So here I am, sitting in a lonely internet café in a
city scratching the sky. It has been 4 days since my arrival in strange
beautiful place, and it has been a 4 days like no other.
Allow me to start from the beginning, After almost 24
hours travel time I touched down into Cusco itself, after a shaky start
thinking I had missed my airport transfer I was saved by the giant cuddly bear
that is Jeremy. Jeremy is the man who runs both the orphanges that I am
volunteering in, he is a kind man who speaks excellent English. Standing at
around 6 and a half foot a least he is tall for the local people, who having
lived high up for so long that they have never really grown very high. Having been saved from my
terrified thoughts of being lost in a city I had never been to before Jeremy
took me for a quick tour, showing the face of Cusco. The city is a blend of
colonial style buildings, Incan foundations and a more modern building style
giving the city itself a strange feel of not being quite finished. In fact
there are so many buildings under construction that I would be amazed if this
city were ever truly finished like our western equivalents.
Following the main highways I saw the after effects of
the first weekend of carnival, people walking around soaked to the skin due to
the tradition that in the run up to easter water fights are held across the
city, with a majority of people descending upon the citys main square the Plaze
De Armas. A beautiful square at the heart of the city, it is dominated by the
cathedral on one side. The other sides are fronted with colonial colonades,
giving some much needed shelter when the rain comes down hard. Within the
colonades are a myruad of bars and restaurants. Serving local delicacies such
as Alpaca a particularly strange food that tastes very much like venison. While
still waiting to try a guinea pig which comes roasted whole (head included,
which breaks my rule of never eat something which can wink back) I have had the
chance to try two of the local drinks, the first being Inca Cola. A soft drink
much like cream soda, and the second being the local cocktail the “Pisco sour”
made from pisco (a gin analogue) egg whites, lime juice and occasionally
cinnamon. It is an alien, bitter drink which some how makes you want to have
another.
As well as sampling the culture of the “naval of the
world” I have been spending most of my time with the children of the Elim. The
company running the Orphange, hidden in a small walkway off an unremarkable
side road, the building gives little away. A mask of cracking paint, uncovered
breeze blocks and rusting iron gates hides a completely different world. The
children who live in the house are not allowed out often, and so they have created
their own little world inside. A large main play room used for arts and crafts,
music, dancing and the occasional paint fight is where the girls spend most of
their days, with the other volunteers and I playing with them, helping them
with some school work or initiating the aforementioned paint war.
The girls are a range of ages, the youngest is an
amazingly cute girl called Selema, a street child whose age we do not know,
before writing this I had just spent an hour making animal noises for her while
reading a childrens book, let me tell you making the noise of a hippo is not
easy, but the pain it causes as you almost hawk up your own lungs, becomes
irrelevant when you see her smile and hear her life. Along with Selema, there
is Patricia who I am sure you could use to power a city the amount of energy
she has. The elder girls are just as much fun, if not sometimes aggressively so,
I still have the bruises from a joint pinch under the ribs from Blanca and
Lisbeth, two girls around 15 who never seem to stop enjoying calling us ugly,
smelly or just hurting us. In fact it was these two and I who initiated last
nights paint war, the marks of which I proudly wore on a night out to the Plaza
de Armas.
On the other side of town lies the boys orphanage, a
much larger building. So far I have only spent 1 day over there as getting
there is difficult to say the least. But the one day I have spent there involved
making pancakes for shrove Tuesday for them. Having enjoyed their treat the
boys took us to the local park, where myself and another volunteer Ed thought
it would be a good idea to play some basketball with the boys. A rather silly
mistake on our part, the altitude (a cosy 3800 meters) makes everything more
difficult, even the simple act of climbing stairs makes the fittest amongst our
group (an ex-copper) out of breath by the top. With that in mind I am sure you
can imagine what running like mad for 20 minutes did to us.
All in all an amazing start, sorry no pics yet, have
taken loads but forgot my camera. I hope all of you at home are well and best
of luck in everything you do.
Thanks for reading, will try to post some pics in the
next couple of days, and another full post in about a week.
Much love xx
