Hi All!
My turn to write.. we left the bustling city of Lima on a tour bus headed north for Huarez, Peru, and the Cordillera Blanca. This is the second highest mountain range in the world, second only to the Himalayas. What you imagine when you read that sentence-what your mind paints for you-that's what this is. That's what surrounds us 360 degrees. The Rockies are but a distant memory!
So the 7 hr. bus ride here was surreal, a big bus on a small, windy mountain road where bus meets semi truck on hairpin curves and only the strongest survive! I breathe deep and chew my gum...(mom-totally kidding, that last part.) Anyway, all that said, we are safe and happy in the mountain city of Huarez, pop. 80,000.
Without a novel, it's hard to condense all of the adventures we've already had into a blog entry.
I will begin by humbly admitting that never in my life have I seen anything like the Lima we saw on our expensive tour bus exiting the city. Marc & I had the privlidge of staying in an area of the city called Miraflores. It was the "safe" part of the city. Needless to say, when we left the safety zone, my eyes were wide open and I was dumbfounded. I saw the city-the real Lima. The families, faces, people-the LIFE of Lima. The buildings were what the privlidged in the United States may refer to as squallor. Buildings were caked with the thick black residue of too much traffic and not enough rain, as the gray cloud of exhaust hung low in the air, making it hard to breathe. Dirt roads led in & out of neighborhoods with bars on every window and door. Women did their laundry in gutters along the highway, and lines of clothes of every color hung from lines on rooftops. I expected people to appear miserable! But that's just it-these people who live in these colorful buildings were happy, walking to the market, waiting for a bus, laughing and talking with friends & family. Marc & I were really moved.
We now find ourselves after a full day in Huarez thankful for seeing it and ready to move on. Today for the first time we witnessed the absence of the USDA; whole, plucked dead chickens, flies optional, strung up on clotheslines by their necks during mid day sun in markets ready to sell.
The people. I have seen Peruvian women with long, black braids and beautiful lines etched into their aged faces each line telling a different story. They wear fedora hats and beautiful full skirts, with shirts and shawls of every color of the rainbow. I will say too that so far it has been impossible for me to find a child in this country that is not beautiful. Thick black hair and huge brown eyes, each one I want to hold, but they all seem to be afraid, if not completely baffled by me. Marc, on the other hand, is another story. They look at with complete adoration and big smiles, laughter, the older children calling out to him, "hola!" They are so excited to see if this big one will talk. They are thrilled when he answers them. I should be so lucky.
Goodnight from Huarez,
Jess