The Living and the Dead

My first introduction to Peru was a city called  Chiclayo.

Chiclayo is a large city near the northern coast of Peru and before we go any further I would like to tell you about the northern coast of Peru.

Peru *see map, is a massive country with a lot of different areas, but like most of the Andean region it can be roughly divided into three sections. The coast, the mountains, and the jungle. These geographic regions have had a huge impact on the groups of people who live in these countries. As a local guide told me yesterday "Andean mountain peoples, same peoples, same basic cultural beliefs" that being despite the fact that the Andes Mountain range is over 4000 miles long. The mountain peoples do seem to share tenets, similar styles of dress, similar life styles, similar languages, similar religions -and a shared history of being invaded (for a short period of time) by the empire of the Incas.

The Living and the Dead (I was already planning on writing about this, when I went to one of the biggest museums in the area... at the entrance are two posters... one of the living and the other of the dead).

The coastal region of Peru is extremely dry, considered a desert by most, and only habitable in the places where mountain streams and rivers exit the mountains and join up with the Pacific. Though I know deserts are complex ecosystems, they are rarely habitable by humans in large numbers. The desert of coastal Peru ought to be death for humans, but it has been inhabited by people in great numbers for thousands of years. The people have created complex irrigation systems that turn this

 into a farming region that supplies most of Peru's rice and half of it's sugar cane.

Massively impressive cultures have learned to thrive in this area, growing, creating, expanding, and then like all civilizations collapsing (sometimes due to the climate). But others have always picked up where the previous group left off, and this cycle of life and death is what I found in my experience both in observing the culture and also in my personal experience... getting swept up and perhaps swept away.

In this desert climate is the loud and chaotic city of Chiclayo *metro area of around 1 million people. 

I was told by guidebooks and other travellers to avoid this place. They said it was dirty and noisy and brutally hot. That everyone was in a rush and no one would be friendly, in fact that it would be dangerous. That in the desert there was no place for a backpacker unless he had a lot of money to afford air-conditioning. That it would be better to go hang out on a beach and kick it rather than deal with this massive waste-land. 

I found the city to be a complete shock and loved that. The first thing I saw that stood out were an abundance of mototaxis(pictured below) zipping everywhere, loud and chaotic.

The streets were lined with people, rushing from place to place, hailing taxis, weaving between vehicles, yelling loudly at friends. A completely in your face experience of venders selling every product imaginable.  One of the first examples I faced of this were groups of guys waving calculators in my face... my culture shocked brain didn't comprehend till later that they were money changers and were offering "a good rate."
The biggest tourist attraction in the city is the Mercado Modelo. A massive outdoor/indoor market selling everything from food to clothes, to potions, to hair cuts... and loudly... the haircut girls were especially likely to catcall me from their booths, sometimes approaching, always flirtatious.

 



So after a few hours of wandering around, completely overwhelmed by the chaos, the dirt, the smells, the noise. I started wondering if maybe everyone was right. Maybe this is a place that is just too much for a backpacker. Too much humanity, dirt and grime... not to mention it is the dry season so it is construction season. Jackhammers and broken streets.



I said to myself, find something calming... something beautiful and relaxing... and I went toward a park called the Paseo De Las Musas.
 


Speeding by the park on either side is the always constant traffic... but in-between the dirty streets - flowers, children playing, lovers holding hands, statues of the muses to inspire the heroism and creativity that allows life to flourish in the desert.
And that is just it... dirty, chaotic, noisy, smelly life on the edge of the abyss with the desert wind blowing the sand through the streets and the heat always baking you. The passion for life in Chiclayo is so strong that it is overwhelming, it is explosive, it is bursting. Chiclayo is what life looks like when it can't afford to relax, can't calm down, must stay ambitious and firmly adamant.  The mantra in the streets of Chiclayo is "We will live, but not just that we will eke out our existence until we thrive!"

In Cuenca I saw a beautiful aesthetic, that felt calming and secure, in Chiclayo I found a totally different but still impressive and beautiful way of living.

The Living

I would not have recognized this if I hadn't made the conscious choice to choose life.

My time in Cuenca had been lovely and relaxing, but safe and boring. I hadn't met anyone in days, I felt like I was seeing beauty but not getting to experience it. So in my first 15 minutes in Chiclayo the hotel receptionist asked me what I was doing with my time there, and I mumbled out something about wanting to see the historical sites. She asked if she could take me, later she clarified that she had the day off and was wondering if I wanted to go to the beach or one of the historic sites.  She asked to be my friend.

---- Now at this point I should remind you that I have been told  (even by locals of Chiclayo) to not trust anyone. A woman at a cafe near the hotel told me to "stand up, act confident, look strong, don't trust the men and especially the women who flirt". There are many many stories of backpackers getting kidnapped, drugged, murdered etc. So in my head I am aware that this woman has an agenda... But is it for good or bad? Also I don't speak Spanish very well and I am worried that I will make a complete fool of myself, But playing it safe doesn't make you new friends. 

The next day we meet up and she asks if I want to go to Motupe(a town I have never heard of) but I have decided to trust her so we head out. 

On  the bus she explains that there is a town celebration because it is the anniversary. Later she shares that part of the celebration is a pilgrimage to see a cross on the hill (Santisma Cruz de Motupe), she has been doing this for 5 years. 

And so we join the living crowd of thousands walking up the mountain in their veneration, their disgust, their hope, their exhaustion, their laughter, their frustration, their sorrow but perhaps also their joy. With prayers on their hearts for their families, for good fortune, for their health, for new and lost loves, for new and lost lives.

also we took selfies

Along the way tiendas selling jewelry, icons, prayer candles, and tons of other little goods.

Of course also alters, the stations of the cross. Places to offer those prayers of your heart, to place them in a space, to give them to the saints, to God to worry about.

And because it is a family affair, a celebration. Pictures with the llama anyone?

The path is long, exhausting and almost all up hill. But at a certain point the line just stops. There you stand and wait for your turn, a few hours in wait to pray.

For this. A quick prayer. A kiss of the cloth. Your devotion to the God who promised to protect the area.

The view from the top. A long walk.

As I was walking I took the time to be thankful for the opportunities I had been provided with, for the company, and also for the joy of being part of this celebration. To be part of the living breathing, complex human condition.  Moving forward amongst thousands to celebrate what has been, and hope collectively for a prosperous future. 

I was so grateful, so swept up in the heat and the moment that I basically didn't eat all day, nor did my companion so when we got back to the city we walked through the markets. She bought dried fruits and nuts. I bought bread.  We decided it was not too late to go see the beach.

By moon light and a bit of human engineering we ran on the beach in the slightly less than darkness. On the sand were beahed boats, but no one else was around.  The waves looked huge and I could imagine being swept away and never being heard from again.  Humanity really is such a fragile thing.      Life such a blessing.

The Dead

The area now called Peru has been home to humans for thousands of years. Civilizations and cultures have thrived here as long as in Egypt, China, India or Mesopotamia. 

It's actually sad that the most well known of these cultures was one of the shortest lived and most recent. The Inca expanded from far south conquering by force and alliance much of the Andes in just a few generations. Then a civil war and the trickery of Spanish conquistadors lead to their defeat, ushering in the colonial era and forever changing South America. 

I have taught some of this stuff in small bursts for world history class. But in the US the vast history of South America is rarely explored. We don't talk about the pyramids and cities, the textiles, pottery or gold work, nor the incredible agricultural technologies that have reshaped the way the entire world eats (tomatoes, potatoes, corn, chiles, varieties of fruit, quinoa). 

There are several major museums and sites in the Lambayeque region. All impressive in their own way, but I went to the following sites.

-Museo Tumbas Reales de Sipan

-Bruning Museum

-Valle de  Piramides at Tucume

-Museo Sican 

The first one doesn't allow pictures so these are all from the other three.

The incredible wealth found at these sites, especially the massive funeral tombs was shocking. Tons of gold, turquoise jewelry, and beautifully molded pottery have been found and displayed.

The museums also display the process of discovery and research.  

At Tucume, a long walk lead to what at first looked like just more hills and mountains... But as you get closer you realize (that's no moon) the hills are actually old buildings. Pyramids and walls. 

The ruins are spread out over a great distance, and things like this can be found all over the coast or Peru. 

Walking up the actual hill you can see the massive complex, the city that must have been here, thrived and eventually faded. 

The wealth of these museums, the awe inspiring sites, leaves one feeling a strange sense of the complexity of life... Both calm, as in it continues through the generations, from parent to child and so on- until we start to call them parent and child cultures.

And also in the strange anxiety to live while there is time. The structures I have called home and work, will decay and perhaps be an ancient site to be discovered some day. My bones, the contents of my wallet or my closet may be a future archeological dig. 

And so though this whole blog post may seem over dramatic, -an attempt to make beautiful pottery from the muck... I was super happy to have time in chiclayo to learn from both the living and the dead.