Enjoying Peru

(pics of this entry available here:)
http://duke.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2064495&l=29cad&id=1313457

We’ve gotten to the point in the summer when we suddenly realize that we don’t have very much time left. In my case, this means that my class on Revelation has started an all-out sprint to try to finish the book before the term is over. Stephanie is drowning under the amount of work the students have turned in, and entirely frustrated over the amount of work they haven’t. Both of us, though, are realizing that we’ve had very little “tourist” time here, and really haven’t seen much more than the area between our house and the seminaries.

Luckily, one of our classes (we were each teaching two) ended recently, giving us two free days a week. Steph and I have begun to take the opportunity to get out a little and see the Huancayo area, which is much more beautiful than we can see from our apartment.

Friday morning, we went out to an interesting place on the outskirts of Huancayo called Torre Torre—literally “Tower Tower.” (And no, even after much debate Stephanie and I have been unable to figure out why they would name a place “Tower Tower” instead of just “Towers.”) It’s kind of like a miniature Grand Canyon: water has eroded away the ground, leaving enormous earthen towers and deep crevices in the middle of nowhere.


Stephanie and I walked up to the edge of Torre Torre and looked up. The formations went all the way up the mountain, widening and narrowing farther than we could see. We saw a small foot path that seemed to go down through some of the larger towers, but it looked steep and unused. While we were arguing about whether or not to follow it (I think Stephanie’s exact words were, “Meredith, I don’t want to die today”), we heard shouting from behind us. A little girl was running toward us, shouting “Hola, gringas! Hola!” It turns out that she, like all the other children who live in the area, act as guides for any lost-looking tourist that happens to wander through.

So, cameras in hand, we set off with our ten-year-old guide, Edith, down the foot-path into the heart of Torre Torre.



It didn’t take us long to realize that Edith was leading us around her playground. She had grown up playing hide-and-seek around the rock formations, and was more than comfortable running up and down the tiny path. As she led us up higher and higher into the towers, we became distinctly aware of the fact that we were not quite as agile nor sure-footed as she. I don’t think we were ever actually in danger of dying, but there were a few moments when I pictured myself flying back to the states with a neckbrace. In one particularly memorable moment, Edith told us, “Look, it’s easier if you run and then jump. Run, gringa, run!” And then to top it off, she stands on the other end of a worn-out section of the path and offers her hand to help us up. I heard Stephanie mutter behind me, “Right, kid, you’re about the size of my thigh.”

Perhaps it was the terror of dismemberment, or perhaps it was the fact that we were trusting our lives to a ten-year-old child, but the morning turned out to be purely delightful. We finally reached the top of the formations to find an open meadow, which Edith promptly instructed us to run across. We spent the next twenty minutes chasing each other around the meadow like children, slowly making our way down the side of the formation—running, of course, all the way. Edith made us stop once so she could pick some flowers to bring back to her mother.

We made it back to normal ground safely, and bade farewell to Edith as we started walking back toward Huancayo. We were covered in dust, bruised, and mildly sunburned, but ridiculously happy.



Another day, Stephanie and I visited several of the nearby pueblos. Peru is traditionally a very artisan-centered culture, and every pueblo around Huancayo has its own particular craft. In one pueblo, the entire town specializes in weaving. We visited a workshop one Saturday and the owner showed us how they made thread from raw alpaca, dyed the thread with plants, and then wove it into tapestries, blankets, and sweaters. Most of the woven objects around here are made with alpaca, but there are also things made from sheep wool, llama wool, and even rabbit fur. They grow the specific plants they need to get different colors of dye. For the deep red, they even harvest a kind of plant that grows on cactus.

Other pueblos specialize in silver or in furniture, but our favorite was the mate pueblo, Conchas. One of the oldest Peruvian crafts is called mate: a dried gourd that is painstakingly carved and colored with charred wood. When Stephanie and I arrived at the workshop, we walked into what was apparently the courtyard of a house. The entire family was seated on rocking chairs in the middle of the courtyard, carving. I suddenly began to understand exactly how much tradition was involved in this art. The old man sitting in the center had been trained by his mother, and he was surrounded by his daughters and his daughters’ children whom he had trained. All of them spent all day, every day, sitting in this courtyard carving the gourds.

The process goes something like this: gourds are dried in the sun and then sent to the artisans’ houses. When I walked upstairs in that workshop, I found a whole side of the house completely filled with gourds. Gourds were piled to the ceiling in three rooms, and then laid out on the balcony as well. They ranged from about the size of a small boulder to ones you could use as keychains or necklaces.

The artisans take a gourd and clean it, and then carve it with what looks like a nail with a wooden handle. This makes an outline of a drawing on the gourd. They then take a charred piece of wood (still smoldering) and rub it over various parts of the drawing to add color. Depending on how hard they blow while coloring, they can get four or five different shades of brown. It’s amazing how precise they are with this part: a woman’s hat is a dark brown, and her face is a lighter shade.

There are several other techniques they use to get white, black, and reddish colors, but all take an extraordinary amount of work and patience. One particular gourd (which told the story of the prodigal son in pictures), took a full week to complete. They make boxes, bowls, keychains, necklaces, centerpieces, instruments, and just about anything else you can think to make with gourds. (And yes, in case you’re wondering, some of you are totally getting these as Christmas presents.)

In our last two weeks, we hope to go visit some nearby ruins and the glacier that overlooks the city. One of these days I’m going to have to grade tests and figure out how to get through the rest of the class in two weeks. But—for at least a couple of days—it has been nice to just enjoy Peru.