Anger is a gift
Our return to the regimented working week was marked by the addition of three new arrivals: Polly, Kitty and Rachel. Their introduction to digging brought the camp some excitement, with us old hats simultaneously working, singing and dancing to a Queen medley.
However, our high spirits were not to last. Spreading illnesses and general lethargy made for a steep decline in motivation. I had hardly made it to Monday night before my dissatisfaction became so palpable that a long cards-and-bitch session with Jim yielded one very attractive proposition - to remain in South America after our volunteer placement for a much-needed hit of genuinely independent travel.
Considerations of family, friends, my job, and my last semester of University studies had of course crossed my mind, but no amount of self-discouragement would tear me from the idea of staying on. With the time constraints of quitting my job with two weeks notice in mind, Jim and I headed back into Cusco on Tuesday afternoon to research our options.
By Tuesday evening, I had garnered the rather surprising support of the people who mattered at home, and obtained concessions from my course coordinator at University to graduate in June. Everything was good to go but our air tickets, and freedom was so close I could almost taste it.
Defeat was not an option, even when a half-hour phone call to LAN airline on Tuesday night proved unsuccessful in finding us tickets home. We sought out our old favourite hostel, Casa de la Gringa 2, and stayed the night with a mixture of disappointment, hope and dread for a potential letdown at LAN's Cusco office the next morning.
I was so happy I could have screamed when we emerged from LAN's office with successfully changed tickets in hand. We had, quite literally, bought ourselves an additional 3 months on our trip, only to return to Australia on November 4th - just in time for summer!
We returned to Umanes with no less than six bottles of celebratory sparkling wine for an evening of shared joy. First came the usual shifts of teaching and digging, however, then a surprise birthday party for four-year-old Lisbet, which involved some very good cake, the sprinkling of yellow confetti in our hair, and much folk singing by the birthday girl's father and our hostess, Asunta.
Thursday was as mundane as always, so I was immensely grateful for a day off from digging and teaching on Friday, which happened to be Peru's independence day. After somewhat of a sleep-in, the group headed to our neighbouring village of Chincherro to take part in the area's festivities. I was quite excited by the funfair-like atmosphere, complete with marching band, suited-up parade, and little food stalls littering the field. Less exciting (and more embarrassing) were the soccer games us volunteers played against a few local teams later that afternoon.
Annoyingly, the village's drunken festivities meant that we had some trouble finding taxis to take us to Cusco that evening. When we did finally make it back, a group of us girls somehow managed to convince Joel to hit the town with make-up on. An excellent night ensued, involving gin and tonics with Harriet, Cuba Libres, and quite a number of free shots from amorous randoms.
In the jungle
Suffered through a rather painful bus ride to the Manu National Park, which lies at the edge of the Amazon rainforest. Slept through a bulk of the stops, awaking only for lunch and to arrive at our rather basic jungle lodge. Far from my expectations of a relaxing mid-project break, there were no en suites, and no electricity except from the hours of 6 - 9pm.
Struggled to get to sleep after the lights went out on the first night, owing to some rather large moths in the room I shared with Nikki. Thankfully she seemed to handle our six-legged roommates a lot better than I, especially since the boys in the room next to ours were definitely no help with their cruel, hysterical giggling. Resorted to using hairpins to patch all holes in the lodge's mosquito net and sleeping with a hat over my eyes, praying for the best.
Was surprised to find most people keen to go on a mountain biking excursion the next day, despite the tour guides' warning that it was recommended for experienced riders only. Stuck to my cowardly guns and skipped out on mountain biking - a decision that led to one of my best experiences in Peru - riding through the jungle on the roof of a bus with Jim, Sarah and Bill. Joy!
Tried my arm at white water rafting later that afternoon. Rather, I tried to try, as our rafting guide confiscated my paddle almost immediately, took my spot on the raft, and had me sit at the helm doing nothing at all. This put me in a rather precarious position in front of and between Jim and Joel, who grabbed me from each side and threw me into the river not once, but twice!
Missed out on a spot in a motor boat to our next lodge, which meant another half hour or so rafting with our guide, Joel, Jim and two American girls. This time, I actually had to pull my weight, and even had a brief shot at navigating! Had a swim in the muddy river upon arrival, and consequently was last to claim a room. I eventually got allocated a room of my very own, which under normal circumstances would have had me jumping for joy, but not so in a bug-infested jungle lodge. Begged the boys to swap in to ward off evils - and still couldn't get any sleep!
Missed a 5am jungle walk the next morning owing to a severe lack of sleep. The jungle is really having me miss the comforts of home - I have never missed my bug-free, chilled-out haven as much as I have during the past three days in the rainforest.
Spent the afternoon walking along nature trails, as well as taking what was termed a "canopy walk", but later turned out to be a string of flying-fox rides, and eventually, abseiling about 100 metres down and out of the tree-tops. Not so good with my fear of heights!
Awoke as late as possible the next day for a motor boat ride out of the area, during which spacious seating arrangements, ample sunlight, vibrant views of the rainforest, and the most apt music I could possible conjure made for an excellent half-hour. Less excellent was the uncomfortable ten-hour journey back to Cusco in a cramped little excuse for a bus, as well as Joel's sudden onset of a horrible illness, which we suspect could be due food allergies of which our tour operators were well aware. Not happy, Jan!
Say my name, say my name
I awoke with a combination of excitement, dread and sleepiness on Sunday morning, as a group of us volunteers headed out to the Sacred Valley for an attempt at paragliding. Take-offs were organised by passenger size, from smallest to largest person, which meant that I had to endure watching a fair few of the other girls getting strapped into the flimsy-looking contraption and run right off a cliff's edge. Needless to say, when my turn came, I took off with eyes tightly shut and mouth agape in a terrified shriek.
Once airborne, however, the experience was not quite as frightening as one might expect. There was some comfort to be had in a body-hugging paragliding seat with the pilot strapped firmly behind. And as the ground dropped away as we ascended on a thermal, so too did my fearful sensibilities, until all I was left with was the most sublime sense of relaxation and freedom.
We began the working week with high hopes of completing our little trench by the mid-project break that would begin on Wednesday afternoon. Joel, Jim and I even did a double shift of digging on Tuesday in view of starting the break early and enjoying a dig-free Wednesday.
Meanwhile, back at the village school, the children have learned my name and are definitely not afraid to use it. I am now greeted each afternoon with cries of "Lisbet! Lisbet!" that echo purposelessly, yet continuously, throughout the hour. Unfortunately for me, Joel and Jim quickly picked up on my annoyance at the calls, which means I am now awoken by their imitations at every opportunity.
Left Umanes for Cusco on Wednesday afternoon in relative comfort - only seven people were allocated to my taxi this time, with Bill in the front seat, our cook Irene in the boot, and her daughter baby Lisbet in the back with Jim, Harriet and I. We began our hard-earned mid-project break with a celebratory steak dinner at Fallen Angel, before hitting up the usual clubs for crazed dancing. Returned to the hostel at 5am - just in time for our 5.40am tour to the jungle!
Can you take me higher
A Sunday of waiting preceeded yet another week at Umanes. Had great intentions of calling home for my mom's 53rd birthday, but a lack of technology would have meant a 50 minute walk to the nearest public phone in the town of Chincherro, and a terribly difficult day of digging had me crying for sleep by lunchtime.
Sarah, a co-volunteer, has aptly described our living conditions as "Big Brother"-esque - we have our over-crowded living quarters, a miniscule dining room, and subsequently, not much privacy of which to speak. Optimistic. Our neighbouring village of Madventurer volunteers seem to be rather worse off though - when we met them on Wednesday, they described even more cramped living quarters, no hot showers, and long drops instead of our luxurious flush toilets.
By Thursday night, I was craving the weekend for a much-needed dose of capitalist options, Internet, and telephone time. Digging has always been challenging, but teaching is quickly climbing the unhappiness scale, as teacher strikes at the school have been making attendance difficult and schoolchildren rowdy.
Crammed 10 people including myself, Jim, Harriet, Bill, our cook Irene, her daughters Lisbet and Veronica, and a driver, into a taxi on Friday afternoon, and reached Cusco just in time for our group's "M"-themed pub crawl, which consisted of the usual Gringo-frequented clubs - Up Town, Mythology, Mystique, and Extreme.
Saturday was spent with Casa de la Gringa's local Shaman, who took us to the gates of heaven and back. Many a hippy revelation was had with Joel giggling, Jim talking non-stop, and myself spaced out. Loop. For twelve hours. Beautiful.
Sleepless beginnings
A late night on the town gave cause for us three to completely miss our 4am wake-up call, and consequently be forced to a five minute pack-and-go upon the 4.45am arrival of our airport transfer. Checked into our flight grumpily, and remained so until arriving at the Loki hostel and enjoying a nice, long nap.
Met our fellow volunteers as they trickled into our 10-person dorm from various parts of Britain. Our crew leader, Dick, led a promisingly laid-back bunch of volunteers to a
Madventurer-sponsored welcome dinner, which paved the way to a night in at the Loki bar for Jim, Joel and I, and a bit of rest and recovery for the Brits.
We were greeted the next morning by a half-hour minibus ride, taking us to what would be our home for the next five weeks. Accommodations in the rural village of Umanes B are basic; more so for the 8 girls, who shared a minuscule room of bunk beds, than for the 3 boys in a similar-sized room with single beds. Sleeping arrangements are particularly torturous for my night-loving habits, which don't often agree with the morning giggling sessions apparently enjoyed by my room-mates.
Our first few sessions of digging seemed harder on the others than on me, mostly owing to my inability to wield a pickaxe. Visited the school too, which was rather exciting for the enthusiasm of our students-to-be. Through Dick's random lottery system, Jim and I were allocated to the third graders alongside an English girl, Nikki. I guess that's one of the four Umanes B classes that won't be learning to speak English with British accents!
My pickaxing abilities increased slowly through the week, as did my Spanish vocabulary, as we went through the Spanish-English translations of colours, animals and household terms with our bright-eyed pupils. And so began the Umanes routine - digging in the mornings, teaching in the afternoons, and talking over card games in the evenings. Owing to a horrid inability to sleep in the nights and my hatred for morning chatter, my schedule would be interspersed with siestas before and after most activities, earning me the nickname of "Laaaaaaazy Lizzy" from Dick. Waking up to that exultation can be so painful. Really.
We were three days into our project when Jim's health took a mysterious turn for the worse. Us two headed back into Cusco late Thursday night to find that all was not well, resulting in a hostel visit from too reassuring a doctor. An in-room intravenous drip gave us both cause to panic ... while making for a couple of good photos, of course.
The weekend was spent relaxing with food, drink and shopping; bought a Charrango, which is a folk mini-guitar-type instrument that is bound to provide me some entertainment during the next 4 weeks of sleepless nights. Visited a nightclub called Mythology, where free drinks were offered up by an awesome bar girl. Less awesome were her many invitations to get up and dance on the bar. How about no, Scott!
We like to party
Yet another uncomfortably long bus ride took us across the international border between Peru and Bolivia, where Joel, Jim and I were oddly the only persons to be randomly searched for drugs and fake currency. Predictably, much bantering as to which of us most resembled a hippy drug addict ensued.
Cobblestoned streets greeted us in the sprawling Bolivian capital of La Paz, making for a rather painful bus ride, but we did finally get to our Hotel Gallario intact. Had just about the best night of the entire trip following a tour group dinner at Mexican restaurant cum nightclub, Mongos, where I serendipitously met a couple of British metal heads, both of whom tried their hardest to have me fall in love with one, and head over to another bar called Vivian's - an apparent La Paz must-see.
Met some local Bolivians not long after - a stoner hippy named Alex and his French friends Coco and a dude Jim and I have dubbed "Serious French Guy" for want of a truer name. The three were friendly though immensely upper class; at some point, Serious French Guy seriously explained how his and Alex's families would have owned all of Bolivia if not for "the peasants taking our land". And all this discussed in a local pub they led us to, where Argentian patrons serenaded others with what were obvious local classics on the guitar.
Games involving dice and alcohol led to a rather late night and subsequent sleep-in. Chose not to join the rest of the tour group on the "Death Road" in favour of staying alive, and headed to the Hard Rock Cafe instead, where Jim and I enjoyed a ridiculously good meal for a ridiculously low price!
The herd returned for an excellent final dinner at a fusion Asian restaurant, afterwhich I was surprised to find no one keen on a final night out. There was no deterring Jim, however, who led an expedition of Ricardo and myself to the infamous Vivian's, where we met a cat named Lucifer, amongst other things.
We left Bolivia, and remaining members of the group, in an early morning taxi with Ricardo, who had kindly offered to accompany us as far as he could, being headed to Arequipa himself. Once across the border and in Puno, however, we learned of an unforeseen road strike blocking our route to Cusco. Thankfully, Ricardo was able to fix all, booking us onto the next best flights via Arequipa. The detour allowed a nostalgic return to our favourite Mexican restaurant, and back to the Deja Vu nightclub.
This time, Joel left his camera and other valuables at home.
