O-tuz-Company

Well, it's that time again. Time to pack the human-size backpack, trim the nose hairs and shine the boots. Back on the dusty (and roadblocked trail). There's a protest by informal miners against government policies which make their activities illegal. Thousands of them have closed down highways across the country, in this case 3 km of the highway to Trujillo. Early start to maneuver our way through the burning tires, tear gas and dead bodies. No it's totally peaceful. But does requiring going by foot. Going with my great pal Myra, she's from Trujillo, I assume she navigates protests daily.

This week and a half in Otuzco has been fantastic. I lived in a centre with a pastoral team that does outreach trips to rural mountainous communities. Ate some great traditional (and belly-exploding meals with them, lomo saltado and rice, gallina de pollo and rice, rice and rice. It was fantastic when one of the gal's mother came to stay and cooked every day. Mmm fresh fish from the coast deep fried, 'chicharron de pescado.' Lovely people... and the best part? Washing clothes on the fourth floor terrance, looking over the town nestled all cozy-like in the valley. Had a great hike to a look-out, and as per usual, was passed by Peruvian children wearing flip flops, jogging. They stopped to advise me that I was going the wrong way. I pretended I was taking a break to look at the view, really I just couldn't breathe. Fooled them. Humbled + Lung Pain = The Andean Hiking Effect.

Second best part? Discovering the lady who sells deep fried potato balls with green onion Ahi (spicy sauce) on the street for only 10 centimos each. That's like 3.8 cents a piece. Visited her every day. She laughed every time I approached... never figured out why, so I took it as a compliment and laughed along.

Beautiful Myra and me at ancient ruins in Trujillo -"Huaca del sol y de la luna."

I worked with and organization that monitors water quality in three rivers near Barrick's gold mine 100 km away. Just three fantastic men, in a cold office and the same 13 songs on the radio. The country only allows 13 songs to be released at any given time. That's my impression. We had wine breaks, Americanos in the afternoon and 3 hour lunch siestas for napping. If that's not class, nothing is. But Alas, my feet are itchin with anticipation for the next thing.... or maybe it's a fungus. Either way, on to Lima to pick up my gal-pal Danielle and then to Cusco (21 hours by bus) While long and completely butt-numbing, I still look forward to the bus rides.

The buses are great here, double deckers with bed-seats below that recline a lot and normal lower-class seats above. I always go for the front of the upper level, called the panoramica because of the great view you get. And the endless flashing of headlights. Worth it though, gives me some element of control like I could run to the back of the bus if I saw an accident evolving.

Which brings me to another amazing thing about Peruvians. It seems they are born superior for bus travel. You can always spot a non-Peruvian on a bus. They will, like me, be shifting uncomfortably, looking worried about the urine-only bathroom rule, (WHY?), adjusting the curtains aimlessly and snapping awake in a panic that their bag has been stolen. They will also, somehow, be the only people that get up the use the washroom on an 18 hour bus ride. Incredible. The Peruvians will be sleeping as soon as the food service is complete. Through the loudest, poorly-chosen,10-year old film dubbed over in Spanish, through 5 hour mountain turns that make amusement parks seem lame.... even with multiple kids sleeping on their bellies. They're just more advanced this way. I'm in training actually. Hoping to hit the one-full-hour of sleep mark before I leave in June. I've reached about 17 minutes so far. These things take time.

Morning Colours. 

Lovely Otuzco

The largest avocados the world has ever produced. 

Ronal y yo