ultimos dias.....

Dejamos Yanama por la mañana (esto medio que rima). Dejamos también su niebla por detrás nuestro. Frío
mañanero, también este frío y esta niebla serán las últimas de este viaje. Todo empieza a tomar ese saborcito: el agridulce sabor de saber que se va acabando la caminata, el paseo, el viaje.

Y el camino va de subida, por entre cascadas que no miran del flanco derecho. Si bien la neblina de Yanama queda atrás, una constante corona de nubes esconde los picos de la montañas, pero de cuando a cuando, cuando una de esas nubes deja de prestar atención y deja de hacer su trabajo encubridor, y el pico nevado puede asomar la cabeza, nos muestra este su melena y nos deja saber que tan cerca del cielo en realidad nos encontramos.

Luego, el paso. Y el ultimo cambio se ve: el contrate del marrón con el verde: el cambio de montaña a selva.

Luego del paso, todo es cuesta abajo. Días largos sin ver a nadie por días ya quedan atrás. Ahora se recorren distancias por entre lugares poblados, más modernos y (no sé si decir desgraciadamente) más comerciales.

El fin esta cerca. A la vuelta de un cerro vemos a Macchu Picchu en lo alto. Desafiándonos. Invitándonos. Esperándonos......

El cierre de este nuestro viaje será sobre una desayuno de fruta en la ciudad Imperial.

Por entre nubes

Hoy se cruza la montaña. Hoy hará frío. Hoy se parte tarde.

Esperando el sol rompa por entre las nubes, nos dan las 9, pero este cielo nublado no se moverá hoy. Cada vez más alto, cada vez más húmedo, cada vez más verde, cada vez más selva.  Mas arriba poco se ve, un gris todo encubre.

Una belleza singular, enigmática casi.

Blanco blanco. Subiendo hasta el abra pareciera que fuera niebla, pero una vez que se cruza el pase y se le dá cara a la montaña, se les ve como son: nubes. Una tras una y, al igual que nosotros, cruzando la montaña, buscando un clima más cálido, agarraditas de la mano, o sería de rabo a cabo, agarraditas de cola a trompa cual elefantitos; se encojen/agachan/esfuerzan por entrar por el pase… despedazándose en el intento a veces.

Las que logran pasar siguen nuestros pasos: cruzan en lo alto y luego descienden hasta confundirse con vapor de rio.

Yanama, escondido por la espesura de esta pared gris, nos aguarda allí abajo. Otro día de camino….

Un camino por entre rabo de nubes, un camino que sin saber más de lo que nosotros sabemos, nos da a ratos lo que no sabemos estamos pidiendo....

colores

Sentado aquí me imagino una línea imaginaria, una línea que el Apurimac dibujase, la línea de la ceja de Selva: a mi derecha, cerros altos, áridos y marrones parecen casi envidiar a los aún mas altos de delante mío, verdes, frondosos, con cascadas azules que los surcan….

Y siguiendo esos ríos, tratando de hacer un trazo siguiendo el hilo azul, trazándolo hasta su inicio. El hilo azul que por entre el verde se escabulle y por poco se escapa. Mas soy testarudo, sigo al azul, azul cada vez más alto, alto, alto, hasta alcanzar una pared blanca me impide seguir viéndolo. Es un muro de nubes blancas que lo esconden de los demás colores, nube blanca tras nube blanca van escondiendo todos los colores detrás de ellas, pero por entre blanco de nube, cuando todo parece igual, un blanco distinto aparece: la cumbre del nevado….

 
Pasan rápido estos colores. El verde, el azul y el blanco de mi lado los veo verse envolviendo en la oscuridad, en la ausencia de color, pierden su tonalidad, sus brillos, su todo, hasta que, envueltos en la sombra de sus propios picos, se vuelven negros. Y aquel marrón envidioso de al lado, cambia su tono opaco, marrón parco por un rojo cobrizo. Primero media montana, luego un poco menos, y luego aun menos. El sabe la oscuridad también lo acogerá, pero le saca brillo a sus últimos segundos encendiéndose con toda su fuerza.

Y cuando la oscuridad todo envuelve, poco dura, todo cambia. Un mar de estrellas, de a una por una, se van prendiendo, apareciendo para iluminar aquel cielo oscuro. 1, 2, 3,…. 54, 876 estrellas. Me olvido donde estoy y me pongo con ellas a bailar. Y en la emoción del baile, una por una se me desaparecen. Un momento me inquieta pero luego y en un instante, se ve por que. El Cielo azul oscuro se vuelve en un azul claro. Más claro aun al ver a la luna salir.Una inmensa luna llena que ilumine, una vez mas, mi caminar... 

Blanca señora

Paucar III

with the Virgen Camuchita safe and sound now at home, the goodbye party begins: collas, negros, wacas, panaderos, maqtas (aaa the maqtas) all running and joking around, showing their love and devotion on a 4 hr display

but in the midst of the celebration, a drunken colla makes a pass at a Chuncho lady and the fight begins: chuncho against colla, colla against chuncho, demons picking up the dead, doctorcitos trying to alliviate the problem and maqtas making things worse...

a guerrilla war that will end up with the death of the Colla Caporal, the return of the Chuncho Lady and Collas and Demons now in the avern together enjoying some chicha :)

a very special way to end a special celebration....


till next one Paucartambo...

Paucar II

y la programación lee:
romería al cementerio general y visita a los que se nos adelantaron en el camino...
bello..
y a las 9 asi es, una ceremoniosa muestra de respeto de cada una de las danzas a los ya idos de la cuadrilla

mas al mediodía esto es una fiesta general: bombos, platillos y trompetas son incapaces todos unidos de opacar las risas y el conversar de los invitados, de aquella multitud ahí presente: el cementerio se vuelve el punto de reunión para generaciones de Paucartambinos, danzantes, amigos y visitantes todos, todos ahi alrededor de un par de chelitas, un chichita, una bandita, o dos, una llamita borracha...

respeto no sé, pero amor, definitivamente.....

Paucar I

 3 years later and little has changed.
 El fervor y la piedad siempre presentes, aun con los ciento y pico de turistas merodeando la ciudad con sus US1500 cámaras....


Collas still coming down from the Altiplano (Puno) to pay homage to the virgen...
Maqtas still raising havoc everywhere they go...

Chunchos walking kms after kms and traversing  the jungle just to see the "woman" they fell in love with...

 The wacas and their bull, happy as always...

the Danzaqs trying to enchant more young ladies, older ladies, widowers, teenagers etc etc ;)

and the always present demonios, here to revere Camuchita, to give her their love, just to see her even if from the distance....

Q´eswachaka

A trip I´ve long too long to do...
Q´eswachaka. The festival of the reconstruction of the Inka bridge over the Apurimac River.

It takes a litlle bit over a day of traveling: a regional bus, a local bus, another bus, and finally a combi that agrees to pick me up do the trick. And with all these help, I can make it a day earlier to the site. I say the site because I didnt know what I would find and it turns out there was nothing much to be found...
Its awfully quiet.  The walk down to the river basin lets me enjoy the panorama. Just green and brown, no houses around. Just the ones where the combi dropped us off at the end of the road and then the 5 lonesome ones by the basin. It's their smoke that lets me know there is some life in the area, other than, that there is nothing: no sound at all.Almost a deadlike feeling to the place. There is a small hotel that is being constructed. Its getting dark so the guard lets me sleep in one of the areas where the floor is almost finished, no roof though...
.... 8pm makes dark,  and then 7 makes light. Bright and early the sun arrives, and with it, a non-stop march of people coming to reconstruct the bridge. I figured out later that noone lives here as the 5 communities this bridge serves are atop the mountains sorrounding it. Descending from the 4 corners, I figure them coming from the 4 suyos to build history again.
On his back each comunero (who has walks of up to 4 hours to get here) brings 40mt of hay braided rope. Hay.  They will use it to make the new bridge. A bit of that together we are stronger feeling....

Day one. First: roll call, we take all these braided ropes and put them together to make some thicker ones, and then these together to make some even thicker. Thick and strong enough to stand the weight and the weather....

Incesantly pulling all day: the ropes have to be tight, otherwise they will lose their strenght. So we pulled and pulled and pulled....

and if day one was a lot of pulling, day two awaits with its fair share as well. But first some distractions are in order, We now have to make the ropes cross the abiss created by the river. (Mainly) older and (definitely) drunk men stand on one side of the abyss, near the edge, and start throwing smaller ropes that will be then used to carry the thicher ones we had braided the day prior. Not an easy task though. It´s about 40mts from edge to edge and given the condition of the "throwers" is borderline impossible. But this is vital part of the festival as well: all around me, people start chattering, picking favourites, even betting on some, discussing the best strategy to be used, etc. It´s a party and they enjoy every minute they can of it. Finally the rope gets across and the thick ropes get carried through. It´s time now to cut down the old bridge :)

Back to pulling again ;)
the ropes must be tense to withstand the weight...400 kgs they will take, just about a man, his llama and his coca ;)
tiring, borderline exhausting but seeing the bridge take shape is more than a reward
and then the third day, truly eye candy, the braiding of the bridge.
The " engineer" comes in, and, in full attire, start walking up and down the rope and the braiding and finishing of the bridge begins. Itll be about 6 hours and 3 pays to the Pachamama (that translates to about 6 bottles of wine, 3 barrels of chicha and plenty beer) before he can finish. The way he moves across the unfinished bridge is astonishing. Like a true magician.

The engineer and his helper braid away skillfully and gracefully for the rest of the afternoon with people celebrating on both sides of the bridge. 5pm comes and, with them finishing, its time for me to go, but I can go with a joyfull though:
Q´eswachaka. Connecting people without technology :D

sorry for the lack of pics, they used no technology whatsoever to build the bridge, so I didnt use mine either, meaning no camera ;)
but i did do a drawing :))

dwelling...

on a rather unthought comment I said last night, I despised tourist guides. Not true of course, but going back as to why i had said it, I now dwell....
I dont hate them, certainly, but do consider them harmful, since they can rob us of a chance. the World, and everything in it: places, costumes and culture, lays right in front of us, waiting to be discovered, all we need to do is pay the right price, and in this case, money is the cheap way out, it´s just too easy, it is but a shortcut that robs us of the joy of the discovery, the understanding and the integrating. This time we need hard currency: our time, our dedication, our love.

Yesterday, i will try this with people as well....

Last trek en Perú

Last two weeks in Peru and I do my last trek from the 2 places im yet to see. 6 days of walking bring me from Choqequiraw to MacchuPicchu. But walking for 6 days, crossing 3 mountain passes (over 4500mts altitude each), fighting snow on the passes and scorching heat on the valleys are no problem when such a beautiful landscape is presented above you. Choquequiraw, a jewel to be yet discovered, thought to be even bigger than MacchuPicchu, made even more impressive by the way you have to take to get here, a 7km walk uphill, 3 hours or so, brings you to the camp, a place to rest and get to enjoy the ruins the next day.magnificent structures laying on mountains, towering valleys, leave you thinking as you walk to your next stop, taking the road they built, how did they do it?




4 more days and two more mountain passes to Machu Picchu, but what a feeling.
A flower. A flower is what it resembles me. Mountains for petals with the ruins as the centre. The walls start appearing as the clouds vanish, emotions get flowing, the centre of an empire was here, the energy is felt, the way its constructed, one can try to imagine the sun hitting the door, the temple and the clock at the same time, one can only imagine the ceremonies, its grandeur, gold lining the walls, the ñustas entertaining the guests... one can only imagine


I leave today for Lima and day after for the US, next one I write will be from the road, will certainly miss the mysticism, the food and the people, be back soon ;)