My plan was to house-sit and nest and get all comfy in Pisac for the entire duration of my friend´s vacation and then upon his return to use his house as a sort of home base while I get out there and enjoy some of the sights of this awesome country. So, that´s what I´m doing now.

Last Saturday was the first night I´ve stayed away from ´home´ since my arrival in The Sacred Valley back in December of 2008 . . . nearly three and a half months of staying in one place and now I´m back on the open road, with hardly a minute to process all the wonderful things that unfold on a daily basis . . . stay tuned for updates from Peru, Ecuador and Colombia before I finally head back to the US . . .

So, Matt and I are checking out The Inca Heartland from now til the end of April . . . trying to see as much as we can that is off the beaten path. That means we´re not going to Machu Picchu. He went in February with some friends . . . and I went in 2005. We´ve found some breathtaking places that are much more secluded and continue to stumble upon the greatest people and situations . . .

I´ve been calling Apu Pachatusan ´The Rhombus Mountain´ because a unique rock formation just below the tip of the mountain resembles several rhombuses folding into one another. Sometimes it´s nice just to sit down at the river, listen to the water flowing by and look up into the far-off rhombuses and daydream. It truly is a special mountain.

Since Incan times, the earth-based religion of Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador has referred to the spirits of the mountains as apus, or gods. Each mountain, or apu, has it´s own spirit, name and unique qualities. Apu Pachatusan has been revered as a sacred mountain since pre-historic times as a magical place of healing waters. Over the centuries, this mountain´s legend has been Catholicized in an effort to christianize the local indigenous population. As a result, The Sanctuary of Señor De Huanca at Apu Pachatusan, the site of the most popular Andean Catholic miracle, is one of the most visited holy sites by the local population because supposedly Jesus has appeared on this mountain several times and has spoken messages of peace and love.

Almost every car, taxi, bus and store around here displays some mention of Señor De Huanca, usually complete with a glitzy display of a bloody Jesus. I lost count a long time ago of the number of businesses with the name of ¨Señor De Huanca.¨Finally I managed to visit the sanctuary for myself . . .

And I don´t know what took me so long! The place is really beautiful – full of flowers, gardens, groves of eucalyptus trees and flowing fountains reputed to contain magical, healing water. Although there were young, shirtless Peruvian men playing in the water fountains, we collected several bottles of ´magic water´and immediately sterilized our samples when we got home. We shared the magic water last night at dinner. The verdict is out on the water´s healing abilities, but I´ll keep you posted . . . I mean, it´s got the vibes of shirtless men, so it´s got to at least be . . . ahem . . .  energetic, if nothing else.

Upon arrival to the church and sanctuary of Señor De Huanca, the first thing we heard was an explosion of firecrackers that someone set off inside the church! I thought that was pretty cool and I wonder if this kind of thing happens regularly . . .

A couple of things I recommend bringing with you on your trek to the monastery at Señor De Huanca is a plastic bag to collect trash and some dog food. For some reason, there is quite a lot of trash in and around the sanctuary grounds and it´s a custom to collect one bag full of trash as a gratuity. Next time I go, I will also bring either a small bag of dog food or some scraps, as I´ve never seen dogs as skinny and starved as the ones at the top of that mountain.

We went inside the massive Catholic church that´s built at the base of the sanctuary. I found the burnt remnants of the packaging of the firecrackers I´d heard earlier in the day. One interesting thing about the church is that confession is offered in both Spanish and Quechua. The church is a typical Latin Catholic church, full of altars and flowers and bleeding Jesuses. That Thursday afternoon when I visited, the pews were full of praying families and squirming kids.

Most of my attention was focused to the window near the ceiling of the church, which shows a spectacular view of the peak of Apu Pachatusan. I´m glad that at least the church respected the Apu enough to include a window so that the indigenous, Catholicized mountain people could at least have a scrap of memory about the original significance of their sacred mountain . . .

Here´s the view of the Sacred Valley from the fields above the sanctuary of Señor De Huanca . . .

Peruvian men don´t have the genes for  growing much in the way of facial hair, so his is a real novelty around these parts. Yesterday, we sat in a shady spot and did our normal thing – watched the Sunday market in the Plaza De Armas in Pisac, Peru. We were quietly resting when Matt suddenly exclaimed, ¨Aha, I caught them! I caught all four of those ladies staring at my beard!¨ He pointed toward four Andean women across the walkway from us who were sitting on blue tarps in the bright sun selling onions, peppers and carrots. They all smiled and quickly looked away, giggling.

We waited, resting for a few more minutes. I let my eyes drift over toward the row of women. I waited until they all stared again, because I knew it would happen . . . and then . . . just when all eyes were on Matt, I reached over next to him, still staring straight ahead and with no emotion and without looking at him, I gave a good solid yank on his beard.

They all fell into fits of laughter again, this time whispering to one another behind their hands. Then we got an idea. We practiced the whole schpeil in Spanish a few times first. Then I went over to talk to the women.

¨Hello! Good Afternoon!¨I said to the ladies in Spanish. ¨You know, if you want to touch his beard, it´s ok with me. Only ONE SOLE.¨ They knew I was kidding. They shook their heads and the laughter started again. ¨But, you can touch it for free if you´ll let me take your picture while you´re doing it!¨

No takers. Darn. We would have traded – a little touch of the beard for some onions . . . why not?

This café is the perfect fusion of everything enjoyable about Pisac – fresh, local food, truly hand crafted art, (unlike many of the factory-made things being sold by those calling themselves ‘artesanos’ in the market), a chill atmosphere and a very welcoming, gringo-friendly attitude. Although the owners speak only Spanish, the place is decorated inside and out with thick, gorgeous carved wood signage displaying nearly perfect English. The wide-ranging menu is offered in both Spanish and English. A lot of establishments in Peru use bad English on signage and in printed menus, but the professionalism and attention to detail of The Ayahuasca Café doesn’t end here.

The place is tiny; the front room only has four tables, a couple of small couches and a coffee table. For the weary traveler, this place is chill-out heaven, offering a respite from the bright sun. Jazzy music with an international flair plays on the speaker system. Daniela, the owner, always asks me if the music ¨is good for inspiration¨ when I sit for hours at one of the little tables, writing in my journal.

The interior of the restaurant doorway is hand-painted with a colorful bird pattern that is reminiscent of Inka designs. In Peru, it can be difficult to find a perfectly clean, comfortable and visually pleasing eatery with good service, so this gem is not to be overlooked. Although not advertised, if you have an international phone card, they might allow you to use their nice cordless phone for free if you’re a customer. When not taking an order or cooking food, the owners are busy making art while hanging out in the back room.

The walls are a warm yellow color and decorated with unique items for sale – Shipibo ayahuasca tapestries in all sizes, visionary ayahuasca prints and paintings made by local shamans and a prominent Artesano display in the middle of the room is loaded down with local hand-made jewelry, carved items and small sculptures. From carved poles hangs a display of t-shirts painted with a colorful array of trippy little dwarves. One window is loaded with hunks of natural incense of copal, myrrh and palo santo.

The café con leche is rich and piping hot, the juices freshly squeezed and/or blended and the burgers are delectable, served on a quarter round of fresh, wood-fired whole wheat bread, and dripping with mashed avocado. From vegetarian specialties like spaghetti pesto to the sweet pankekes (crepes) offered for dessert, the menu has something enjoyable for everyone. After your meal, if you want to leave your giant backpack behind, this is a safe spot to do so. The owners will gladly hold your pack while you make the roughly 2-hour arduous climb up the mountain to visit the spectacular Pisac ruins.

The nicest thing about this café is that although it definitely has a new-age shamanic vibe, the proprietors never bring it up – unless a customer asks. This laid-back attitude is refreshing and welcoming – mostly everything in Peru is too aggressive with sales pitches. The prices are very fair (about $3 US for a three course meal with a hot drink) and the portions generous – most gringo friendly places overcharge for less than spectacular food.

Apparently, they do have a 4.50 sole portion of chicken – it´s an 1/8 of a chicken, a smaller portion of fries and a smaller bowl of (truly) yummy chicken foot soup. Ah, no matter that all this time they never asked us which portion we wanted. Every time we walked in, they just handed us the biggest plate they had.

Now we know. And I suppose I didn´t completely understand my new friend. She meant an 1/8 of a chicken for 4.50 soles. The smaller portion is so much better anyway! So, go to Las Gamelas Polloria for the best chicken in Pisac. They may not have a menu, but they do have two different sized portions. Now you know!

¨I´ll see you later,¨ he said.

And from out of nowhere, the thought came, ¨What if I were to die today?¨ I shook the thought away, kissed my love good-bye and got on the bus to Cusco.

——————————————————————————————————–

It happened on my way home. As the bus crossed the high mountain pass just east of Cusco, heading back toward Pisac, the Peruvian police randomly stopped us and asked the driver for his credentials. I think it was just a routine check, nothing serious. Then the driver and the bus conductor (the guy who takes the money) both got off the bus to talk to the police. After a minute or two, the bus began to slowly . . . slowly, then a little faster . . . roll backwards!

Everyone on the bus noticed at the same time. Everyone looked up and kind of sucked in their breath with a quiet, collective panic at the exact same moment - because we were rolling backwards toward the edge of a sheer cliff with no driver in the driver´s seat!!

Forty sets of eyes instantly shifted to the person closest to the driver´s seat – a traditionally dressed Quechua woman who was loaded down with a manta full of something strapped to her back. She couldn´t move very easily.  

She moved like lightning, despite her heavy load, toward the driver´s seat with her hands in front of her, as though she were going to dive under the dash and try to find the brakes with her hands. Her body language told me that she didn´t know how to drive a car. My stomach began to sink. Everyone was quiet. No one had thought to scream just yet.

Then, from out of nowhere, the driver came running and jumped onto the bus and set the parking brake. It happened just that fast. One minute everyone on that bus was fucked and the very next second everything was suddenly OK again. Life´s like that sometimes.

Luckily for us, there was a separate driver´s door on the left side of the bus, so he could just hop in and not be blocked by the crush of riders standing in the front of the bus. Luckily for us, the bus hadn´t gathered so much momentum that the driver couldn´t still jump on. Luckily for us, Peruvian bus drivers are accustomed to jumping on and off a moving bus. Lucky for us.

 The other day a girl was walking down the road, pushing a bicycle cart. Just as I was about to pass her, we were coming upon a slight incline. I grabbed the back of the bicycle and began to help her push the bike and cart across the little footbridge and up the hill. I wasn’t paying attention and my foot went through the slats of the footbridge and I fell all the way up to my knee, hand still on bicycle.

Luckily, I didn’t get hurt at all. The entire situation was funny to me and I couldn’t stop laughing as I stood there up to my thigh caught in the footbridge. I couldn’t stop laughing as I climbed out and I certainly couldn’t stop laughing as the girl and I finished pushing the bike up the hill.

She stopped to make sure that I was all right. We ended up talking (even though we barely could understand one another) and walking all the way to Pisac. She’s a nice girl. We sort of became friends on our walk. We got to talking about restaurants.

I told her that my favorite was Las Gamelas Polloria. Her eyes lit up. She said in spanish, “Isn’t it a great place? And only 4.50 soles for a quarter chicken!”

Wait. Just. One. Minute. They always charge us nine soles for a quarter chicken. Ah! Gringo pricing has struck once again! I’ll go back, for sure, but this time, I’ll do some more bargaining, even if I need to take it up with Mama Chicken herself . . . .

The rainy season in Peru is officially over. Peru has two seasons only – wet and dry.  Most books you read and people you talk to will tell you to come to Peru only during the dry season. Well, here´s my insider tip: I highly recommend visiting Peru during the wet season, mostly because the ´wet season´ isn´t really all that wet.

When I arrived in late December, everyone I knew in Pisac talked about how dismal the wet season was going to be. That´s when I also found out that everyone I knew planned their vacations from January through March – all the local bed and breakfast owners, the cafe owner and even alot of the shamans. As far as people I know, it´s been sort of a ghost town around here but I´ve still enjoyed this place immensely, even though I´ve missed my local friends. The cafes were still open, as were the hostels and don´t worry – there´s always a multitude of shamanic medicine available here.

The friend I´m house-sitting for comes back in two weeks. The new school year began for the children of the Andes yesterday morning – many of them wore uniforms and shiny dress shoes. The epic water balloon fights of school vacation have officially come to an end. And – no matter what the media says about the economy – the tourists are back in force.

January and February were not all that rainy here in the Sacred Valley. Most days began a little overcast and misty, but after a couple of hours, it would be all blue skies and puffy white clouds. The mud dries quickly around here. I only wore mud boots once during the entire rainy season. There was only one night where it rained all night long and maybe two days of solid rain – every other bit of moisture was intermittent and even enjoyable.

The best part about visiting Peru during the rainy season is the lack of other tourists. During the months of January and February, it seemed as though I spied a fair number of khaki-covered, lens-toting tourists. But now that March has arrived and the tour busses are backed up down the narrow streets, choking everyone with noxious exhaust fumes, I can tell that the droves of sightseers have officially arrived.

Honestly, I´ve begun to avoid the market even more than normal. All the restaurants are packed. The local B&B´s are over-booked. My friend Rosie says that the American tourists are the ones who spend the money. And so, in a way, I´m glad that the dry season has returned. The people I know who have businesses here are about to flourish once again and the vendors who sell their wares will once again have buyers.

But I feel so very lucky that I´ve had a chance to experience this beautiful place when it was just a little quieter than normal . . . !

A lot of the time, we ignore vendors for the simple fact that in Peru, every second of the day, at every bus or collectivo stop, on every streetcorner and in every way one could imagine, there are endless people trying to sell something – food, handicrafts, CD´s, juices, massages – the list goes on and on. But that evening was different. Perhaps it was the blank look on the dirty child´s face. Maybe it was her simple insistence. Hell, maybe we were just hungry after the long day of bus rides and hiking.

We paid the two soles, expecting her to just pull one rocoto out of the bulging plastic bag. Matt pressed the coin into her hand and without any further emotion, she thrust the entire bag toward him, nearly dropping it his lap and quickly disappeared. I´d been wanting to try rocoto relleno for some time, but had no idea what I was missing!

We opened the bag. Inside were two rellenos and three small boiled potatoes – a great deal! Rocoto relleno, a classic Peruvian dish whose origins come from the town of Arequipa,  is a type of pepper that grows in South America and is usually stuffed with meat and vegetables. No, it doesn´t taste anything like an American stuffed bell pepper, not even close. It´s infinitely better!

The relleno batter (my favorite part) was rich and tasted sort of cheese-like. They were filled with a savory mixture of meat and spices. We polished off the entire contents in the bag in under five minutes and decided immediately to get second serving.

Thus began our obsession with rocoto relleno. It seems like now the entire rocoto relleno world has opened up to us. That next week, all the sole menu places in Pisac were serving them, it seemed. We tried them all.

At the market that Sunday, we went from tent to tent, trying the rocoto relleno of every mamacita in sight. After eating four in a row, we finally headed home. Oddly enough, in response to the tourist palate, the ladies of the market have begun to only serve vegetarian versions of this Peruvian carne classic.

I still haven´t found a rocoto relleno that was as rich and savory and classic as the one that little girl served to us, and certainly not one as economical. But, I certainly plan to keep looking! And I plan to continue to rocoto relleno tours, especially anytime I see a row of vendors all selling them. That´s my favorite way to sample them – four in an hour!