Dave Meader's Peru Trip

(For more pictures of my Amazon trip, see http://picasaweb.google.com/dkm6266 )

My last adventure of this trip was a 4 day visit to the Amazon River.  I persuaded Jorge, a friend of a very old friend of mine from Michigan (VERY old, Craig), to join me as sort of emissary.  While my Spanish was getting pretty good, and my understanding of urban Peruvian culture sufficient enough to be safe, I thought having a local advocate with me as I ventured into the jungle was…prudent.   Jorge grew up in one part of the jungle, upriver from Iquitos, so he knew the Amazon world and that, in my book, was a Good Thing.  The bonus was that he really wanted to explore like I did, and has a great sense of humor.

Welcome to Iquitos!

So, off we go to Iquitos, Peru, arriving at just the right time to participate in a Peruvian National Moment of Earthquake Preparedness.  Evidently, at 8:00pm, February 26, the entire country held a drill.  As we were waiting for our bags, it hit and alarms went off, fire engines raced about, official people stood around looking…official.  And we arriving passengers were ushered back out onto the tarmac, while all the people waiting on the other side of the security fence were ushered out the other way.  They cleared the ENTIRE airport terminal!  True, the Iquitos terminal is small, but it still was a wonder to see an entirely empty airport.

Jorge, in back on left

Drill concluded, we got our bags, and went out to meet Jose, our Tahuampa Lodge rep and guide for our trek.  I quickly decided that I liked Jose;  he was happy, clearly competent, and spoke good English.  He hailed a mototaxi, a 3 wheeled motorcycle with a covered bench in the back for riders, we got in and sped off into the hot humid Iquitos night.  Iquitos was largely founded when the rubber barons came through last century, and has a lot of interesting architecture, including a metal building designed and constructed by the same goomer who designed the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

Take THAT You Man Eating Beast!

After getting registered into Hotel Florentina (no hot water, minimal amenities, but clean and safe – $25/night, no tax) we raced off in another mototaxi – with the usual laissez faire approach to traffic laws – to the Parrilladas El Zorrito  (Little Fox Barbeque) restaurant.  Us gringos had been warned against eating food cooked on the street because our immune systems are WIMPS compared to the locals’, yet I quickly found myself sitting at table, 3 cold beers in front of me, and an eager server waiting for my order.   I had no choice.  I decided, finally, that my stomach was just going to have to ADAPT, or kill me.  Either way, I was going to eat food cooked on a barbeque on the streets of Peru.   Worry turned to delight as I saw, on the menu, my Bucket List esque opportunity and, unable to deny the irony, I ordered piranha.

Our Point of Departure

The next day, we had another Peruvian Moment, when things that seem to be going in one direction suddenly and without advance warning, go another way.  When we woke up for our trip 40km into the Amazon, trusting totally in those who were hosting us, Jose informed us that he would actually not be able to join us, but had arranged for another guide, Timo, to take us to what was beginning to look like our little version of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.  My first gringo reaction was “uh-oh”, but then more Peruvian sensibilities took over and I thought, “why not?”  I mean, we had just met Jose the night before, and dinner notwithstanding…maybe Timo would be a better guide anyway.

The B.F. Alex Francisco

So off we went, with more high pitched mototaxis, ignoring more traffic laws, to meet Timo at the dock.  He was there, smiling in the boat, the B.F. Alex Francisco, a 40 foot long wooden thing that looked mostly seaworthy.  At least as floatable as any of the other boats tied alongside.  Plus, if we DID take on water, it was a RIVER,  right?  Land was only half a piranha-infested kilometer away on either side.  No worries.

My First View of the Amazon River

We set off on a beautiful late morning, hot, humid on land, but cool and breezy on the river.  The biggest surprise of the Amazon was how WIDE it was.  About 1km from shore to shore, filled with churning brown water, huge chunks of bushes, that seemed like miniature islands, carried along by the fast moving current.  The sky was huge (see a sample of cloud formations here) and the shoreline filled with deeply green vegetation.  We stuck to the middle of the river on the downriver trip.   Of all the places in Peru, the mountains of Machu Picchu and the Amazon River excited me the most.   I learned that a tour boat from Iquitos to the Brazilian border takes about 12 hours downriver.  I didn’t learn how long it takes from there to the Atlantic Ocean, but that trip – like the Trans-Siberian Railroad – has been added to my Bucket List.  (anyone want to go?).

The Ruby Songo - Crack Vessel To The World

Along the way, we came across the Ruby Songo, a big ship that seemed completely out of place in the river next to all the long wooden boats and canoes.  It was moored in the middle of the river, just sitting there.   Turns out that the Ruby Songo had recently been impounded for carrying 500 kilos of cocaine, and wasn’t going anywhere soon.   Made me remember, again, how much cocaine is produced in Peru.  Coca leaves are completely legal, and are traditionally chewed like chewing tobacco.   I was offered little Ziploc bags of coca leaves several times, mostly in Cusco, but never felt compelled to try them.  Should have.  Evidently, locals have been using them as a medicine for thousands of years.  The Ruby Songo was evidence that the trade is alive and well here.

End of Part 1

In Part 2 we meet the Tahuampa Lodge, take a loooooonng walk through the Amazon Jungle, and meet the Yaguas people.  Bonus:  Dave gets a speculative offer of a bride!

The people of the Andes have been using local plants for thousands of years as medicines, and the use of local plans for medicine is still quite popular.   For example, coca leaves (from which cocaine is derived artificially) is used naturally in teas, as chew, and in other medicinal ways.

Tops of San Pedro cactus, Used to Make The Drink

Two other plants are the ayahuasca vine and San Pedro cactus.  Ayahuasca is a hallucinogenic, producing visions for those searching for insight.  The San Pedro is sometimes called a psychotropic, like ayahuasca, but tends to produce “heightened sensation” rather than hallucinations.   Another way of saying it, though pretty darn superficial and ignorant, is that ayahuasca enables seekers an intense 5-6 hour ride through dark visions (which I think is kind of like Jung’s Shadow) while San Pedro enables seekers through a gentler 12 hour ride through light visions.  I have no doubt I’m misrepresenting these two ceremonies, but that’s how I understand them now.

Nick and Dave, Heading To Victoria's in Urubamba

Anyway, this last weekend I did the San Pedro ceremony.  A new friend of mine had visited a shaman the week before to check her out, and after I heard what she had learned, decided it was one of those things I had to try on this journey.  I did what research I could, learned what I could, and felt it was safe and had potential for learning insight.  So on Sunday morning, the three of us left Cusco for the hour long taxi ride to Urubamba (just $2.50 each!) and made our way to the home of the shaman, a woman from Michigan, of all places, named Victoria.  Her friend, Ezekial, a local man steeped in numerology and Andean spirituality, joined us.

Nick, Stacey and Dave - Ready to Go

Victoria and Ezekial, Where We Began

It was a beautiful day – sunny, warm, sweet smelling in her front yard filled with flowers, fruit trees and other verdant and aromatic plants. We spread out a quilt in the grass, sat down, and she told us about the ceremony, the plant, what to expect and answered our questions.  When I did my research I had learned that San Pedro is a form of mescaline, but she explained that she had cooked the mescaline out of the batch we would be drinking.  She explained it like this.  The San Pedro plant is an intense cleanser, that cleanses the liver, which in turn cleanses the blood, which in turn feeds the brain and all of our cells with purer energy and more oxygen.  All four systems in our bodies – physical, intellectual, spiritual, and emotional – benefit from this cleansing.   For those who know about such things, San Pedro works directly on the heart shakra.  I asked what to expect and she replied, “don’t expect anything.  Just see what you notice.”    I did know that it would take about an hour or so for the San Pedro to “kick in” and that the ride would last about 12 hours.

Prior to coming to the ceremony, we three also fasted from a list Victoria gave us – no meat, fat, flour, caffeine, dairy, citrus or spicy foods.  Oh, and no sex, which was the easiest to comply with here.

Jug o' San Pedro

Once we had all of our questions answered, we each drank about 2 cups of a warm amber liquid that looked and tasted like gourd tea.  I found it pleasant enough, but others found it bitter.  No one hurled though, at least at the first cup.

Then we sat back and talked and waited.  I have never taken any drug stronger than weed back in my youth, and one reason was that I never trusted that any supplier would care enough about me to give me something safe.  But I decided to trust Victoria after hearing her story.  It did help some knowing that her medicine had no mescaline in it, but still….I’m in the Peruvian Andes, around 10,000 feet, on the outskirts of a town named Urubamba, drinking a liquid that is supposed to elicit visions, brewed from a cactus with the name San Pedro.   Plus, I’m in the Sacred Valley, full of ancient spiritual power, near the place known as the “navel of the world”.  And I’m downing this tea like it was chamomile.  So I drink and sit back…and wait.

Bottoms Up!

After about an hour, I DID feel something.  Colors were clearer, my vision was sharper, and I became fascinated with how the plants looked.  Not hallucinations or visions, but just able to notice more of what was naturally around me.   We also did a lot of talking, and I noticed that I was speaking faster than normal, or at least it seemed that way.  I also noticed that I didn’t use complete sentences as much as I usually do.  Then I noticed that I was vibrating a lot, yet when I held my hand out it was steady as ever.  Victoria explained that because of the cleansing my body was able to move energy faster and with less effort and what I was feeling was that energy vibrating faster than usual.  My friend, a nurse, took her pulse and saw that it was normal.  It sort of felt like you do when you have too much caffeine, but when I have too much caffeine I can’t focus very well – I get all ADHD-ish.  With the San Pedro, I was able to focus deeper and longer than normal.

This was all about the 2-3 hour mark, when we took another gulp of the San Pedro.  I was feeling pretty good, yet wanted to see if a bit more would enhance what I was experiencing.

Front Porch, Great For Sitting and Noticing

Sometime around the 4-5 hour mark, I (in reflection) shifted to another place that was very mellow, not feeling the need to speak but sometimes doing it.   I felt my creativity come out, and we 5 talked about a WIDE range of topics – personal histories, numerology, Andes religion and history, how modern society separates humans from nature, the ability of the world to absorb pollution, the balance and integration of yin/yang (left/right brain, masculine/feminine, heart/mind), lunar calendar vs. GrecoRoman calendar, worshipping Pacha Mamma (mother earth), how a gringo like me can show respect to Pacha Mamma when I visit Machu Picchu next week (make a sacrifice of good wine and show proper reverence and intention for the visit), the disintegration of the family, how we Westerners misinterpret “poverty”.

(Quick aside on this last point:  Ezekial, who is from both Peru and the US told a story of a friend of his who sent his daughter to a “poor” community to learn to appreciate what she had.  The daughter came back with an entirely opposite view.  She came back saying, “They have 3 dogs, I only have one.  They have rabbits, goats and chickens, and I don’t have those at all.  They live with their entire family all day, I only see you and Mom at night at dinner, sometimes.  They have lots of cousins to play with and aunts, uncles and grandparents to talk to.  My cousins live far away, and I hardly know them.  They sing songs and tell stories around a fire every night.  We watch TV or work on the computer and don’t talk.  They use free plants to stay healthy and recover from sickness.  We have to go to expensive hospitals.  They laugh a lot, and we don’t.”  I paraphrased this a bit, because I did NOT take my iPod recorder with me, but most of this is what Ezekial told me and it’s all in the spirit of what he was saying.)

The Fireplace, I'm Sorry I Didn't Take A Picture When It Was Burning

After dark, we moved inside and Victoria and Ezekial lit a fire in the fireplace that blazed for the next 8 hours, making the room comfortably warm.  As we all laid back on mattresses wrapped in locally made wool blankets, we got even mellower.  However, we also laughed A LOT.  Mostly it was because my other friend was just a funny guy.  Ezekial, a self avowed left brainer, after a few hours, claimed that he had never laughed so much during a San Pedro ceremony, and that his liver hurt.  Which I presume was a good thing.

Time seemed to float by and it was soon midnight, when Ezekial brought out cookies and cheese to break our fast, followed an hour later by a really delicious soup.

We eventually fell asleep around 2:30am, and woke up around 10am the next morning, with no effects other than a little soreness from sleeping on the floor.

So, what did I “get” from my San Pedro ceremony?  I’m still thinking about it.  I didn’t see visions of who Dave 3.0 could be.  There was no epiphany.  There were no hallucinations, or terrifying trips through the Dark side.  It was really very pleasant.  Throughout the evening, I got a lot of affirming feedback from the group that my opinion and perspective on and questions about all those topics (above) were, at least, shared by them.  Victoria, as the shaman, says that she usually has to sing out mean spirits that attach themselves to her “clients”.  However, late in the night she looked at Ezekial and announced that none of us three HAD any mean spirits attached to us.  She claimed we were all healthy. When I asked why we didn’t have mean spirits when it seemed that all her other clients did, she just said that we three have lived pure lives and hadn’t created any weaknesses or ports for mean spirits to get into us, even though they are around us.

So I got THAT going for me.  Which is nice.

At the very least, my San Pedro ceremony provided a beautifully relaxing 12 hours with really special people.   I envision a time when just hanging around with friends for 12 hours talking, relaxing, laughing, reflecting, without trying to prove anything, project anything, gain anything, in a totally natural environment fed by natural foods, breathing pure air, drinking pure water from a mountain stream – when that kind of experience was normal and frequent.  When did I last have that?  When did I last hang around with friends or family where there was no alcohol, caffeine, high fructose syrup, TV, artificial light, noisy traffic, people not listening to each other, or busy schedules requiring an abrupt departure?   I honestly can’t remember.  Maybe when I was a Boy Scout and we were camping?

If nothing else, my San Pedro ceremony showed me that such an experience is something I want to create in my Dave 3.0 life.  I don’t need San Pedro to do it, but my San Pedro ceremony showed me, or perhaps reminded me, that I have been going through life somewhat blind to what is surrounding me.  And that whatever I HAVE been doing, as good and healthy as it was, isn’t the same as the scene I just described.  I want more of that.  I want to experience the kind of connection with my family and friends as I had this weekend with 4 other people I didn’t even know 10 days ago.   So there’s another feature of Dave 3.0!

And that is what I learned from my San Pedro ceremony.

Walking Home in Urubamba

Betty, Dave, Peter, Stacey, Nick - Ready to Feast on Cuy!

It was inevitable, of course.  When you come to Cusco, unless you’re a “dyed in the..uh..cotton” vegan, you’re going to have to try cuy (pronounced, “cooie”).  Cuy is a regional favorite, and so much so that Incan art includes cuy in its art.   Other than rabbit, this was my first rodent to sup upon.  Five us us piled into two cabs, each the size of a downsized Mini Cooper, gave the drivers the name “Sol Moqueguano” and off we went.  Sol Moqueguano is THE place to go for cuy, no fewer than 4 locals told me that.  The place is up on the western hills of Cusco and has no sign.  We show up at 4pm, because it closes at 6pm.  We order 5 Cuy Chactado’s, and 5 big beers.  Naturally, this being Peru, we also got potatoes along with the dish.  Did I mention earlier that Peru boasts over 3,000 varieties of potatoes?  Well, I’m steadily working my way through them all.  This night we had slightly yellow type with a shape of a Snickers bar…sort of.

Tasty!

After 10 minutes, our Man comes out with 5 identical dishes of cuy and we began the adventure.  It tastes, sorta, like rabbit.  Of course, as my new friend Jamie in Lima says, anything that’s fried and salted is going to taste good.  And it did.  It tasted fine, actually.  At least what I could get from it.  A LOT of nonmeat parts, and the meat that was there put up a darn good fight.   We debated, for about 3 minutes, whether it was appropriate to eat cuy with one’s fingers, but the anatomy rendered that debate moot as attacking it with knife and fork was an exercise in futility.  We ate, and ate, and ate….but I’m not sure any of us were all that full when we left.

All in all, I have to report that cuy tastes pretty good, but the presentation of Full Animal was a little disconcerting, and the scarcity of meat barely compensated for the energy expended in getting at it.  Would I have it again?  Only with friends and beer.  Would I order it alone, nah.   And there it is.

Jamie and I took a walk on the wild side, Pachacutec style, yesterday.  Our very gracious hosts at Sol Naciente, took us to lunch after our last class.  From the start, I will TOTALLY own my weenie biases regarding local food and it’s potential threat to my gastrointestinal ecology.  I am learning to trust hygiene here, and I am learning to trust people who want only the best for me.  However, last weekend I went to a lovely restaurant in a perfectly upscale mall (Larcomar), and came away with my first bout of disaster.  So I am a bit wary.

Our Pachacutec Restaurant

Nevertheless, it simply is impolite – and fearful – to turn down an offer from new friends to sample local fare.  So off Jamie and I trudge, up the dusty hills of Pachacutec, to lunch with 6 of our new colleagues.   We end up here, at El Anzuelo (“The Hook”), a fine establishment that the Michelin guide has overlooked for some reason.  To the left is an office business (copies, phone, paper, etc.), to the right is our dining room.  I’m not sure what role the motorcycle plays, but perhaps it adds ambience.

Chica Morada

We sit down at a nice long table for  10, with two very clean lacy tablecloths, and sturdy chairs.  It’s a little dusty, but so is everything in Pachacutec.  We wait awhile, and finally glasses are brought out, and several pitchers of chicha morada, a staple cold drink here.  ”Morada” is purple, so this is a Peruvian “purple drink”, made from purple corn, cinnamon and other things.  You make it by boiling and steeping the ingredients in water until, like a tea, it’s ready to go.  Then set aside, and drink when you’re ready.    I was okay with it, because of the “boil” part of the preparation, but specially – and very considerately given my American preferences in my glass my guests had added about a dozen little ice cubes.  One of the warnings we gringos get is “don’t drink ice”.  Well, so much for that advice.  Ice was GOING to be drunk.

Ceviche!

Next we got our first course – ceviche – which made sense since with a name like “The Hook” and a cuisine broadcast as “cevicheria” it was inevitable that we would eventually be served a big heaping plate of raw fish, “cooked” only by the citric acid in lemon juice.  How much citric acid, and how long it had been allowed to work its chemical wonders on materiel that had – at some uncertain distant past – been swimming about in the waters off some uncertain part of the sea – was unclear.  And not inquired about either, by me or Jamie or the others.  I looked at Jamie across the table, crossed my fingers, and watched as one of my guests wielded a shovel sized spoon, and scooped up enough raw fish to make an adult seal choke.  And then place it on my plate.  Lunch had begun.

Jamie Surveying Lunch

It was very tasty, actually.  Served with two types of sweet potato, one purple, one yellow, and yucca, it made for a formidable meal.  I have learned that there are over several hundred types of potatoes in Peru, and that there is actually an International Center for Potatoes here in Lima that does extensive research on and promotion of indigenous potatoes.   Did you know that the potato is originally FROM Peru and other regions in the Andes?  Yep, about 4 centuries ago, according to Wikipedia, the rest of the world learned about their tuberous goodness because of Spanish conquest.  So they take their potatoes seriously here, and I was happily scarfing down as much of them as I could.  Partly because they were tasty, partly because it delayed my unavoidable delving into that worrisome plate of raw fish.

We had a lot of time. There was no rush.  And so there was no way to go slow and leave the bulk of the potentially chaos-causing food on the plate.  I ate it all, finally, and then accepted my fate.  Whatever was going to happen, there was nothing I could to avoid increasing the chances of it happening.

Wrong.  Course 2 showed up.

Conejo. Yum!

This one at least looked more familiar, fried chicken with roasted corn and a different kind of sweet potato.  Only not.  Conejo.  Rough English translation?  Soft, furry, bouncy, hopelessly defenseless, endlessly cute, subject of countless toddler stories and traditions.  Or, more succinctly.  Bunny rabbit.

Among the positive aspects:  it looked good, it was clearly cooked with real heat, and I had not read anything warning me away from it.  So, what the hell?  It couldn’t do anything worse to me than the ceviche or ice cubes, could it?  I looked up, and Jamie seemed almost relieved to be eating his.  Something decidedly safe, if not sacrilegious.  I stuck a fork in and went for it.  And it was okay.  Tasty, a bit dry, a bit tough.

Now, 24 hours later, still healthy and feeling no consequences, I can report that the meal was a success.  The staff from Sol Naciente were very gracious, they had shown us a part of their life.  Some had even shared the trepidation about conejo and ceviche that Jamie and I did our best to hide.  This was a nice Pachacutec restaurant, and the proprietor was a proud happy man (I’m sorry I didn’t get a picture of him).

And if there was a liberal dog policy, so be it.  That was just Pachacutec!

Dogs Welcome!

For more pictures of lunch, see my Picasa Album here.

Last night, Saturday night, I went to a “peña”, which translates roughly to “honkin’ big bar that sells honkin’ big beers which you have to buy 3 at a time, features a string of live local music with bands that go on stage no earlier than 11:30pm, provides long tables aimed to mix groups of friends – old and new – to come and party together, and encourages MUCH audience participation through dancing, sing alongs, voting (with feet and whooping), and other enjoyable mayhem”.   Or something close to that.

Ad for Last Night

For my last night in this part of Lima, I chose Peña del Carajo, in the Barranco district (taxi there cost $1.75).    I WAS heading out alone, but came across Pina – the aforementioned housekeeper/folk singer – coming back from somewhere in the dark, and persuaded her to come along.   While I’m adventurous, and unwilling to stay at home just because I’m alone, why not have company?   So, off we went.

We got there really early, 10:30pm, and pretty much had the place to ourselves.  The place reminded me of Oktoberfest, in Munich.  A  big barn like structure with bamboo ceilings, and many picnic tables.  I’d guess the capacity was over 1,000 people.   Evidently the protocol is to reserve a table a few days before, because we were instructed to stand off to the side until 11:00pm.  THEN we could grab a seat, which we did.  Cost was $12/person, which included cover, 1 beer and 1 pisco sour.

Inside Pena del Carajo

You know how you hear that “everyone speaks at least some English” around the world, especially when they want your money?  Not so much here.  Which made me glad Pina came along, because people do a lot of negotiating here – the taxi driver, the driver angry at the taxi driver who chose to yell at me, the bouncer, the host who didn’t want to seat us without a reservation but eventually did with sufficient brow beating by Pina, the waiter who refused to sell just ONE beer – we ended up buying the standard package of 3…and well, just everyone.  Toss in really loud music and well, your intrepid reporter COULD have managed, but his style (“habla muy despacio, por favor?”) would have rankled the fast moving scene.

Anyway.  With peña arrived at, entry achieved, drinks acquired, seats sat in…the night begins.

The type of music featured last night was criolla which is a mix of different styles, African,  Spanish, Andean..and is widely popular as folk music.  There were  bars and clubs featuring rock music, but I wanted criolla.

Somos Jarana

The first band up was Somos Jarana (video here).  The front man was a big guy beating on his chair, who apparently told rollicking stories in between his songs, and the audience ate it up.  He was as much a raconteur as he was a bandleader.   The music was upbeat, happy and festive; just as I expected Latino music to be.  But no one danced.   It seems like the audience dances mostly between songs, when recorded music blares.  In fact, when Somos Jarana came back after their first break, the Big Guy told everyone to sit down….and they quickly and quietly did!

More stories from the Big Guy, and then out came Los Ardiles (video here), 3 guys in snappy, matching vests who would fit nicely in a Vegas cabana room.  Really peppy, and the crowd loved them.  They started off

Los Ardiles

with standard songs, but then moved into an improvised medley, asking random audience members where they were from and then singing songs of that nationality:  Brazil, Colombia, Argentina.  One person said “Florida, Estados Unidos” but the lead singer didn’t seem to have a song for Estados Unidos, and moved on.  With every nationality some section of the crowd would stand up, whoop and shake their hands in support.  He really got the whole crowd moving.

Bailarines de negra musica

Then 6 costumed, talented and well-rehearsed dancers came on to dance to “negro musica”, which translates directly to Black Music, a popular influence and subcategory.  The dance floor was clear, except for them, and they took over, dancing with lit candles in a traditional way, holding the candles behind their backs as they gyrated, and working the candles into the steps with each other.  Really fun to watch.

Then…..I don’t know what happened.  Maybe I was tired (it was 1:00am), maybe I’d had just a sip or two too much, maybe Karma was telling me it was time for this gringo to go home and get some rest.  But Los Ardiles broke out a jolting part of their repertoire…..Bee Gees cover tunes.   Which was my signal to Pina that it was time we should leave.  The rest of the 1,000+ audience treated it as a sort of live karaoke, but I’ve had a visceral revulsion for All Things Bee Gee since my D.R.E.A.D. (Detroit Rockers Engaged in the Abolition of Disco) card carrying days.  I try to be open minded as a tourist, and on this trip especially, but…no.  This was beyond the pale.  So we left.

Besotted with Cusqueno beer, clothing and hair reeking of cigarette smoke, ears buzzing, brain overwhelmed with a mishmash of all the Spanish I’m trying to learn, and temporarily stunned at hearing Barry Gibb-esque espanol…..we found a cab and $2 and 10 minutes later, I was safely in bed.

Good times!

Pulpo Antes

As a result of the visit to the fish market a couple days ago, I had  octopus for lunch (and dinner) yesterday.  Octopus en espanol es “pulpo“.    Here are the before and after shots.  The yellow stuff is yucca.  The white/purple stuff is onion.   YUM!

Pulpo Despues

And for a tasty drink?   Chicha Morada!

Chicha Morada

Your Intrepid Reporter

This is your opportunity to give me, your intrepid Peruvian reporter, ideas about what you want me to explore, investigate, experience and write about.  Or take pictures of.  Or muse upon.   Just add a comment to the end of this post, at any time during this trip, and I’ll do my best to deliver!

I’m a Dr., but not the useful kind.  So I’ve been asking my more medically experienced friends for suggestions on what I should take with me on this trip.  Peru, as I understand it, has pretty decent medical facilities if I get in real trouble.  But who wants to go to the doctor if I can take care of things myself?  My friends, Heather Lockert, Michelle Pualuan, and Craig Brennan have been helpful so far.

The Dangers.

• Water – I’ve been warned by nearly everyone to avoid drinking untreated water.  The nurse that gave me my vaccinations even told me to shut my
  

  My "go to" drink.

  mouth during showers, which will cut down on my customary morning singing and yodeling.  Still, the requirement to drink just beer and bottled water doesn’t seem too much of a sacrifice.  I did it in Dubai, and it was easy.

• Roadside food vendors – in a word…..NO. “But what if it looks tasty and I’m hungry?”  NO.  ”What if it looks clean enough and they assure me that they’ve only cooked with boiled water?”  NO.  ”What if…..” NO, NO, and what part of NO do you not understand? “okay, fine”.
• Dogs – Same nurse, who is from El Salvador, admonished me to not pet Fido, as many dogs in rural areas have rabies.  She said nothing about llamas.
  

  So cute! And rabies free!

• The Candiru Fish – see earlier post.

To combat these few risks, I’m taking some familiar medicines with me. I’m sure I could find them in local stores, but rather than try to learn medical terminology and try to figure out quality, I’m just going to take a little drug store with me.

The List of Medicines

• Ibuprofen – for aches and pains and headaches.
• Immodium – for , um, those special times.
• Ciprofloxacin – a broad spectrum anti biotic
• Antibiotic ointment – for when I make a boo boo on my body
• High grade pain reliever - dilaudid or vicodin, if I can get a prescription. For those times when I make a BIG boo bo on my body.
• Malarone – for malaria, one pill a day for 3 days prior to entering the Amazon, for every day I’m there, and for one week after I leave.  Side effects?  Exciting!  Hallucinations every night while camping in a region rife with big snakes, marauding monkeys, shrieking birds, biting insects, and – if the hallucinations work – big marshmallow men with spears.  Good times!
• Benedryl – for when I brush up against something my body has never seen and screams like a little girl in brilliant red hives.
• Powdered gatorade or emergenC – to add electrolytes just in case I don’t get enough water.
• Band aids, gauze pads….tourniquets – to stop the gushing.

So that’s the plan.  What else should I take?