “yeah, metelo,” like, “I dare you to,” and kept walking.  It wasn’t until I later that night that I realized that “metelo” means “shove it.”  So, I essentially told some kid that knew nothing of the previous events to, “shove it.”

Later the same evening, in retelling the story to friends, I found out the we are entering into Carnival time here in Trujillo which essentially means throwing water balloons at whomever you please, whenever you please.   And sure enough, yesterday when I went back to the clinic, I saw the same boys throwing water balloons at some other innocent people on the street, but at least it wasn’t me. —LF

Anyone order some huacas?

There are two pyramids (huacas) about five miles from here that have just started to be excavated since 1991. There are still teams working there every day.
They are about 2000 years old, the center of the Moche civilization, the predecessors to the Chimus who built Chan Chan for those of you who remember that post. The Chimus gave way to the Incas in this part of the country, who of course were defeated by the Spanish. So there’s a point of reference. Pretty stinkin’ old.
The one we toured through was the spiritual center of the civilization. It has one side that’s about 90 meters long by 30 tall, all covered in repeating painted patterns. The paint is still vibrant and detailed after all this time. Incredible.

The other huaca isn’t open to the public, but was the center of government.

About 30,000 people lived in this capital city.

I think it’s so cool that archeologists are still uncovering this stuff. And I thought all the human civilizations of the time since Christ had all been thoroughly archeologized.

The Moche king. Can you believe the color and detail after 2000 years?

Looking out from the Huaca de la Luna over the former city, the Huaca del Sol and in the background, Trujillo. Where we live is about directly to my left from this vantage point. You can see most of the city here. Although it's about the population of Louisville, the whole city would fit easily within the Watterson Expressway.

Decorations from during the reign of a later king than the first picture.

Part of one side of the exterior of the Huaca de la Luna.

There's us.

Happy New Year!

It’s a little known fact that Peru celebrates New Years on Jan. 10 to correspond with the Incan calendar.

No, that’s a lie, just haven’t posted any pictures yet from New Year’s. The tradition here is interesting. They light dummies on fire at midnight, something about leaving your old self behind and starting anew. Some other people eat 12 grapes and run around block with their luggage for good luck. Didn’t see any of that, though.

These dummies were big.

"Fully engaged" as you firefighters might say.

The Shining Path guerillas made an appearance at our party. Thanks guys!

Mannequins

Trujillo, Peru — city of eternal spring, home of Chan Chan, the Moche civilization, the marinara dance and center of the universe for creepy mannequins.

This shirt must be cool if even aliens are wearing it.

No, no need to replace this one.

Why is that woman with unnaturally perky breasts watching Lori shop?

Nothing makes me want to buy a shirt like some exposed brains.

These prices and selection are blowing my mind!

Adventures in cheap food cont.

In the vein of my constant amazement at cheap food lie two things I’ve failed to mention so far.

One is mangos. What do they cost at home, like $2 or $3 a piece? Here they sometimes are three for about 30 cents. I think they are the best fruit ever, tangy and sweet, even creamy. All the volunteers here eat them constantly, each with their own method to try to keep from getting sticky all over, none of the methods completely succeeding.

Also, at restaurants here there’s a nice little secret. It’s called the menu item. Whereas you could normally buy a cebiche, fried fish or fish nugget dish with rice for about $3 or $4 dollars, if you ask for the “menu” item, you can get the same dish, plus a big ol’ appetizer and maybe a kool-aid or something for half the price. Yeah, the same dish plus twice as much food for half the price, just by asking for the menu item. I don’t quite get it. It’s not even a trick to trick un-indoctrinated gringos into paying more. I say that because the restaurants that offer menu are usually the least touristy places around. -JF

Life changes quickly

Life changes quickly around here, and we’re talking major changes, like whether a kid grows up with their parents or in an orphanage. We wake up one morning, and what do you know, there are two new kids. We get the news one morning that a judge has released a boy to his mother and he’s gone before the end of the day.

Usually we have more notice, a week or two, but that usually dwells in the realm of rumor. There’s always the rumor that a family of children will be going home soon. Then one day they do, and life goes on here about the same without them.

That is a little sad, that we just go on without them, but of course it’s the fact of the matter. That sadness is just one part of the cocktail of emotions we feel when a kid leaves with their parents. In all, it’s probably what’s best for them. We hope the parents have pulled things together and are better able to care for their kids than before. But still, in many ways life is easier and better for the kids than at home — always enough food to eat, a guaranteed education, devotionals every night, plenty of friends and activities to keep them entertained.

I also feel a little jealous when parents come to pick up their kids. Don’t they know those kids belong to us? But of course, they don’t really belong to us. They belong to their parents. I just hope these little children we’ve grown to love have a good life.

Lori practices reading with Janet, one of the girls she's formed a strong relationship with, in a quiet spot.

Deysi and Janet watch out the window for their mom to come pick them up.

Deysi waits.

Deysi leaves the orphanage for the last time.

Deysi and Janet wave bye as they leave to go back home with their mom.

Brisa hugs volunteer Nikki as she runs to greet her mom, who's come to pick her up.

A crowd gathers to see Brisa, her brother and sister off.

Brisa's mother checks her hair for lice before leaving.

An orphanage Christmas

So, Christmas has come and gone away from the family. Sure it was sad being away from our families, but still fun to be here. Some of the kids were allowed to be with their parents for Christmas, but the others were in the same boat as us.

But other than the obvious fact that it’s sad for a child to not have any family on Christmas day, they had as good of a Christmas as any kid could want. Various ministries and businesses held parties for us, and gave the kids lots of cake and presents. One especially generous ministry donated the best Christmas gift a child can ever receive. Think about it, have you ever received a gift that you enjoyed more than a new bike. Well, the kids flipped out as soon as they saw them and since then, even several kids who never previously rode bikes have been zipping around like maniacs.

Here, Christmas Eve is actually a bigger celebration than the actual day. We performed some songs, some of the girls prepared dances, and the men reenacted the Christmas story. That night we sang carols and many of the kids stayed up after midnight — a reversal of our culture where kids go to bed as early as they can stand so Santa can come.

On Christmas Day we packed them all into our big bus and strolled around the Plaza de Armas – the center of the city where they had dozens of Christmas trees all decorated. Then we enjoyed the childrens’ favorite meal — roast chicken with fries and Inca Kola — the ubiquitous yellow drink that tastes like some sort of mixture of Big Red, Red Bull and Mountain Dew.

Then what better way to finish off a delicious meal than to suck down a mayonnaise packet or two.

Brisa and Papa Noel.

Dante shows off his manners.

Pierro spots the truck full of bikes as it enters the gate.

Handing out the bikes for a first ride.

The traditional Christmas breakfast of lukewarm chocolate and Paneton - a sweet bread with fruitcake pieces in it.

A wise man breaks into song.

Shepherds watch their flocks by night.

Why we had to pick out a blonde Mary, I'm not sure.

Vacation within a vacation

After 43 total hours on a bus, two land border crossings, seven different bus companies and climates ranging from cloud forests to high sierra to the desert and the beach, Lori and I successfully had an out-of-country vacation to renew our visas. It was actually quite relaxing.

We went last week to Vilcabamba, Ecuador, a little town tucked way back in the Andes Mountains, known for the number of centenarians in the village. It was so tranquil and beautiful. We went to sleep in a cozy cabin with high thread count sheets, a hammock and a shower with seemingly unlimited hot water, awoke to enormous breakfasts of fruit, bread, meat, eggs and crepes — including a bowl of guava jelly on the table with a view overlooking the valley and went on beautiful hikes every day in the mountains.

I know I always like to write on here about how cheap things are, but I’m gonna do it again. This hotel cost less than a Motel 6.

We journeyed to the beach in Peru over the course of the next couple days. I didn’t take many pictures there — and by that I mean any. It’s the most famous beach town in Peru, Mancora. But we like our little relaxed beach town outside Trujillo better. The one was too crowded and touristy for our tastes. And speaking of tastes, the meals were mostly like $10 a pop. I mean, where are we? Beverly Hills?

But, yes, the beach was pretty, the water warmer and less rocky than here. And it’s tough to complain about getting a suntan and boogieboarding the week before Christmas.

So, let’s find something to complain about instead. Oh right. So the first day we were sitting on the beach, commenting about how quiet and peaceful our hotel was, when a girl comes by and asks if we’ve been invited to the party at Punta Ballenas, our hotel — not a good sign. About 11 p.m. the thump, thump of a techno music baseline starts, louder than we play music in our own room, and it doesn’t stop until sunrise.

Here are some pictures from Ecuador, and for good measure, some pictures from a few weeks ago when when went to the beach near Trujillo.

Waiting in the second of many bus stations.

A flower market outside the bus station in Piura, Peru.

The view from our hotel. Just over those mountains is the Amazonian Rainforest.

This cactus flower blooms only one day a year, our first day there.

There's me.

There's us and our little rainbow.

Mt. Mandango

Lori on one hike.

The view from that hike.

A son watches his father play a handmade drum.

Lori chillin' on the back porch.

More mountains and shafts of sunlight.

A resident gives the dog a bath.

A Vilcabamban.

My buddy at the hotel. When he'd give me a lick, his tongue was so big and dry, it was more like being slapped.

Lori in Huanchaco.

A surfer studies the late afternoon waves near a line of "Little Horses," the reed fishing boats used in this town and nowhere else.

A fisherman repairs his nets.