Goodbye Cold, Hello Cali

I had a really pleasant time in Peru, but to be honest, the chilly weather was a nuisance. When I arrived in Colombia the day before yesterday, in the city of Cali, the warm weather hit me and brought an immediate smile to my face. I still have to go out and explore thoroughly, but I have loved what I've seen so far. The feel here is similar to Brazil, in that the people I've met are extremely nice and passionate about laughter and enjoying their lives. I had an incredible smoothie yesterday with strawberries, mango, banana, and papaya (I actually was almost brought to tears because it tasted so good) and on top of that, the lady told me I had a beautiful smile and didn't charge me extra. I also bought some great Colombian music - some Afro-Colombian music which is so lively - and some compilation CDs. The guy played the CDs in the store as some of the people in the hostel and I, as well as some locals, danced a bit. There's this great mall right near where I'm living as well. I'm usually not a fan of malls, but this one was awesome. Parts of it were outdoors and they had a bunch of bars filled with people. Just great...

Above all, I really like how diverse this place is - Colombians really don't have a "look" here, so people are really interested in where I'm coming from. And people smile! They give welcoming looks, rather than judgmental ones, and they help you when they realize you don't speak Spanish fluently. Other than having been offered cocaine in front of the Blockbuster and at a restaurant - Colombia is the cocaine capital of the world obviously (and Cali is the capital of salsa and breast implants) - the sun is shining, my laundry is done, and I am finally rockin some shorts and polos.

Pisco, Paracas, Chincha, Ica, Nazca - A Tour of the South

I just finished a topsy-turvy tour of some towns in the south of Peru that was charming at times, and at others somewhat disturbing. The charming definitely outweighed the disturbing though. What I ended spending a lot of time doing was arguing that I was owed free breakfast. Now, the right to breakfast has felt like my small personal battle as I read in the news at home about the battle over the right to quality healthcare (another passion of mine). Even though breakfast is always just some bread, butter, jam, tea and coffee, when you're owed something, you're owed something. So it's been the principle of the matter rather than me actually looking forward to some amazing meal with croissants, scrambled eggs, bacon, etc. That's what you would think I was fighting for. Needless to say, I won every time, triumphantly eating my buttered bread and happilly gulping town my tea.

Despite the war for breakfast, there are some amazing highlights of my trip as I await the bus back to Lima for a night before moving on to Colombia tomorrow. The trip started with a stop in Pisco, a small town with a bustling center plaza and a really young crowd of revelers. I was surprised by the disastrous effects still apparent from the crazy earthquake in 2007. Roads were still torn up, buildings still crumbled. The government needs to put a move on it! Upon my arrival I met this kid Nilton, a black Peruvian from Pisco who started a tour business (like everyone seems to have) with a group of friends. He spoke really good English, and invited me to come by his office later to chill. After riding around town in these motortaxis or tumbis or whatever they're called (they're basically minicars with the three wheels that fit into the smallest spaces, beep constantly, and go quite fast - it felt like I was in a video game), I had a nice meal and walked through a huge, bustling market. I then went out to see some more ancient ruins at Tambo Colorado. They were cool of course, but after Machu Picchu, nothing can really compare at all. That evening I met up with Nilton and another friend of his at their office, and I spoke with them for hours about the richness of Afro-Peruvian culture, as well as the challenges of being black in Peru - not only facing racism from other groups, but a heightened level of self-loathing within their community. It was an interesting discussion, and we agreed that most black Peruvians stand against marrying other black Peruvians in order to "purify" themselves as he put it, because they didn't know their history. They didn't know about the AfroPeruvians who fought in independence wars and who successfully started their own businesses, slaves who negotiated their freedom and freedmen who started communities. This lost history, and the absence of a unified political movement, means that black Peruvians face a lot of problems. We agreed to keep in touch and keep sharing info, as he thought of starting an organization based on empowerment and education for his community.

After learning so much in Pisco, I moved on to Paracas where I saw the Islas Ballestas, these amazing islands comparable to Galapagos, with awesome, diverse species of birds, and dolphins, and funny sea lions. I also went to the Park Reserve and spent the day with a wonderful group of people from Spain and other parts of Peru. We had a great time together taking in some amazing views, walking along the beach, and watching the sun from clifftops. We also had some baller ceviche for lunch. There was noone else in Paracas that night but a small group of German tourists, so I stayed in the hostel and read for the night. The next day I moved to Chincha, which I was most excited about because of the landmarks dedicated to black history and the large Afro-Peruvian population in El Carmen. A largely agricultural town, with large strips of uncultivated land, I immediately met some old black women interested in where I was coming from. As I sat down to a traditional breakfast, which was incredibly tasty and restored my faith in the meal I had been battling for, we listened to some Mariachi outside and looked at even more construction being done to the main plaza. That was a major theme of the tour - construction. Chincha was really colorful though, both the buildings and the people. And I found it funny that some people actually thought I was from there...

Saddened by being turned away from Hacienda San Jose, an old slave plantation turned restaurant, resort and cultural center, due to the effects of the earthquake, I was happy to visit this famous chef, Mamaine, famous throughout the country, who cooked up some carapulcra and sopa seca for me - delicious. Carapulcra is like a tomato based sauce with meat and crushed peanuts, while sopa seca is like pasta with small bits of beef. She told me to consider her my new "tia." She had a wonderful family, all invested in the business, and some kids from the house next door came out to dance some festejo for me and play the cajon, congas, etc. The girls danced festejo (lot of hip movements) and the boys danced zapatero (tap dancing basically). I had fun dancing with them and taking some video. As I antipicated, El Carmen was just delightful. My stay in the Chincha center was uneventful and I had to turn to down offers to go to the whore houses a bit too many times (people kept offering, my gosh). I also ate this chicken that I had to say small prayer before bed that would not come back to haunt me...the chicken was suspect...

I moved on to Ica, where I stayed in Huacachina at a posh hotel with a swimming pool, bar and restaurant, and a ton of tourists. Huacachina is known for its huge san dunes, so of course I went riding. Along with a Spanish couple, I went in this dune buggy racing across dunes, being thrown in every direction with our crazy driver. It was pretty much like a rollercoaster ride, but I had a lot of sand in my mouth, eyes, ears, everywhere really. We would make stops on tops of sand dunes and then sand board to the bottom, which was a lot of fun and a little scary (especially after I saw this girl go tumbling after letting go of her board, you def. shouldn't let go of the board though going at that speed). The views of sunset on top of the dunes was just awesome and I had one of those moments where I felt really alive, humbled, and thankful. In Ica, I also visited some of the bodegas to try some wines and piscos (like brandy). They kept pouring me little shots to try and I hadn't eaten so I fought off being tipsy; like 25 of those shots in less than 30 minutes should have an effect I'd think. Ica was nice though, definitely a tourist stop rather than a cultural stop.

I'm in Nazca now, a cool little town I arrived at traveling passed hundreds of san dunes and small hills. It's a nice little town, and I met this filmmaker Rob from Arizona who had made some crazy interesting documentaries on parapalegics in Bangladesh, and something cool in India as well. He had traveled all through Latin America, so it was good to pick his brain over an oddly sweet-tasting pizza dinner. I, of course, visited the famous Nazca lines. We flew over them in a small 5-seater plane that made nervous, queasy, and overjoyed all at the same time. I also visited some sacred crazy gravesites with tons of skulls and bones, hair, and dead baby skeletons. It was early and I was a bit creeped out to pay close attention, but I know it predated the Incas, so it was pretty old. Those are the only things to do in Nazca, although last night reggaeton music was blasting into my room from somewhere. I guess Rob and I missed the party. Oh well, after a nice tour (which had its ups and downs) and this novel of a post, I'm ready to see what Colombia has in store. A lot of people have compared it favorably with Brazil, so I'm excited for some sun, some salsa, and some Afro-Colombian culture. I'm on my way...

Cusco and Machu Picchu

I've never seen a dog get hit by a car before. I had been in Cusco for only a few hours, walking to the main plaza for some dinner with two cool guys from London staying in my hostel, when a crazy driver saw a little dog running across the street and sped up. We all gasped at the same time, and of course at the inappropriate time, I started to laugh. But I laughed because this dog got hit by the tire, got bounced back to the sidewalk like a ping pong ball, and then immediately went running into the street again like gettin hit by a car is nothing. I could picture the dog thinking, "Hit me again! I ain't feel nothin" Or maybe the dog was just really stupid. In either case, the dog made it across the second time. What a Cusco welcome!

We got to the main Plaza de Armas (every city seems to have a Plaza de Armas) and it was really gorgeous. There were huge magnificent churches, a square with a lit fountain surrounded by stores, boutiques, and restaurants. The backdrop were huge mountains with lit houses built into them. Just a beaufitul scene. Off the main square were countless side cobblestone streets with more stores and craftsmen. I would learn a few days later that the initial beauty of this scene is somewhat compromised by the insanity. Tons of people are trying to sell stuff every second, following tourists for minutes, some with ugly paintings or some broke lookin figurines, others trying to shove a massage down your throat. Also, the number of tourists is overwhelming. Like any place, it loses its character because of the countless loud groups or big tours taking up all the street space. I felt most comfortable my second day, overlooking the square from a nice restaurant balcony, away from the craziness. It was even more out of control at night. I went out twice during my week in Cusco and it was literally like vultures to a carcass. Bands of guys would follow the group of people I was with, groping the females and offering free drink tickets, begging us to visit their bar (and there are many bars and clubs, playing a mix you'd hear at any late night NYC spot). Needless to say, this wasn't my favorite part of my little side vacation. Strolling through the town was fun though; it's definitely an interesting place as the former capital of the Inca empire.

Anyway, I met some interesting people at this hostel. A sweet party girl from San Diego and an adventurous guy from Canada were living in the hostel, had just moved down to South America in fact. They had just finished school like me, and apparently needed a change of lifestyle. The two guys from London were cool - one was a rapper (actually a pretty talented one, heard two of his freestyles on MySpace) who violently passed gas an odd amount and the other was a real socially conscious, sensitive dude (I thought he was gonna cry when the dog got hit) who I had a long conversation with about the degradation of hip hop in London. Then there was the guy from Sweden, flying around the world shooting an 8-episode documentary on 80 dates (with women) around the world. Wow...Then there was the kid from UCSD who wants to be involved in international real estate and gave me tips on Colombia (my next destination). Then there was the old teacher from LA I met on the train to Machu Picchu, who I talked politics with as he explained he got married to his partner just before the Prop 8 vote. Then there was the Irish guy on the train back from Machu Picchu who was getting married the following week in Aruba and played in an up-and-coming rock band (he had toured the US before!). The list goes on. It was great to meet different, really interesting gringos. I would've liked to have met some more locals though!

Needless to say, Machu Picchu was the highlight. I didn't do any hiking because, no matter how hard I try, I don't like the outdoors - camping, pitching tents, climbing mountains and all that. So, with all the older, frailer looking people, I sat on the bus and train rides and walked a little trail until the lost city was laid out before me. Settled on a mountain top, this ancient city is just a world marvel. You think of how these civilizations understood astronomy, mathematics, engineering so successfully and it boggles the mind. I'm mad the king was the only one with a toilet though; didn't know having a toilet made someone special, but I guess that was one of the signs in those times. All in all, my Cusco/Machu Picchu week was good fun, and definitely felt like a tourist vacation. Still can't believe that dog though!!

Oita Noma y Peña de Rompe y Raja

I arrived in Cusco safely two days ago. It's a truly beautiful town, surrounded by green hills with small houses built into them. It's like looking at a painting. I'll give a more full account of Cusco so far later though, as I'm preparing for Machu Pichu tomorrow!

Anyway, my last two nights in Lima I went to two different peñas, venues in which they have live performances of all kinds of Peruvian music. After a nice dinner, my friend Eliza and I went to this place called Oita Noma. This place was more like a restaurant/peña, on a smaller scale I think than some of the other more famous ones. The sign was somewhat bothersome - it had these four black cartoon characters with big white lips and big teeth. Apparently, that type of thing is kind of common in Peru, or at least my friend explained that. It's interesting how politically incorrect things like that are in the US, but how here a lack of a political/cultural movement against such images makes it commonplace. The band was great - they played merengue, salsa, and some famous "musica negroide" or black music. The lead singer was pretty insane. I wasn't quite sure if he was a man or a woman at first, but we agreed it was a man, just with big curly hair and a tendency to walk as if he was on a catwalk at all times. He was a good singer though, and was funny. At one point he made my friend Eliza and I come up to the front and follow his dance moves, which included a lot of hip movements. We did well though. An older lady gave us a high five as we went back to our seats!

As the guy was walking around with his mic, he came to our table with lots of questions, including how tall I was, if we were married, etc. He even made the whole place start to chant for Eliza and I to make out. We just awkwardly smiled and waved at everyone - a bizarre moment. Then, this really drunk couple invited Eliza and me to sit at their table and drink with them. They ordered like 14 beers and insisted on all of us clanking glasses about 124 times. We were a bit afraid they might be swingers, or at least that's what I thought. They could've just been really really nice though. I was quite disturbed when the guy offered us a ride home, when he couldn't even look or walk straight. I hope they got home safe; most people drive here like they're drunk anyway so I'm sure they were fine. We met the cajon player, a cool, completely ethnically ambiguous guy. He told me he had learned how to play the cajon when he was like 5 years old. In his Afro-peruvian family, it was simply the norm...

The next night I went on my own to Peña de rompe y raja, where they were having a night of "musica negra." This was a really amazing show. The band was awesome, and this beautiful black woman, the MC, had a great voice and sang some songs the whole crowd knew. Then these dancers came out in these really colorful outfits and did a bunch of traditional afroperuano dances. The best dance was called "El Alcatraz," which involved the female dancer having a handkerchief attached to her belt, right above her butt, and the male dancer trying to light it on fire. The female dancer tried to light the male dancer on fire as well. This happens as they both dance to the beat, one chasing the other, but with everything in rhythm. Just awesome! After this, a three man band came out and sang some random popular songs from tons of different genres - they played the Beach Boys and the Beatles even. They were part comic act as well I guess, because the jokes wouldn't stop. They were good though. Then it hit a weird lull, as the MC took like 30 minutes to wish happy birthday and happy anniversary to everyone in the building individually. After this, the band took a break and everyone flooded the dance floor. Soon balloons were released from the ceiling. I just watched curiously and wrote down some thoughts, prompting a very nice woman to come sit across from me, stare me in the face, and ask me why I was depressed, haha. She was with this huge crew, a high school reunion of sorts, and introduced me to everyone. It's interesting discovering how friendly people are while traveling alone. Pretty much everytime I've gone out by myself to a venue like this, I meet some great people. Anyway, the last act I saw before leaving (because it was almost 4am and it was still going) was this singer called Bartela. This black lady had one of greatest, strongest voices I've heard. She's apparently pretty famous in Peru. I marveled at her as I watched from the balcony with my new friends. Seeing her and the dancers and the band made feel that Afro-Peruvian culture is very much something the whole country is proud of, identifies with, has incorported into a national identity (there's tons of national pride, so many songs had lyrics like "Yo soy Peru"). In such a short time in Lima, I saw such wonderful displays of afroperuano cultural pride, and the thing is, there's just so much more to see...

Good Eats and Thoughts of Grandma

Last night I had a little excursion with my friend Eliza, a great lady from Texas who speaks amazing Spanish and seems to be a walking Lonely Planet guide, to get a good dinner with some of the more traditional Peruvian dishes. We started with chicha morada, this tasty sweet drink that comes from strained purple corn - didn't know purple corn existed. Anyway, it was definitely good and we got a whole pitcher of it. Eliza cleverly characterized it as the Peruvian purple kool-aid, haha. We then had an appetizer called papa rellena, which was also very good! It's basically like fried potato filled with beef, onions, peppers and eggs. We had it with some very spicy sauce called salsa criolla, which it's usually served with. Then we moved on to the main course - mine was like a platter with a bunch of different dishes on it. First, carne seca de res, which was heavenly. It's thick beef steak with creamy potatoes, and lots of cilantro. It was just amazing. I also had aji de gallina, which is this thick milk-based stew which chicken served with white rice. This is where grandma comes in!

So since I was little my mom has made what she calls "rice with milk stew." It's definitely my favorite thing of all the delicious food she makes, and for the longest time I just assumed it was Nigerian. But I never had it at Nigerian parties or Nigerian friends' houses. One day I asked my mom where it was from and she told me that my grandma had just made it up. It was something she was just experimenting one day and it tasted really good. So she would make it for my mom and her family, and then she taught my mom and some of the other kids (my aunts) how to make it as well. So it's such a great dish because it definitely feels like a unique part of my family. Anyway, when I tasted it, I dropped my fork and stared at Eliza, which I think creeped her out for like a second. In my head I pictured my grandma and I smiled. Now it's not exactly the same, but the taste and consistency, and having it with white rice, definitely made my taste buds scream the word "home!"

I also had carapulcra, which I wasn't too too crazy about. I think it was like onions, a little beef, cilantro, etc. I don't remember it too much cuz it didn't stick out to me. Anyway, we had a wonderful meal, and Eliza schooled me on the lives of black Peruvians she knew and what she knew about their plce in Peruvian society. I joked a few nights ago with Julian and Daniel that when I see a black Peruvian, it's like an event for me. I get a little excited inside and I just want to ask the person so many questions. But I usually don't do that, I just take note of their existence. Eliza rightfully pointed out that here in Lima, they are mostly out of sight and the people you do see are doing menial work. That might be an improvement from Buenos Aires, where they are virtually non-existent, but still there's a pattern forming here...

Jazz Afroperuano

Saturday night was filled with emotional highs for me. I visited this cool cafe called Jazz Zone in Miraflores where Gabriel Alegria's jazz afroperuano sextet was playing. I read about it online, and was excited to hear what Afro-Peruvian jazz sounded like. I arrived pretty early to buy tickets and saw some great pictures and paintings of jazz greats like Billie Holiday, Dizzy Gillespie, and Charlie Parker in the main hallway. A Miles Davis song was playing, and I knew I was in the right spot. It was interesting though having taken a jazz class in college, learning about the interplay between the birth and evolution of jazz over time with the changing developments in American society. Yet to musicians here, and indeed other places as well, these artists have no nation due to the ways in which jazz music blurs national, racial, and class barriers. The power of black music and performance to achieve this is exactly the focus of my trip. Black music is a language that always communicates an emotion, an experience, a history; it moves in and out of spaces, transforming so much in its path.

I had a brief conversation with a young woman at the ticket table, who was actually the sax player of the group. She saw the book I was carrying - the history of Afro-Latin America - and was excited to discuss some of it. We had a brief conversation about the slave experience in Peru and some of the instrumentation and traditions that grew from it. She seemed really knowledgeable. After a short dinner, I took my seat as the group set up to begin. A really jovial woman sat next to me, and she kept yelling across the room at this older black man. It turned out he was her husband and the cajon player of the group. The cajon is really interesting - it's a distinctly Afro-Peruvian percussion, pretty much a hollow box-shaped wooden instrument placed between the player's legs as he treats it like a drum. It makes booming sounds though; I found it difficult at first to distinguish between the sounds of the cajon and the traditional drum set. Anyway, the woman was really proud of her husband and I got to meet him between sets. He was a very fatherly Afro-Peruvian man, with no doubt a very interesting life.

The sextet had a guitarist (an olive-skinned man named Yuri Juarez who was bald except for a small tuft of hair on the hairline of his forehead - his CD Afroperuano is amazing!), saxophone (the lady had skills!), trumpet (this guy was the "leader" so to speak, his name being gabriel alegria), bass (this interesting guy from somewhere in Africa, I wasn't told the country, with a huge fro and goatee), cajon, and drums (slightly heavier-set guy with glasses). I took countless pictures and videos. They had such a ride variety of songs, including a version of the famous "Summertime" tune, my favorite upbeat song they did. My favorite slow tune was this song called "El Mar" with a great bass solo. It's interesting - the cajon element, and some of the other percussion, is really what makes this type of jazz different, makes it Afro-Peruvian so to speak. The cajon player would periodically shout small phrases or one word like "alegria!" or "vaya!" And the layering of the cajon beat over the drums made it sound really distinctive. The cajon player also had this crazy looking instrument with teeth called a "burro" which turned out to be a monkey's jaw. He ran a stick over the ridges of the teeth, making a pretty cool sound actually. I forgot to ask the name of the last instrument which was also pretty distinct. But the its kind of shaped like a bird house. It's a box that opens on the top, with a big hole in the middle and a strap that goes around the man's neck. He has a thick piece of wood that he bangs on the side while he opens and closes the box. The cajon player played this while dancing, then went into a tap-dancing finale which was great.

The bass player was really interesting to watch too. This man was in another world - the music just took him somewhere. His eyes would be closed and his head slowly swaying back and forth, his facial expressions changing from angry, to euphoric, to intense. This was a funny contrast to the guitar player who looked a bit bored, but you could tell that was just how he played, some people aren't high on emotion but still know how to connect. I was expecting the bass player to be kind of insane from all the devil faces he was making while he was pluckin the bass strings, but he when I met him briefly afterwards and said good job, he was quite soft-spoken.

It was such a great show and I had some nice conversation with people afterward about my trip and other afroperuvian music/artists to check out. I met one woman, a professor at Woodbury College, who teaches intercultural relations or something and speaks nine languages! I tested her out by having her go from Chinese, Japenese, Spanish, English, Portuguese, to French. After all those I was tired of asking. Impressive! We spoke about the importance of cultural understanding in medical care, something that interests me very much. The whole night was just so pleasant and I learned a ton. It was so wonderful to see such a display of afro-peruvian culture come alive.