The Joys of Teaching

One month down, five more to go. It's exam week, which means that, with a few scrapes and bruises, I have survived my first month of teaching. It's been an interesting month. If the next five go by as quickly as the first one, I'll be done in no time. It's also been stressful and exhausting, and I've made a fool out of myself more than once, and yet I'm enjoying it. (Since I can't use Spanish and I should stay away from definitions, the best way to explain something is usually to act it out. Last week, I got down on my hands and knees and did a push-up in front of my class.) My biggest challenge (obviously) has been Hitler and his entire class. At the end of week 1 I discovered part of my problem was that they didn't understand the meaning of the word "quiet." By the end of week 2 I had no choice but to put my foot down and assign them seats. Things have improved slightly since then.

Peruvians definitely have an interesting mix of names. First, I have Hitler, but I also teach a Roosevelt. It would be even more amusing if they were in the same class, but alas, Roosevelt is much more advanced than Hitler. He's also a much more pleasant person. Go figure. Hitler is incredibly stubborn and gets very frustrated with me when I won't speak in Spanish. He also flat out refuses to answer questions sometimes and does not play well with others. Every time I assign pair work, he won't actually work with his partner. Last week, however, Hitler missed his first class of the month. I discovered that Basico 2 can be a bit fun as long as Hitler's not around. (I'm sure Europe felt the same way.) At the same time, I can't help but feel for the guy. Because of his name, he can't ever leave Peru. He most certainly can't go to Europe, there's probably a few countries who wouldn't even let him in. As far as other names go, there's a mix of traditional Hispanic names (I teach several Carlos's, Luis's, and every variation of Rose possible. Rosa, Rosario, Rosio...) and older English names, like Nancy and Wilbert. On the flip side, most all my students call me "teacher." A few of them call me Kelli, but even if I tell them to call me Kelli, they still insist on "teacher." Now I turn my head whenever I hear that word. This must be what parents feel like when they're out and they hear "mom" or "dad."

I find myself questioning the English language more than ever. Did you know there are 11 meanings of the verb "to get"? Why? I never think 'I'm going to speak in the future progressive tense right now', I just do it, so when I have to teach it, it's very frustrating. I've had a few students tell me I'm wrong before, and it really shakes my confidence. (Then I remember I'm the teacher, and the only one in the room who grew up speaking English.) Last week I drew a timeline on the board to demonstrate breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and my class (that lovely Basico 2 class I adore so much) insisted I was missing a fourth meal. As far as I know, Peruvians eat the same three meals we do, so I have no idea where that one came from.
And how do you correct writing when it doesn't make any sense? It's one thing to find a punctuation, spelling, or even conjugation mistake, but when a sentence isn't even a sentence so much as a jumbled mess of words, where do you even begin? I'm hoping to find out in month 2.

Lunch with the Locals

I've heard from a few of you that I seem to be hanging out with only Americans. This is partially true. In Ecuador, there were no Americans, (Ok, there were some. I met 4 in my 3 weeks there) so I was hanging out with many nationalities, including Ecuadorians. Americans aren't in Ecuador because they're all in Peru. (But in my defense, I've been hanging out with a few Brits as well.) Meeting Peruvians has been a bit tougher. I have my students, of course, but while there are no rules against fraternization with students, it's still a bit awkward. Plus, it's nearly impossible to be "just friends" with Peruvians of the male variety. I had a student suggest we go out for Pisco Sours and dancing, but I'm pretty sure he had other intentions. (I'm finding that nearly every other teacher has tales of admirers. Apparently, a good number of them learn English to meet the teachers.) Today, however, I had lunch with Marisol, who is the student I was giving private lessons to the first couple weeks. First, she came along with me so I could make my reservations for hiking the Inca Trail (April 15th!). She's a trail guide (for another, more expensive company) but she knows the owner of this particular company and told me she was going to call the owner tonight to confirm my reservation and suggest the best guides for my trip. So sweet. Anyway, she took me out to lunch at a truly local restaurant. I was the only gringa in the place, and Marisol knew everybody. Very cool. We spoke English and Spanish, practice for her and me. Unfortunately, Marisol has to get back on the trail next week, so she won't be around very often. Shame.

I didn't even fall out of the boat!

Yesterday, I crossed something else off life's to-do list: white water rafting. I went with a group of teachers to the Urubamba River, which boasts class 5 rapids. When we got to the lodge and changed into our rafting gear, we had a good laugh over the ever-so-stylish wetsuits we put on, many of which had holes in unflattering places. Mine had a nice big patch over the center of the bum. It looked like a trapdoor. The day was sunny and warm until it was time to get on the river. As we pushed off from shore, the rain started (not that we noticed the rain anyway), but the clouds and the wind made for a chilly day.
In Ecuador, I went tubing, which was a blast. Rafting is also a blast, but much more work. You actually have to paddle, whereas with tubing, you just hang on for dear life. (Tubing also lasted 20 minutes, yesterday we were on the river for over 2 hours.) It didn't take us long to realize we couldn't look at Jake, who was in another boat. Jake's rafting faces are the funniest faces I've ever seen. If we looked at him, we were laughing too hard to actually paddle. (When we got the pictures back, Alayne and I laughed until our stomachs hurt and we had to run to the bathroom. Jake says he has a very expressive face. No kidding.)
The rafting itself is a wild ride. It's moments of calm interrupted by wild rapids trying to throw you out of the boat. Peter fell out twice, and Alayne was tossed out by her guide, but everyone in my boat stayed in place, even though I did get tossed around a few times. Occasionally, a huge splash of water would go right down the collar of my wetsuit, and I swallowed a good bit of the Urubamba, mostly because I was smiling and shrieking and couldn't keep my mouth closed. That was never very pleasant. The toughest part was to keep paddling while going over big rapids. At that point, synchronization went out the window and we just tried to hold on. The biggest rapid we did was a 4+. Scary and awesome at the same time.
By the time we finished, my fingers and toes were white and numb, and we were all pretty exhausted. Luckily, the lodge where we finished had a sauna, so we were able to warm up nicely in there. Then they fed us a huge lunch. Then, of course, the sun came out.

They sure don't beat around the bush

In response to Tonya's latest comment, I thought I'd share this little story. On Monday, I took my 6 hour break between morning and afternoon classes and hiked up to a few ruins above the city. My first stop was Saqsaywaman (yes, it sounds just like "sexy woman"), a fortress that was mostly destroyed by the conquistadors, though it's so huge you'd never know it. While I was taking a picture of myself next to an absolutely enormous rock, two guys asked me to take their picture. Or at least I thought they were asking me to take their picture. They really wanted a picture of me. I declined and headed in the opposite direction. I thought it was a little strange that they wanted a picture of a random gringa, but I was wearing my green leprechaun hat, so maybe they wanted a picture of an Obnoxious Andean Tourist to show their friends in Lima. They are awfully direct, no? Anyway, I had yet another peanut butter and jelly sandwich on top of Q'enqo, just down the road, overlooking the city. Considerably better than participating in Staff Day at the library.

And, if you're interested in the Discovery Channel, you should really check out this picture. It took me a moment to comprehend what was going on in front of me. Very educational.

Peru keeps impressing me

On Saturday, I decided I needed a mental health day, and chose to stay home. I went grocery shopping, went for a run\walk, (but mostly a walk. I ran a total of about 6 blocks. And before you call me out of shape, I want to see how far you can run at this altitude before you keel over.) wrote some letters, and went salsa dancing for the first time in 3 weeks, which is far too long to go without a little salsa. My roommates left on Saturday to visit more ruins, but I decided to make a day trip of it on Sunday.

It was my first time venturing out on my own, but I did pretty well. I asked questions, and figured out which buses to get on and never got lost! On the way to Ollantaytambo, I had to sit right up front next to the driver. My seat wasn´t exactly attached to the bench, so everytime we turned I had to work really hard not to fall into the driver or the person sitting on the other side of me. It reminded me of a rental car we had in Mexico. After that bus, I had to take a mini-bus to Ollantaytambo. Mini-buses are basically vans into which they cram as many people as humanly possible. This was my first mini-bus experience, usually I just see people mashed up against the windows and think I´d much rather pay the extra soles for a cab. I arrived in Ollantaytambo in one piece and not too smushed, but at the same time as a large tour bus of gringos. I´ve been pretty lucky with my sighseeing in that it hasn´t been busy at any of the places I´ve been to. In Moray, we had the whole place to ourselves, which is pretty awesome, so I really can´t complain that I actually had to share my ruin with other people. (Although do they have to look so American? Seriously, the shorts, sneakers, white socks, and hats with the neck-flap thingy are never OK.)

My favorite thing about Incan ruins is that you pretty much have free range to explore. There are very few areas roped off, so you´re free to discover little stone hallways and crawl into caves. Basically, it´s easy to spend several hours climbing on piles of rocks. I´ve also discovered that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches taste best when eaten picnic style on an Incan terrace. Even better than a restaurant.

When I was changing buses to go to Chinchero, my next stop, I kept hearing someone call my name. I was wondering if there was a word in Spanish that sounds an awful lot like Kelli, when I realized it was my roommates, and a friend of ours, and they were on the bus I needed to be on. Somehow, I had caught up to them, even though they had an entire day´s head start. (I´m an efficient traveler.) So I joined them to Chinchero.

Chinchero impressed me, just like everything else in Peru has. Everything is bigger, better, and more beautiful than I expected. Chinchero is a small Andean market town, and all the locals were hanging out in front of the church when we went through. We even stopped to hang out with them. The views at Chinchero were pretty spectacular too, of course. My only complaint was that the little girls selling their friendship bracelets followed us forever. And when we politely said no, gracias, they would say (in English) "maybe later" until we kept saying no several laters more.

He's Just Not that Into You in Peru, either

Yesterday was Valentine´s Day (in case you didn´t notice) and I decided to have fun with my classes and do some Valentine´s Day lessons. Except with my Basico 2 class. They don´t deserve to have fun. (In all seriousness, they´re so far behind, I can´t afford to do anything with them that wouldn´t be on their exam.) It worked out beautifully. It just so happened that two of my classes were scheduled to have a modals review anyway (could, would, should, etc. for those of you who don´t remember your grammar vocab), so I had them ask for and give relationship advice. When I asked them for a problem they might have with a boyfriend or girlfriend, a woman in my first class said "He says he´s going to call, but he never does." Aha! It´s universal! I had the men in the class explain why they might not call, and their reasons were the same excuses you´d hear anywhere else. "I had to work." "I was busy," etc. That´s when I made my plug for He´s Just Not That Into You for the ladies of the class. I also furthered their English education by teaching them a few pick-up lines. I have a feeling there will be an epidemic of Peruvian men approaching gringa ladies this weekend with lines like "Is your dad a baker? Because your buns are perfect" or the classic "I lost my phone number, can I have yours?"

I even had a student volunteer to be my boyfriend. The conversation went something like this:
Student A: Teacher, do you have a boyfriend?
Me: No.
Student B: I.... voluntary!
Me: (pause) OK, get out your homework...

I´ve found that people are really interested in your love life here in South America. I´ve had to discuss it twice in Spanish class with 2 of my Spanish teachers. (I´ve had 3 in 3 weeks.) When I answer in the negative to the "Do you have a boyfriend" question, I always get the same response, without fail. No?!!!! Why not?! It would never occur to me to ask someone why they didn´t have a boyfriend. It´s not like I can just go to the boyfriend store and pick one out. But we North Americans (so they tell me) aren´t very romantic. We´re too practical. We let things like distance and circumstances get in our way. That´s the lecture Alayne received from her Spanish teacher (my 1st Spanish teacher) anyway.

Happy Belated Single´s Awareness Day, everybody.

Home Sweet Home

Meet Chester. Or, more acurately, Chester´s friends. Not only are we the proud renters of the
world´s ugliest sofa, but also the world´s ugliest sofa´s matching footstool, loveseat, and chair. How cool is that?
On Saturday, the roommates and I had a housewarming party to introduce Chester to the rest of the world. The theme was "obnoxious Andean tourist" and llama motifs were highly encouraged. Best party theme EVER.

So far, we haven´t really spent a whole lot of time in our little apartment. If you looked in our refrigerator, you´d never know that 3 people live there. We have, however, had time to pick up on all the personality quirks it has, besides Chester, of course. First of all, the house if pretty much made out of glass. I haven´t really been there during the day all that much, but it´s nice and sunny, and has a nice greenhouse effect to keep it warm. (There´s no such thing as heated homes here in South America, and it does get cold at night here in the mountains.) The wall of my bedroom that connects it to the living room, however, is also all windows. I have a curtain, but it´s only a matter of time before I start getting too lazy to close the curtain every time I want to change my clothes. The wall that seperates my room from Jake´s room is nothing more than a piece of plywood. I can hear him yawn. And roll over. The art on the walls is classic. I have a creepy Jesus picture in my room, and a Tiny Tunes light fixture on the ceiling. Jake has a picture of an irredescent (American) suburban home, and his light fixture features Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. Alayne somehow avoided the crazy artwork.

But the quirkiest room in the house is most definitely the bathroom. First of all, Peruvian plumbing leaves a lot to be desired. Toilet paper is not to be flushed down the toilet. (This is a very hard habit to break. It´s just natural that you throw the toilet paper down the toilet when you´re done with it!) Our toilet won´t actually turn off unless you open the lid and turn it off yourself. The sink faucet likes to turn itself on at random when no one is around. I don´t know if we need a ghost hunter or a plumber. And the shower is hot when it wants to be, but that´s not a situation unique to our apartment.

We do, however, have a nice little patch of grass with rosebushes and a laundry sink. (Yes, I did my own laundry by hand, then hung it up to dry on the clothes lines. It was very idyllic. I also realized what insanely bright underwear and socks I have. Not exactly conspicuous.) Someday I hope to have time to sit there in the sun with a book. Maybe next week?

The Weekend Part 2: Um, Has Anyone Seen My Wallet?

Sunday morning the roommates and I met up with a few other teachers and headed to Pisac, another Incan ruin site in the Sacred Valley. Pisac is a market town on Sunday mornings, but I was a bit spoiled by Otavalo in Ecuador, so I can't say I was that impressed by the market. I can't say the same for the ruins. I think it might be my favorite spot on the planet. I don't even think I know enough words to describe it. Every time we turned a corner, we just kept saying things like "wow," "amazing," and "awesome." I was expecting a few terraces, but there were a lot more than a few. It was absolutely huge. Terraces all the way up the mountain, with ruins of houses in clusters all over the peaks, and a religious sector of temples and a sacrificial rock for llamas. We spent a few hours up there. Before we left, we made friends with Pedro, a young boy selling his handmade bracelets and belts. I'm not quite sure how people make a living by selling things for the equivalent of 30 cents, but they're all over the place. I didn't buy anything from Pedro, but I did offer him a cookie from my lunch. I know I contributed to the rotting of his teeth, but I think the smile on his face when he heard galleta was well worth it. We had an awesome hike down the mountain with great views of the largest Incan cemetery. They're actually buried in the side of the cliff. How they got up there, much less made it up there with a dead body and some tools, I have no idea. As we approached the town, a torrential downpour started, but we learned our lesson Saturday and whipped out the rain gear.

The weekend was great until the very end. We took a crowded bus back to Cusco, and it wasn't until I was in the taxi on the way home and had to pay the driver that I realized my wallet was gone. (I also realized my Spanish is best in a crisis situation when I was able to explain the situation to the driver and tell him I would get money from the house and be right out. Don't ask me how.) And I thought I was doing so well with the karma points. (I'll explain my beliefs on karma and travel at a later time.) I had it on the bus since I paid for my ride, then put it back in my bag. Somehow, it must have been lifted while it was in my zippered bag, which was sitting on my lap. There is a very talented thief out there somewhere. Luckily, the damage is minimal. While I lost a bit of cash and my ability to get cash, I was able to cancel everything immediately, and I get paid on Friday. Besides the inconvenience of having another card sent to Peru, I'm fine. Now I just have to start racking up more karma points...

The Weekend Part 1: Caught in a Hail Storm while Horseback Riding in the Andes

Saturday morning was absolutely beautiful. In fact, it was beautiful all week, quite a change from my first week in Cusco when it rained every day. Alayne and I planned on climbing up to the Blanco Christo, a statue high above the city with good views. At the last minute, we asked Jake if he wanted to come along, which he did. That sealed our fate for the day. As we were huffing and puffing our way up the very steep streets, we ran into someone Jake met the week before (he's been here just over two weeks, and yet he seems to know everyone), who offered us a great price on horseback riding to several Incan sites. We didn't think about it for too long before saying yes.

The horses, which are a special Peruvian breed, were just plain funny. Jake's horse wasn't happy unless he was half a mile ahead of everyone else, and if he was behind, he had no problems pushing other horses out of the way. Obviously the bully horse. My horse didn't like to listen to me. Our 13-year-old guide, David, kept yelling at me to pull the horses reins to get him to stop. I was, it wasn't doing any good. And Alayne's horse had one speed, which was a very, very slow walk. David was in for a long day.

Our first stop was the Incan temple of the moon. It was an impressive pile of rocks, with lots of caves that included altars. (That's us on top of the temple when we were warm, dry, and happy.) Fun exploring. We took a lot longer than the 10 minutes David recommended. We hopped back on the horses and headed up the mountain (Jake becoming a speck in the distance). I was worried my horse, Inti, wasn't going to make it. He was breathing pretty hard. I'd say it was the altitude, but I'm pretty sure the horse is adjusted to that. We stopped for two different sites, Tambomachay, a former Incan water cult, and Pukapukara, an Incan fort. The latter of which has amazing views, from which we could see the dark clouds approaching through the valley. On our way back to the horses, the rain started. By the time we got to the horses, it was a downpour, and the temperature was dropping. We crouched down beside a mud wall for protection, and because they're always there when you need them, locals appeared selling ponchos. I don't know where they came from, but we needed it to say the least. The beautiful weather had lulled us into a false sense of security, and we were most definitely not prepared. As soon as we got our ponchos on, the rain turned to hail. We huddled together for warmth against our mud wall for almost an hour. I'm sure we were a pathetic site. Three gringos verging on hysteria (we never stopped laughing, what else can you do?) wet and freezing. And muddy. When we got home, I realized I looked like I had been dragged through the mud.

It hadn't quite stopped raining when we got back on the horse. I couldn't feel my fingers, which made it difficult to hold the reins of my horse. We went to one more site, a bunch of tunnels the Incas had built to hide from the Spanish, who were trying to kill them. I only wish I had full function of my fingers to be able to get my camera out. (I'll steal some photos from Alayne and Jake.) There are always Peruvians selling everything, including sweaters and gloves, but when you need them, they aren't there! (I can't really complain too much after the miraculous appearance of the ponchos.)

After returning our horses and saying good-bye to David, we actually did make it to the Blanco Christo, but it was the least impressive part of the day. The best part was a kid named William, who spoke English very well, but needed a bit of practice. He asked Jake if Alayne was his woman or his brother.

Tomorrow: The Weekend, Part 2: Um, Has Anyone Seen my Wallet?

Corrupting Peruvians One at a Time

When they asked me to teach private lessons, I got a bit whiney about it. (I know what you´re thinking. Kelli? Whiney? NEVER!) However, I really enjoy teaching Marisol. We´re the same age, and she´s pretty interesting. It´s by far my easiest class of the day. If only I could drop that pesky Basico 2 class and have some time to myself...

Marisol is pretty advanced, even though she´s never taken an English class before, so I´m supposed to be teaching her out of the intermediate reading book. Problem is, the readings in the reading book are pretty darned dull. I looked through the additional readings in the academic office and came up with the perfect solution: a reading called "What did you say? English Swear Words." Bingo. When I presented it to Marisol, she was very excited. She had already heard a lot of what we went over but had no idea what it meant. We had a great time reading up on the history of cursing. We even got in a mini-grammar lesson by learning how to use certain words as nouns, adjectives, verbs, adverbs, conjuctions, and much more. I´m sure this may come as a bit of a surprise, since you´ve probably never heard me swear before. (Maybe one or two of you, but that´s about it.) Don´t worry, this won´t start a new trend. I´m just trying to educate my student.

What´s in a Name? Plenty.

For the two readers I have left, (thanks, mom and dad, even though I know you´ll read anything I write and think it´s up there with War and Peace) it´s been a very, very long week, and I´m only halfway through Thursday. Teaching got easier by the second day, but it´s exhausting (teachers are always overworked and underpaid, right?). My first class is at 7am. My last class ends at 9pm. I have a 6 hour break in the middle, but that fills up fast. First of all, I have my own Spanish lessons twice a week for 2 hours. On Wednesday, I was looking forward to going home, (attempting to) go for a run, taking a shower, and hopefully squeezing in a nap, when they told me they needed me to teach private lessons for the rest of the week. I was pretty annoyed, but it´s extra money that I can definitely use (it will pay for my own private Spanish lessons) and the girl I´m tutoring is pretty brilliant. She says she´s never taken an English class before, but you´d never know it. She taught herself by reading books. (I learned today that she´s an Inca Trail guide, and she leads the tours in French. Smart chica.) Besides the exhaustion, my classes are all going well, with the exception of my Basico 2 class. They´re my lowest level class, so it should be the most challenging, but they just make it worse. I can´t get them to stop talking. Yesterday I had to lecture, which I really hate doing, especially when I´m sure they didn´t really understand what I was saying. It just so happens that Hitler is the worst offender. If he´s not talking to whomever is sitting next to him, he´s trying to get my attention (even if I´m talking) by just repeating "teacher, teacher, teacher" over and over and over again. I think I´m going to have to put him in a corner by himself, but I don´t know if that will work. (I still can´t call him by his first name. My guess is that his parents are very uneducated and thought it was a powerful name instead of an evil one. But how is it possible that no one has said to him, "You know, Hitler was one bad dude. You should really find a nickname." Hmmmm, maybe I should get that ball rolling...) So between 3 and 4pm on weekdays, please send patient vibes my way. It would be much appreciated.

First Day of School

Today was my first day teaching. And nobody even took my picture with my lunch box and knee socks. It was an interesting day, to say the least. First of all, I had to teach several classes on the fly. Between Friday, when I received my schedule, and today, the schedule changed a bit. I wasn't even supposed to have a 7am class, so I was pretty surprised when I learned of that change at 6:50am. (Then I found out later that they actually fired someone over the weekend. I suspect that was her class.) A few highlights and lowlights from my first day on the job:

• I completely screwed up while teaching (on the fly) the verb "to do." I don't think I have ever, ever given two seconds of thought as to the difference between using "do" as an auxiliary verb or a main verb. I promised them I would make it all better tomorrow. I still haven't quite figured out how. (Please, please send me any suggestions you have!)
  
• In that same class, I have a student named Hitler. That's his first name. I think I'm going to have to ask him if he has a nickname. It's too distracting, I'm just not capable of referring to someone by the same name as the most evil dictator in history.
  
• Also in the same class, one of my students brought her three year old son. This is going to be my most stressful class, I can tell.
• I'm no artist, and while illustrating vocabulary on the board, I ended up drawing something that looked more like a rather phallic symbol. I immediately erased, thus giving myself away.
  
• My Advanced I class is reading a story about genetics. Seriously?!

I can't believe I have to get up in a few hours and do it all over again.

El Super Bowl en Espanol

So I guess there was a pretty good football game on tv. And before you e-mail me to tell me about it, let me just tell you first: I saw it. That's right, the neighborhood didn't have running water for most of the weekend, but our neighbors have directTV. Alayne and I were invited by our new friend Sarah to her apartment. I just met Sarah on Friday, and it just so happens she lives about three blocks from me. She's actually a friend of my friend Kelly, who is currently working for the peace corps in Turkmenistan, and Kelly sent me her contact info. They met in Buenos Aires. I have such an exotic and well-traveled group of friends, no? Anyway, Sarah and her roommates went all out. They made chili and had plenty of chips, dip, and all kinds of game day food. A little piece of home right here in Cusco. And before you can say, "Wait a minute, you went to Peru so you could hang out with Americans and watch the SuperBowl?!" I just want to point out that the game was telecast on FoxSports En Vivo, so the broadcast was in Spanish. I learned lots of new Spanish words like incompleto. The broadcasters were (we assume, based on the fact they had the same name) a father/son team. They're like the Carays or the Bucks of the Spanish speaking American football world. I was a bit disappointed though in their touchdown calls (although there seriously wasn't anything to get excited about for the first three quarters). Based on Latin American soccer calls, I was expecting something along the lines of TOUCHDOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWNNNNNNNN! with lots of hysteria, but it was a lot more subdued, along the lines of Harry Kalas. Although Harry Kalas makes Eeyore sound exciting, so that's not really a fair comparison. These guys were way better. (I know I'm comparing football to baseball, but it's what I know.)

Hitch-hiking and Mystery Meat

I've been in Cusco for a week, but I've been a bit busy, what with apartment hunting and orientation for work, but today I was finally able to go see some things. I was really looking forward to some Incan ruins, so that's what I did.

I went with three girls I met while staying at the Family House before finding an apartment. We took a small bus that did not smell good. A combination of B.O., urine, and something else I'd rather not identify. Kind of sad how quickly you get used to it, though. Anyway, our first stop was Moray, ruins left from an Incan agriculture experiment. We had to do a lot of bargaining with the taxi driver to wait for us for 50 minutes instead of 40. He acted like the extra 10 minutes was a huge sacrifice. I didn't really trust the guy. The scenery on the way to, and at the ruins, was absolutely beautiful. It just seemed surreal. I couldn't quite believe I was there. (The pictures just don't do it justice.) From up above, the Incan terraces just looked like really big circles, but once we got inside, we realized just how deep they are. We definitely realized how deep they are while hiking back up at an altitude higher than Cusco. I'm not really a runner, but I'm pretty sure I could run several miles without feeling that winded and out of breath. Then I see the tiny old ladies with bare feet, hunched over from the weight of their enormous packs on their backs, not even breaking a sweat. Altitude is humbling.

On the way to our next stop, the taxi driver that I didn't trust offered to play us some American music. For some reason, in my wildest dreams, while I was driving through the Peruvian countryside, UB40's Red Red Wine wasn't playing in the background.

Our next stop was Salinas, which are salt mines. You would think salt mines wouldn't be all that interesting, but you would be wrong. It looked like such alien landscape, like something out of Star Wars (none that I've ever really seen that either.) The salt is used for cattle licks, I think. Amy, could you explain why cows need salty licks?

When we were done with the salt mines, we walked to the nearest town to catch a bus to the town where we needed to catch a bus back to Cusco (got that?) but when we asked some locals where to catch the bus, they offered to take us in the back of their truck. So we did. (I'd say not to tell my parents, but the last I checked, they could read English pretty well, so I'm sure I'll be hearing about it soon.) We went over the fundamentals of the tuck and roll, just in case they were kidnappers, but they were just really friendly people. They dropped us right off in front of the bus station, and with that, I had my first South American hitching experience. We stopped for lunch before boarding the bus, and I'm still not sure what kind of meat I ate. Our 7-year-old waiter told us it was cow (I think), but if that's the case, it's a cut of beef I've never tasted before. I think I'll feel better if I think of it as alpaca meat. I'd rather think I ate alpaca than the leftover parts of a cow.