PERÚ: THROUGH THE LAND OF INCAS

Peru is famous for ponchos, chocolate and musicians in the traditional clothes spreading Peruvian culture all over the world. Long time a go, there was a culture collision: (pre)Inca tribes, Inca people, Spanish colonists, all of them, mixed up, made this country enormously popular. Now, I understand why.

I didn't have a lot of time for sightseeing Lima. Dealing with the broken suitcase, and looking for the dentist who speaks or understand English or, at least, knows to fix my husband's filling. It's not a kind of fun I would recommend. Still, running the daily basis I managed to see that Lima looks like a piece of half eaten panna cotta cake: flat on the top, where the city lays down; scooped on the sids of mountain banks descending to the level where Pacific Ocean stretches. 

Asking for the direction, I met a local who offered us a free tour around the city. He seamed a nice guy: educated, speaking a few languages and well informed about my country of origin. It was Saturday so we accepted his invitation. He showed us part of the city called Barranca. It's very noisy during the weekend: pubs, restaurants, groups of people  trying to entertain the people with different purpose: at one side are army officers calling to join the army, on the other side- hippie group calling, probably,not to join the army, then the beach with huge pebble stones and the sound of waves like a firework. After a long walk he introduced us to ancient Peruvian dish - anticucho a skewer of beef served with boiled potato and corn and chica -drink made of purple corn. After we had a dinner, we took a shot of  Peruvian cocktail made of maracuya, known as a passion fruit. 

That interesting weekend was gone, so was I to see more of this country.

While I'm sitting on the train, I take few sips of a tea (eucalyptus, coca, muña), and at sudden, I see the mountains so green like the brand new carpet spread all around. The clouds are going down and up like the theater curtain. I hear a sound of a horn and a man appears in front of me, in the colorful dress, the feather around his forhead, holding a spear in his hand. An Incan.

- Don't be afraid! He says. I mean no harm to you! Welcome to Machu Picchu!

Why do I feel so noxious?  

-It's the altitude. The tea you took should prevent it. 

The history of my people is written in this mountains, rivers, caves. God of Sun sent his children to raise our country. We live in peace with the nature and the Universe. We build the roads and the houses you will use one day. We don't kill others, we try to teach them our patterns. We work all together in the community and everything belongs to everybody. We help the elders and weak. We produce for ourselves, we don't use the money and we don't kill for money. We exchange our goods for other goods we need. We don't spend our ancestors fortune, we cherish it. Now, some foreign men are coming to take it away from us. They build their homes from our walls. 

Where are other people? Are you alone here?

-They are escaping and hiding in the mountains. My land is disappearing slowly.

Why don't you defend it?

-These men are powerful and they have guns. They bring disease, too. Soon, we'll have to give up on our customs and to take theirs.

-Come now, I want to take you somewhere else, you've never been before.

I find my self in Huacachina, an oasis in the middle of the desert. Climbing all this ascents with the ground not so firm feels so strange. As I'm descending, I leave my feet falling deep into the send. Wondering how deep it could be? What if I drowned in the send? Who would find me? He gives me a ride through the desert and it's like the one on the roller coaster with all ups and downs and my gut turned upside down. Anyway, I enjoy it, as much I enjoy sliding down the dunes on the board. It's impossible to get rid of the send, it's coming out of everywhere. During the sandstorm people who live there don't seem to enjoy the send much. Nobody wants to be lost in here.

-Have you ever heard about people who live floating on the lake?

No, I visited once a floating market but I don't think this people live there.

-Prepare yourself for what you're going to see.

Titicaca lake, between Peru and Bolivia, a place where mountain rivers end up. There are 87 artificially made island, most of them settled by Uros people, speaking Aymara language. It takes a year to make one island. The base of root of totora, a reed that grows in the lake. One part of the plant is edible, the flower is used as a medicine for headache and stomachache and the rest of it is for  "pavement" and houses. Each island has 3-5 families, and it's own president. A couple who gets married can also start a new island. There are three primary school and a hospital on the "waterland". Higher education facilities are on the mainland. The residents eat fish and drink water from the lake. In one of this houses lives Chacho with his family: wife and two sons. He lives from making a handicrafts and every Saturday he goes to the mainland to sell it. 

He has cousins on most of the islands, even in Bolivia. Like every "islander", he uses a Venetian style taxi as a mean of transportation. 

-We can watch TV, he explains, using a solar system to get the electricity.

Who needs a TV here? I ask myself while my eyes are getting soaked in the golden color of the islands perfectly matched with the blue color of the lake and the green color of the mountains. Still I don't want to soak my feet in the lake so I watch every step, but the ground is very firm even if it's made of grass. 

As I walk around, I see parts of the island making like a small waves. It's floating. It won't be a surprise if residents from Peruvian side wake up one day in Bolivia.  

-You've seen everything now. I need to go. My people needs me. Take care. Do me a favor and spread a word about Incas, please. He shakes my hand and vanishes in the distance so fast that I don't have a chance to thank him for the hospitality.