The crazy men and crazy scam in Nazca, Peru

Okay, so we arrived to Nazca after a 16 hour bus ride. It was quite miserable being in a crammed space for that long, and I am going to do my best to avoid another bus ride in such a journey during my stay in South America. We (me and my new Canadian friend) got off the bus, and we were bombarded by people who wanted to drive us directly to the airport to take a ride in the airplane. I must admit that Peruvian people are the most determined salespeople on the planet. Just forewarning, if you are white, they almost always assume you are a Western tourist on vacation who wants to buy more souvenirs.

In addition to my Canadian friend, I met an Englishman. He decided to join us for the day. He had a background in being self-employed for private security. He obviously had a military background and was not your typical rent-a-cop. My Canadian friend is semi-fluent in Spanish, and so we let him negotiate with the mob of Peruvians seeking some sort of commission for getting us to the airport. We were greeted by one interesting individual named Heyzeus (probably spelled like Jesus in Spanish I would guess) in whom at this point I still believe is full of it, but anyway, all three of us rode in his Path Finder to the airport. It was a small airport with one building with your basic waiting area and two bathrooms. The airstrip was covered only by small planes (for 4 to 8 people), meant to fly with tourists in order to see the Nazca Lines. Heyzeus represented one of the several companies who would willingly take your money for a flight. He said we were free to investigate any of the companies, and if we did not want to fly with his company, we would just compensate him for the ride from the bus station. I still don’t know why, but we went along with his company because he “seemed so nice.”

Heyzeus said we could keep our luggage and backpacks at his friend’s hostel, which just happened to be named Amigo’s House (aka Friend’s House). He told us the hostel was mentioned in Lonely Planet, which I still don’t believe.

Anyway, he offered to take us to three tourist locations (a graveyard, a gold business, and a ceramics business). What he did not mention was that the gold and ceramics business were free to the public to watch the demonstrations. He wanted to charge us fifty sols, which is about seventeen U. S. dollars. If I had ever met a better con artist, he now had the new title as the best one I had ever met. Heyzeus also mentioned some pyramids in the desert; he acted like they were similar to the pyramids found in Egypt. We were fascinated and wanted to see these newly found Incan pyramids. What he failed to mention was that this 23 square kilometer ceremonial center was now covered by millions of pounds of sand. Therefore, you could not see much of the pyramids beyond what the archeologists had already uncovered. He wanted sixty sols (combining for a total of 180 sols with the three of us) to take us out there. After hearing his grand and over-exaggerated explanation, we were more than willing to take the adventure out there.

Heyzeus had a friend named Freddie (probably just a nickname because tourists could not correctly pronounce his real name) who was going to take us out to the pyramids in his grand and mighty Nissan truck. I can still hear him in my head saying, “This is cuatro by cuatro, my friend,” meaning four wheel drive. Again, what he and Heyzeus failed to mention was that the truck had a nearly flat tire and that Freddie was a slower driver than my Grandmother.

We eagerly jumped into the truck only to have Freddie stop three different times at three different gas stations to check the air pressure in the almost flat tire. I wondered if this wonderful machine would actually make it through the desert or leave us stranded under the blazing sun. We finally got to the road that you drive out to the pyramids on. A couple of cars passed us. Now keep in mind this is supposedly a grand, multi-terrain vehicle, and little Daewoo taxis are flying by us on the dirt, bumpy road. Freddie even mentioned, “That guy is so crazy. That guy is so crazy,” referring to the taxi cab driving who left us in the dust. I thought Freddie was crazy for only driving fifteen miles an hour. I know he was worried about the tire, being careful, but the trip took us about three and a half hours to complete the round trip to get back to the airport for our flight over the Nasca Lines. Being a desert, it was naturally extremely hot, and of course, the air conditioning in the truck was broken. Freddie had also mentioned that he would change the tire in three minutes if it needed to be changed. I was beginning to wonder if he was from another planet. He kept calling me “James Bond, 007.” While driving, the key fell into the floor out of the ignition several times, but the truck kept running. I was really hoping this truck with a vivid personality did not leave us walking back in the desert heat.

We thankfully did not get stuck in the desert, and the great pyramids were not really pyramids at all. They were more like big book shelves in the sand. When Freddie tried to give us some background information on them, he said four or five facts over and over and over again, as if he was a college professor in archeology. We were not even allowed to walk up close to the pyramids because much of the terrain was blocked off for the archeological process. Of course, I ran up closer anyway to take some much desired and now costly pictures. Then the equivalent of what you might consider to have the role of a U. S. forest ranger started running up the hills to where I had climbed, screaming and waving his hands. He was really just an old man with flip flop sandals, not exactly what you would think of for protection of sacred pyramids.

It was clear that we were ripped off with no chance of getting our money back. You might say it was worth it to have such a ridiculous story to tell, but I must say that I was a little angry and frustrated. I expressed such feelings to Heyzeus, but he naturally did not care much because I was a tourist and he had our money already.
We went to the airport, shuttled in by our Hummer-like wonder of a vehicle, to take our flight into the sky to see the Nazca Lines. Now I must admit that the Nazca Lines were incredible, but I was somewhat nauseous getting off the plane when we landed because the pilot was swinging from side to side so we could look out the side of the plane to actually see the lines. I felt like were in an air show with trick planes doing stunts through the blue skyline.

By that point, I had my fill of Nazca. In other words, I was ready to leave already. I was tired from an overnight bus ride and being scammed by tourist con artists. I was ready to take the next bus ride to Ica to move on and get a good night’s rest at our hotel, which was located in the middle of a natural oasis in the desert within close proximity to the city of Ica. Nevertheless, we went to the gold and ceramic stores to watch the demonstrations of how these crafts were handmade. It was interesting; I was just not too interested because of my exhausted state of mind. Afterwards, we got on the bus, and that was my crazy day with some crazy people from Ica.

Below you will find a recording of Freddie and my mates in the truck on the way out to the pyramids. After hearing Freddie speak and laugh, you may understand the observations I have written about concerning his unique behaviors, laugh, and way of speaking.

CLICK here for the pure definition of craziness!

Missing home a bit

Today I had this strong feeling of missing home…my crazy dog, my parents, my sissie, some aspects of Auburn, and so forth. I do not know what the reason for this strong feeling was, but I do know that was a very good feeling. It is good to miss something because that means you have something worth missing. So I am not sad because I am having a miraculous experience down here. I am happy to have so many blessings in my life where I actually miss them in my life back in the States.

Indulgence is not necessarily honorable…

This past weekend the city of Cusco was celebrating a festival known as Inca Ramie (spelling?). Therefore we had Monday and Tuesday off from work. I met a Canadian at the volunteer site where I am currently working, and his name is Steven. Steven has a vivid personality with a live-all-I-can attitude before he actually leaves this dusty Earth. While I respect the freedom in such a personality, I myself cannot live for the thrill of a moment. Please do not misunderstand me. I get excited about exciting things, but my happiness does not hinge on the second of that thrill. I seek adventure. I seek fun. But I also seek things that are more concrete and perhaps more permanent, such as relationships with people or spiritual goals and accomplishments. Perhaps I have learned the difficult way that “partying hard” has its thrills in the intoxication of a moment, but when you wake up in the morning sick and vomiting, the next day can be a nightmare. In other words, the party hard life is not worth the costs to me that it has on my body.

We traveled to Nazca (famous for the Nazca lines), Ica (where you can go sand surfing in the middle of the desert), and Paracas (beautiful islands in the ocean where a variety of wildlife live). God spoke to me this past weekend. He reminded me of the man I want to be. I want to live a life that honorably glorifies God. Indulging in sin is temporary, but it is also lucrative and attractive in the pleasures that sin can bring. I witnessed people, including my Canadian mate, drowning in alcohol among other things. I must admit that I was tempted and affected by the environment of indulgence in Wacachinero (a natural Oasis just outside of Ica) where we stayed. It was kind of like a mini Cancun. Being tempted or affected by sin does not excuse the behaviors of sin. Sometimes we, as imperfect humans, need reminders of how to live an honorable life for God. We sin, and God reminds us of His Love and Grace when we approach him for forgiveness.

The trip zapped my energy level. I learned that sitting in a bus for forty hours is not exactly the most invigorating thing. Even though I was just sitting in one place really not doing anything, the experience made me very tired. Even though I was exhausted and even a little sick when I returned from Ica to Cusco, I was content with the trip because God reminded me that being a Christian and perhaps more specifically said, a missionary, necessitates an example to be set. The role of a missionary necessitates discipline to improve the world in a Godly manner. Sometimes indulgence can distract us from our mission (meaning our purpose in life or in my case, the real reasons for my trip). One might say it was a wakeup call to live honorably, to work honorably, to lead honorably, and so forth. We are all missionaries in the general sense of the word. You do not need to travel across the world to play the role of a missionary. Sometimes all you have to do is walk through your city of residence. If your heart is in the right place and if you take a little time to look around, you may be surprised with what you find. A mission of a moment may present itself.

I needed a reminder of God’s Will in my life, and this trip through observing the actions of others made me realize what direction I must now pursue to honor God and to live honorably in the pursuit towards God.

Lessons learned and a touched heart…

As you may have read or not read, I am working at the Cusco Arts Haven. These kids come from all different backgrounds including special disabilities, at-risk homes, and families of low income. I have performed all kinds of tasks, including gardening, cooking, teaching and actively being involved in artwork and English exercises and homework. By the end of this next week, I will have been working here for three weeks. I feel that God is using me here, but sometimes I feel that God teaches me more than I may be teaching other people. My life will be changed after this summer is all well said and done. The Peruvian people and the children have elevated a level of gratefulness I have never attained before. Before this trip, I would often say that I would like to experience a livelihood abroad where things are “simple and less stressful.” What I have come to find out is that things are not so simple in Peru. While there may be less stress in the rush of a normal, routine day, individuals count their pennies here. As a graduate teaching assistant, I do not make a large sum of money, and I probably will not make a middle class income until I finish with my Masters degree at Auburn. But I do not have to worry about the necessities…clothes…food…shelter. From my limited perspective, I would say that some of the kids are probably more concerned with where and when their next meal comes from than doing homework. If this is the case, I could perhaps understand why homework is not the first priority if someone does not eat for several days or if someone has worn the same clothes for thirty days and they are beginning to stink a bit without taking a shower.

This may not be a complete accurate depiction of the children that I work with because I do not know their parents and family situations, but that is not my role as a volunteer who struggles with the basics of Spanish. I still think such situations and descriptions cause us to be thankful for the basics. As Americans, most of us have the basics when many and perhaps most of the world’s population do not.

Like I said before, I would like to believe I am helping these kids, but they may be teaching me by changing and molding my spiritual heart. While working on three different mission projects, some have asked, “Why are you changing projects so often? Why don’t you stay at one project for all six weeks?” When I first started this trip, my basic answer was that I like diversity in the changes of going to different places and working with different people. While this is still true, I have noticed that having exposure to these three mission fields has given me the privilege to experience many different environments. With different experiences, I will learn new lessons in my walk with God, and perhaps in the future, I will have a more solidified field of ministry because I have worked in so many different opportunities. In other words, to discover our passions in servant hood, I believe it is beneficial for people to try several different things. While some might argue in short missions that it is better to experience and stay in one place, I do not necessarily agree with this. Short term missions have the potential to aid individuals in discovering their permanent and perhaps long term location in life. Trying one ministry here and another ministry there gives opportunities for exploration so one may find his or her true passion to change people’s lives for a longer period of time. Staying with one project is not a bad thing, but for those of us who want to experience a few different places, doing so may be better for the individual involved. The amount of mission work you do and where you do rests on where God will have you.

I believe I was called to Cusco to work on these two projects. I remember studying facts briefly about the city of Cusco and my organization, Creative Corners. It just made sense that this is what I wanted to do for a summer in investigating culture and serving others. I could not possibly describe with justice how the confidence formed so quickly to travel here. It was spiritual. It was sure. I read the information, and something inside of me clicked ready to go. And so I am here living my dream and the God-given blessing to be in such a beautiful place.

The results of some bad something…

I think at some point in traveling through strange and unknown places there is a hidden rule that you must get sick because of something you ate or drink or whatever. That is the way I have been feeling for the last couple of days with instantaneous and sporadic phases of using the restroom more than I thought was humanly possible. Even though my stomach has been hurting for many days, I have heard stories of people with worse conditions. One volunteer’s husband had to have emergency surgery on his intestines. I am not sure why, but he is fine now. Apparently, the doctors in Cusco are pretty good. I know several people have spent twelve or even perhaps twenty-four hours vomiting. I guess the truth is that you do have to watch what you eat in a third world country or any place that perhaps looks questionable, which could of course be any restaurant in the world, including the U. S. When I am well again and eating delicious food of all sorts cooked with clean water, I know that I will not take that liberty and freedom for granted again.

New amazements...still being amazed daily....

While on the way back from Manchu Picchu, I was sitting in the coach of a train with a Frenchman and an Argentine. The Frenchman by the name of Timido was backpacking all over South America. He had previously lived in the Caribbean, Spain, London, and was soon moving to New Zealand with his longtime girlfriend. The Argentine was a successful business man from Buenos Aires, and his name was Patrick. It was an interesting conversation about languages and a mix of different cultures.

The Argentine told me he had not spoken English in about six or seven years, but he could still understand everything that I and the Frenchman were discussing. He told me an interesting story about his wife. At one point in their relationship, things were a little more rocky than usual. He did not mention the context of a specific argument, but he said that he had thrown his wedding ring at her only to have asked for it back the next day. I did not get the impression that he was seeking to really depart from the marriage as might be depicted by the symbolic action of actually throwing the ring at his wife. I got the impression it was just something he committed while acting out of emotion instead of logic. He was angry; therefore he did an angry thing. I think that is something we are all guilty of at some point in our lives. Sometime later that year he was in another fight with his wife. For perhaps some of the same reasoning, he threw the ring at her again, except this time she did not give the ring back to him the next day. Her explanation was that she never wanted to feel the same feeling again that she did in the moment of his perhaps inexcusable behavior. This occurred fifteen years ago, and he has yet to receive the ring back from her. This story came about in conversation because I had asked him why he was not wearing a wedding ring. I did so more out of curiosity than just being plain nosy. With some cultures, wearing a ring may not be as popular as the custom has become in our country. Anyway, my curiosity led the telling of this tale in what I would consider a very interesting story.

The story does not just have an ironic humor for me in the fact that the man never got his ring back from his wife. I think it often symbolizes how we react in our impressions of God. While some of us would not consider our rejection as bold as throwing a ring at a spouse, I think some of us probably do such symbolic gestures without even knowing it. That little familiar voice comes into our head asking for our attention or consciously reminding us to do the right thing, and sometimes (whether you choose to believe it or not) we ignore the call that God has for us. We ignore that gentle whisper of a wind only to have our own way and make our own decisions.

I was talking with my father tonight about some of the humbling circumstances since being in South America. I have noticed a lack of knowledge in some of the kids I am working with on a daily basis. Please do not misunderstand my phrasing. I do not think the kids I am working with are by any means unintelligent, but I would consider several of the kids to be behind in terms of academic advancement, especially when they are capable of great things. For reasons unknown to me and perhaps more complicated than I can understand, this has certainly been an observation obvious to me and other volunteers. For instance, one five year girl I have been working with for the past two days has trouble distinguishing from her right or her left and the difference between basic colors. In the small amount of time I have spent with her, she just wants to play and color with crayons instead of learning what I would consider basic childhood common sense. It was an instant gratefulness for the education I have received in the United States. When I was between five and ten years of age, I did not realize how fortunate I was in the foundation that was being set. Several people complain about the educational system in our country, but if those same people came to Peru or Bolivia, they might realize that the educational system in the States is one of the best in the world.

While traveling to Manchu Picchu this past weekend, I met a local who worked in one of the hotels seasonally. His name was Jose (which seems to be a very common name in South America). I was fortunate enough to have an evening conversation with Jose. He was working on his English, and I was surprised by how much Spanish I had learned and/or understood while with him. Of course, I was using my dictionary as much as a remote control when channel surfing when nothing good is on television. Anyway, as he shared his story with me, he informed me that four of his twelve brothers and sisters had died from the measles. I told him that this was a routine shot given to babies in the States. He could not believe that I had the vaccination so early in my childhood, and I could not believe that people were still dying from the measles when in my own ignorance I thought the vaccination was readily available to all persons of the world. Four people in the same family died of the measles! All I could do was express my condolences, but something within me cringed at the thought of how ungrateful I often am when I am living my routine graduate school of an existence in Auburn, Alabama. I felt knots within my intestinal inside parts because I suddenly realized how messed up things are in a messed up world of sin and tragedy. This summer will perhaps be the best of my life, and I guarantee that I will be changed for the betterment of my earthly existence when I return home in August.

Manchu Picchu was one of the most incredible places I have ever visited. I have described some of the trip in more detail in the following podcast. I have also included a clip about the place I am currently volunteering with. I specifically mention details about the wonders I have found in the handiwork of some Peruvians I have had the pleasure of encountering. If you would like, please listen in.

Click here to hear about the precision and amazement of handcrafted Peruvian work.

You have got to see this wonderful place of God's Hand in man's creation of mystery and wonder - Manchu Picchu!

My new home here in Cusco...

While I am in Cusco, I am finding that I love the people and the city here. My host family is absolutely awesome! They have a little boy who is one and half, and he is always getting into trouble. Of course, as a result, I laugh my head off because of his silly behaviors. Of course, the people have distinct personalities apart from Americans. I have noticed that people in South America tend to be thankful with just having a job and a paycheck. It is not necessarily about doing this job or that job. I have not yet heard one person complain about life’s circumstances. It makes me wonder if we, as Americans, should complain as much as we do sometimes. Please realize such a realization also very much applies to me.

Today is a holiday in Cusco. I have vividly described the festival in the attached podcast. It was truly a cultural experience I was thankful for. I was eating some meat that was just delicious. It tasted like salty chicken from Kroger’s. I was thinking, “This would be perfect for tailgating at an Auburn football game. Waldo told me that it was a type of rabbit. When I saw the animal, I noticed it was a rat, not a distinct species of rabbit. Honestly, it did not really affect. I just tried to remember the taste and that thousands of people eat this dish every year in Peru. If it does not hurt them, it will probably not hurt me either, but I must admit it was a huge shock to see that I had eaten a rat. That was my exotic dish of an experience. I just tried to remain cool about the ordeal.

When traveling through the hostels, I sometimes get lonely. Living with a host family has been wonderful because I do not miss my family and friends as much in Alabama. I am becoming immersed in the culture and in this home. Waldo told me today, “This is your home.” I found comfort in the statement because this family barely knows me, but they treat me as their own. They have opened their home, and I feel welcomed as a temporary family member. There was no initiation or enculturation process. I walked through the door, and I was treated like I had been here all along.

Please click below to hear about my first few days here in Cusco.

Enjoy a day in Cusco as if you were living with a host family!