Cough, choke, Chivay!

We are in Chivay, the capital city of Cuylloma province... and you never saw such a mess. I am going to attempt to do what I begged Kate and Lisa to do when they were here and I was still back in the states: describe impressions. Here goes.

This region is a dusty, desert-y place: you can write in the grit over which the mouse is expected to glide, and it´s everywhere that hasn´t been mopped recently. It´s a laser-based mouse; a ball-based one simply wouldn´t work. The dust is a half inch deep alongside the roads. It looks as though it hasn´t rained here since they declared independence many decades ago. Actually it´s very different in the wet season, but right now it´s the dry season and this town takes dry to an extreme you have to experience to believe.

This internet cafe is a noisy place: 4 urchins are crowded around a PC monitor, playing a game and laughing, whistling, clapping and stomping uproariously, as an ignored soccer game blasts on a TV 4 feet behind them. Louder still, the street-facing outside (brick) wall of the floor above me is being removed by a man on a rickety scaffold wielding a hammer and a determined expression.

This internet cafe is also a contradictory place: a hide-the-minimum Brittany Spears poster shares wall space with a sign that says ¡Alto! La pornographica no esta permitda en este local. Other interesting wall decor includes a sign saying ZONA SEGURA EN CASO DE SISMOS. Scant relief, considering the maniacal demolitionist above my head.

This valley (part of Colca Canyon) is a stunning place, surrounded by mountains within a mile that are a mile higher than I... and higher ones still, capped by snow, behind the closer ones.

This is an exciting place: as we descended through the pass and down the switchback to get to town, we passed bicyclists (mostly teenaged tourists) doing upwards of 35 mph inches from the ragged, bumpy edge of the road, the shoulder of which is no wider than my own, contains boulders and weeds, and terminates in a sheer drop of hundreds - sometimes thousands - of feet. Helmets here are just a fashion statement.

This is a Peruvian place:
- sheep, llamas, and alpacas on leashes accompany their owners who are selling handcrafts in the main square
- no matter where we eat, restaurant staff understand vegetarianism and food sensitivities expressed in halting Spanish far better than most American waitstaff seem to understand same with no language barrier
- everyone is friendly and polite - as long as they aren´t driving a car. I´m not a bad writer, but I don´t know where to start to communicate the difference between South and North American driving. Suffice it to say that in the U.S., normal Peruvian driving would be labelled road rage and result in loss of license if not incarceration. You know how in the U.S. when you start to cross a street, if there is a car coming hundreds of feet away, you can hear it decelerate? In South America (or at least every city I´ve visited in Ecuador and Peru), all cars are either accelerating, or braking and honking because another vehicle is blocking their path. Pedestrians may or may not get a honk, but they definitely do not get any deceleration. Incidently pedestrians include herds of sheep, goats, or alpaca being guided by very old or very young people, sometimes accompanied by dogs.

Lisa and Ariel have come to take me to the hot springs. Perhaps those will not be too dusty!

Hasta luego.
- Gary