Time to play catch-up. Mmm ketchup. High on the list of "things I miss about Canada" Likely number 2. I’m writing from Otuzco, Peru in the Andes. Came from Huaraz, Peru last week. Huaraz may be my favourite place in Peru so far. It’s a town nestled at the base of a major mountain range called the Cordillera Blanco. It’s absolutely stunning. It’s the rainy season right now, so every morning is warm and sunny (and really easy to burn at 3000mts) and then the temperature drops and it turns pretty darn-tootin cold in the afternoon and evening. I later understood the need for 8 blankets on my bed (literally) and the value of triple-socking. Thank goodness I have three pairs of socks.
It’s surrounded by the east by the Cordillera Blanca (permanent white snowcaps and glaciers) and on the west by the Cordillera Negra (no permanent snowcapped peaks or glaciers, hence black… racist?). The Cordillera Blanca includes Huascaran the highest mountain in Peru at 6,768 metres (22,205 ft) and the third highest in the Western Hemisphere. (thankyou Wikipedia, well put).
Huaraz is known as the 'Switzerland of the South' because of its beautiful peaks that are visible from the city centre. The women where colour pink and purple Andean shalls, ancient women carrying their grandchildren in their shoulder slings, or going to market with a bag of vegetables and herbs. They were very tall hats and when it rains, place plastic bags over top. Luckily plastic is an ancient material and so they’ve been doing it this way for millennia. So not authentic, I want my money back.
No, it’s lovely really, they sit on the sidewalks together, knitting everything imaginable, giggling away with three-teeth smiles or shouting a friendly GRINGITA (young female white American)! as I pass. I’ve yet to figure out just what constitutes a gringo, or gringa. My impression is that if you’re white and not Asian, you’re a gringo/gringa. If you’re Asian, you’re Chino. Doesn't seem to be much else in between those two categories. Even that line is blurred… a lady at the pharmacy helped me buy shampoo once in Ecuador. Got home and realized I had shampoo for Asian hair.
There are fruit and juice stands on just about every corner. Sometimes people stand in the central plaza preaching from speakerphones while everyone ignores them. Also, they’ve yet to discover the value of a diversified economy and competition. And so, if you need cheese there will be 8 vendors in a line, one beside another selling the exact same product, for the exact same price. Not sure how the cheese sellers in the middle get any business or how they don’t strangle each other with envy. It’s pleasant really. And painfully frustrating when you need something specific and you know, somewhere in the city, there’s a row of 8 people selling that very item.
One funny thing about this city is that the taxis and collectivos (taxis crammed with as many people as possible) drive around honking insistently at people. One time four in a row drove past all honking at me, as if when I hadn’t taken the first three, I would decide to take the fourth. Turns out people are just that indecisive and decide to get in only once the driver has almost run over their feet and opened the door on top of them. Mystery solved.
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