Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Saturday, 23 July 2011
First donation
Hi everyone,
just a quick post to explain how we have spent some of your very generously donated money.
For the last 2 weeks we have been volunteering in a tiny little school about 30k out of Cusco. It has 16 students and 2 teachers.
I have explained a little about the school in a previous blog- it has limited funding so reuses everything. Composts food waste, makes curtains from old clothes and chairs from bottles. About 18 months ago the town below the school was totally flooded and its 200 inhabitants moved into the school. They totally wrecked the place, destroying the gardens, showers and tolets so for the past 6 months the students and teachers have been rebuilding it little by little with the help of volunteers like us!
It has taken 2 weeks to dig a veggie patch, mainly due to the blazing heat and altitude! We have donated 300 soles (about 75 quid) to buy veggies and tools to help the students grow their own food. I will post the photos asap- THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO DONATED MONEY!
Off to Arequipa now to do some sight-seeing.
xxxxxx
just a quick post to explain how we have spent some of your very generously donated money.
For the last 2 weeks we have been volunteering in a tiny little school about 30k out of Cusco. It has 16 students and 2 teachers.
Off to Arequipa now to do some sight-seeing.
xxxxxx
Sunday, 17 July 2011
'Ive never been happier to navigate my way through a dark, delapidated brothel....' (Roo Stainton 2011)
We returned to Cusco from Macchu Picchu shattered and slept for two days. After our marathon rest we started out, refreshed and ready for another adventure, by finding the correct bus that would take us to Huambutio to our second Peruvian volunteering placement. We jumped in the back, threw our bags on the roof, and off we went. No more than two miles into our death-defying, buttock-clenching journey did something fly off the roof. To my dismay, I soon discovered it was my expensive coat, and not only has it fallen off the roof of the bus, some other bus had stopped in the middle of the road and a theiving Peruvian fleece stealer had nabbed it! We shouted something loudly, not in Spanish or English, maybe in French and the driver made a handbreak turn and that was it, we were off on a high speed, South American car chase! Everyone in our bus was ready, if neccasary to jump out and hang off the window wipers, wing mirrors, or any protruding part of the enemy bus to ensure the safe return of my coat. My quiet mutters of 'its Ok' and 'I could just buy a new one' fell on deaf ears and we quickly overtook the offending bus. We performed another handbreak turn and stopped head-on infront of the bus. The Peruvian fleece stealer, faced with a bus load of angry faces, wisely decided to return the stolen object and threw it on the bonnet of our bus, causing woops of delight from the passangers. Feeling slightly embarrassed to have caused such a to-do, we thanked the driver who looked extremely pleased with himself and we carried on with our journey.
Feeling slightly sick from the whole experience we were glad when the sign for Humbuatio came into view. ´Get off at the bridge before the town´ Enrique had emailed me, 'you´ll see a big white house, thats where we live´. As the bridge came into view we told the driver to stop. He didn´t stop. Over the bridge, past the big white house we went. The passangers shook their heads and pointed down the road. Almost 2 miles later the bus stopped, ´Huabutio´everyone said in unison. We got out, picked up our bags and started the long trudge down the dusty road, up a hill, blaming each other for not getting out earlier.
We arrived at the big white house, thirsty and dusty and introduced ourselves to Victor and Enrique, who has to be the tallest man in Peru at 6ft 7. I was quite relieved as I have been feeling like a giant. Everyone in Peru(except Enrique) is shorter than Emma, which is really quite short. We were shown around the house which has 10 bedrooms, a pool (empty), massive gardens and outhouses. We were told it used to be a hotel for gentlemen....... Enrique now rents it and runs it as a cultural centre and somewhere for local kids to come and ride bikes, draw, cook and play sports. He also throws the odd rave.
After our tour of the ´brothel´as it will now be affectionately known, we we taken to the local primary school, a sweet litte school which prides itself with recycling everything it uses. The chairs and tables are made from plastic bottles taped together. They compost all their food waste, have a solar powered shower and their school books are made from recycled paper. This is a bit revolutionary in Peru as most people just chuck their rubbish in the street.The school has 16 kids in total, 11 board as they live too far to walk everyday. The school day ends at 1pm which is when their teacher leaves. The principle, a fantastic lady called Janet lives at the school, with the boaders as a volunteer all week. She devises after school activities for them, makes sure they take showers and looks after them like her own kids. She gets to go to her own home at the weekends. Without Janet volunteering in this way, these 11 kids wouldn´t be able to have an education. Anyway, we were thrown into the deep end on our first day and told to take an english class. The class consisted on 7 kids between the ages of 6 and 12- none of whom spoke any english, and we dont speak any spanish. As you can imagine it was a bit of a disaster, which ended up with Emma having her hair braided and nails painted. Luckily for me, my hair is too short to be appealing to small Peruvian girls so I escaped with just a few pink nails.
The next day we spent the morning at the secondary school, teaching pronunciation to 10-12 year olds. They were more terrified than us, which could have something to do with their teacher. Dragon doesnt come close! She forced them into a circle and made them say vegetable and animal names in English one at a time. Thnakfully she left us in charge of the group so we deviated from the lesson plan slightly and played a running, chasing type circle game which seemed much more exciting to me. In the afternoon we went back to the little school and helped with some gardening. The days passed happily like this for a while, going to school, coming back to the house where Victor would cook fantastic meals, make the odd cake...etc etc. Until Enrique had a great idea.....
´Lets go to a small, remote mountain village´ he said. ´We can start a recycling project there´. Brilliant we thought. The trip to the mountain village happened to coincide with the biggest festival this side of Lima, thrown every year in aid of some virgin or another. Thousands of people flooded the town for a weekend. After catching two buses in the blazing heat, carrying 4 bags the size of tables Emma, Victor, Pepe (Victors brother) and I arrived in Puecotambo sweaty and kanckered only to find Enrique chilling in the sun having ridden his motorbike up a few hours earlier. We carried the bags to the local campsite which consisted of a field and one broken toilet. Brilliant. We put up the tents, and to our dismay, discovered that we were to share with Victor and his 17 year old brother. This would have been fine, they are lovely boys, excpet for the smell of Pepe´s feet. In an attempt not to vomit, we opened the door of the tent all night, braving the freezing temperatures.
In the morning, Emma was a treat. Having forgotten all our money, having no sleep, being cold, not being able to wash and having no clean drinking water seemed to put her in some kind of angry trance. We ventured into town to find water, like two nomadic tribespeople, only to be engulfed by drunkem mob of dancers. We were thankfully pushed towards a samll shop where we bought water and waited for the rush to subside. By now Emma was beyond angry- steam was escaping from her ears, I dared not to ask for anything to eat as we trudged our way back to the campsite. The final straw was when Enrique suggested we move our tent, Pepe´s feet and all, onto the road, infront of the truck we were to catch a ride in at 4am the next morning. We promptly packed our bag and caught the next bus back to Huambutio. Nonoe was perticularly amused, but Emma meant buisness, and if you know Emma, she´s not to be messed with if tired, cold and hungry!
We arrived back at the house in the pitch dark. Struggling with the big bunch of keys, trying not to jump at all the strange noises that old houses make, we managed to find our way to bed to sleep in a war(ish) room on matresses and have a shower the following morning! Bliss!
Feeling slightly sick from the whole experience we were glad when the sign for Humbuatio came into view. ´Get off at the bridge before the town´ Enrique had emailed me, 'you´ll see a big white house, thats where we live´. As the bridge came into view we told the driver to stop. He didn´t stop. Over the bridge, past the big white house we went. The passangers shook their heads and pointed down the road. Almost 2 miles later the bus stopped, ´Huabutio´everyone said in unison. We got out, picked up our bags and started the long trudge down the dusty road, up a hill, blaming each other for not getting out earlier.
We arrived at the big white house, thirsty and dusty and introduced ourselves to Victor and Enrique, who has to be the tallest man in Peru at 6ft 7. I was quite relieved as I have been feeling like a giant. Everyone in Peru(except Enrique) is shorter than Emma, which is really quite short. We were shown around the house which has 10 bedrooms, a pool (empty), massive gardens and outhouses. We were told it used to be a hotel for gentlemen....... Enrique now rents it and runs it as a cultural centre and somewhere for local kids to come and ride bikes, draw, cook and play sports. He also throws the odd rave.
After our tour of the ´brothel´as it will now be affectionately known, we we taken to the local primary school, a sweet litte school which prides itself with recycling everything it uses. The chairs and tables are made from plastic bottles taped together. They compost all their food waste, have a solar powered shower and their school books are made from recycled paper. This is a bit revolutionary in Peru as most people just chuck their rubbish in the street.The school has 16 kids in total, 11 board as they live too far to walk everyday. The school day ends at 1pm which is when their teacher leaves. The principle, a fantastic lady called Janet lives at the school, with the boaders as a volunteer all week. She devises after school activities for them, makes sure they take showers and looks after them like her own kids. She gets to go to her own home at the weekends. Without Janet volunteering in this way, these 11 kids wouldn´t be able to have an education. Anyway, we were thrown into the deep end on our first day and told to take an english class. The class consisted on 7 kids between the ages of 6 and 12- none of whom spoke any english, and we dont speak any spanish. As you can imagine it was a bit of a disaster, which ended up with Emma having her hair braided and nails painted. Luckily for me, my hair is too short to be appealing to small Peruvian girls so I escaped with just a few pink nails.
The next day we spent the morning at the secondary school, teaching pronunciation to 10-12 year olds. They were more terrified than us, which could have something to do with their teacher. Dragon doesnt come close! She forced them into a circle and made them say vegetable and animal names in English one at a time. Thnakfully she left us in charge of the group so we deviated from the lesson plan slightly and played a running, chasing type circle game which seemed much more exciting to me. In the afternoon we went back to the little school and helped with some gardening. The days passed happily like this for a while, going to school, coming back to the house where Victor would cook fantastic meals, make the odd cake...etc etc. Until Enrique had a great idea.....
´Lets go to a small, remote mountain village´ he said. ´We can start a recycling project there´. Brilliant we thought. The trip to the mountain village happened to coincide with the biggest festival this side of Lima, thrown every year in aid of some virgin or another. Thousands of people flooded the town for a weekend. After catching two buses in the blazing heat, carrying 4 bags the size of tables Emma, Victor, Pepe (Victors brother) and I arrived in Puecotambo sweaty and kanckered only to find Enrique chilling in the sun having ridden his motorbike up a few hours earlier. We carried the bags to the local campsite which consisted of a field and one broken toilet. Brilliant. We put up the tents, and to our dismay, discovered that we were to share with Victor and his 17 year old brother. This would have been fine, they are lovely boys, excpet for the smell of Pepe´s feet. In an attempt not to vomit, we opened the door of the tent all night, braving the freezing temperatures.
In the morning, Emma was a treat. Having forgotten all our money, having no sleep, being cold, not being able to wash and having no clean drinking water seemed to put her in some kind of angry trance. We ventured into town to find water, like two nomadic tribespeople, only to be engulfed by drunkem mob of dancers. We were thankfully pushed towards a samll shop where we bought water and waited for the rush to subside. By now Emma was beyond angry- steam was escaping from her ears, I dared not to ask for anything to eat as we trudged our way back to the campsite. The final straw was when Enrique suggested we move our tent, Pepe´s feet and all, onto the road, infront of the truck we were to catch a ride in at 4am the next morning. We promptly packed our bag and caught the next bus back to Huambutio. Nonoe was perticularly amused, but Emma meant buisness, and if you know Emma, she´s not to be messed with if tired, cold and hungry!
We arrived back at the house in the pitch dark. Struggling with the big bunch of keys, trying not to jump at all the strange noises that old houses make, we managed to find our way to bed to sleep in a war(ish) room on matresses and have a shower the following morning! Bliss!
Sunday, 10 July 2011
Macchu Picchu -. whose idea was it anyway?
Macchu Picchu - the best of times, the worst of times (actually it wasn´t that bad, but aiming for dramatic effect!)
Roo suggested we went on a 4 day trek to Macchu Picchu whilst still recovering from giardia. I said she was off her head mad and we should get the train, but she insisted and if you know Roo, persistence (not to be confused with stubborness) is a fine character trait of hers, along with patience (HA!)
We just got back from Macchu Picchu yesterday. It was increible. We started off at 4,000 meters in the snow and mountain biked into the jungle at 1200 meters on the first day. All the food and accomodation was included, but we had to carry water and all our clothes and given that we really did experience 4 seasons in one day, that was quite a lot! The accomodation - oh my days - basic doesn´t do it justice. The first night we shared with 3 computer programmers (all male), two from Holland and one from India, who had lived in LA since he was 19. All tremendously sweet people, except for their snoring, which was EPIC! No sleep at all. They remain sweet people, but I´d rather share a room with a herd of elephants!
The 2nd day started early, up at 6.30, to a breakfast of banana pancakes, which was delicious and off walking by 7.30. When Ebid (our guide) said we would be walking for 9 hours, I just assumed he was exaggerating, so in this mistaken belief, we all dorbed war paint from a plant used for dying alpaca wool (it´s just come off my face) and started enthusiastically up the track. We mananged to leave Ed a postman from England behind and had to go back for him: For Ed, the whole experience must have been a busman´s holiday as we walked and we walked, first through the jungle, then through the jungle up a moauntain, then down the mountain through the jungle and across a number of Indiana Jones style precarious bridges. Roo said she wanted to throw herself off the edge on a number of occassions as she was so tired, it would have a been easy to do, as health and safety regulations have yet to reach Peru, but thankfully she didn´t and we stuck together through it all.
Finally we reached the river and as the shadows lengthened and the end came mericfully in to view, we were taken literally (and metaphorically) for a ride across the river on a cable car, pulled by hand (uno sole por favor!), then on to the hot springs,changing behind and hut (losing our dignity for the 2nd time in a fortnight) - but it was worth it. Roo was in a really bad way - walking isn´t her thing. Hurting people on a rugby pitch is her thing - it doesn´t really transfer as a skill in this situation. We arrived in Santa Teresa and were delighted to find we had a room to ourselves and the door in the room, which I assuned to be a cupboard, was in fact a bathroom! Oh the JOY! The water, alas was cold, but we braved a shower anyway. Dinner was a subduded affair, which was enlivened when the two auusies, two scots, two Beligians all ordered Pisco Sours and went to the discotechque. Roo was still on anti-biotics, and as I get drunk on a rum truffle we decided to retire to our salubrious accomodation and we were in bed by 9pm. At 2am, we were awoken to a rendition of Oasis Wonderwall, followed by a romp through hits of the ´80´s and ´90´s by the kids returning from the club!
Day 3, another pancacke breakfast and a short taxi ride to the zip line station, zip lining down 6 cables along the canyon, which I´m gutted to say we didn´t do because Roo was poorly, but it looked amazing, with each cable being 2000 ft in the air. This was followed by another 3 hour trek along the river around Macchu Picchu mountain. Roo by this time had lost all feeling in her legs and feet, so marched on, shut off from the world by her ipod like a woman possessed. I couldn´t keep up with her. We arrived in Aguas Callientus at 3pm. The sole purpose of this town is to support the tourist trade of Macchu Picchu, every shop is geared to sell things for toursits, you even have to walk a secretious route through the covered market to get to the train station. They even have a special tax, just for tourists! The day we arrived was the 100th anniversary of Hiram Bingham ´discovering´ Macchu Picchu, even though there were indigenous families living there already! There was a huge celebration in the town and at Macchu Picchu and according to Ebid, Lady Gaga and Chakira where performing there. We never found out of this was true, but there was certainly a big party going down up there! The accomodation was the worst yet. It´s hard to express in words, except to say that the only saving grace was that there was a hot shower. We hung the wet towels out to dry overnight and in the morning, they were more wet than they had been. The whole room was damp beyond belief and by all accounts, we were really lucky with the room we were given. Some of our fellow travellers had a window, with no glass, which is actually just a hole in the wall and froze all night.
Day 4: up at 2.45 am to get the 5.30 bus to Macchu Picchu. Most of the group walked the 2000 steps to the top of Macchu Picchu mountain, and we take our collective hats off to them but by now, we were both so tired and Roo was stiill recovering from Gairdia that so we elected to take the bus. We arrived at Macchu Picchu at 6am, queued to get tickets to Wynapicchu, the mountain that overlooks Macchu Picchu, but the allocation of 400 had mercifully gone before we got to the front of the queue. We had a tour of the site until 9.15ish and fell asleep in the sun until 11.30 - BIG mistake! Dazed from sunstroke, we had a little more wandering left in our legs and negotiated the hundreds of steps over this incredible site. Exhausted, we got the bus back down the mountain, ready to catch the 6.15 train to Ollyatatambo, before finding Bus Pedro to get us back to Cusco for 11pm. It was the most brilliant and exhausting thing we´ve ever done and apart from the organisation and awful accomodation I wouldn´t change a thing (I´m not sure Roo would agree however!)
What we have learnt during our time in Peru
The spanish are disliked here, a abit like the English are disliked by the Scots ;). The Quechua are very bitter about the invasion 500 years ago, and haven´t got over it at all. Everyone claims to be a Quechuan which infers they are related to the lost incas (Kings of the inca culture), in a similar way that some people in England like to think they are a direct decendant of King Arthur!
Apparently there are 3 ways to get rich in Peru, become a drug dealer - coca plant is everywhere and farmers make a lot of more money selling it to the drug manufactures than the government. Number two, become a politician. The police and government are completely corrupt and if you´re in charge you can do anything. Everyone is open to a bribe and it´s part of the way things get done, or not as the case may be. And finally, find Inca gold. The museum here is full of enormous pots which were filled with gold, made as offerings to the gods by the incas. The pots are there, but the gold is gone. All the kids want to become archeologists or anthropolgists so they can excavate and take what they find. There are stories everywhere of porters and tour guides becoming wealthy having found Inca gold in the jungle and selling it on the black market. Who knows if any of this is true, but there were 32 candidates for the local mayor elections in Cuzco and coca plants are everywhere, and there isn´t a single piece of gold in the inca musem (I checked!)
Never the less, Peru has character, a bit like a wayward child has character. I like it here and would come back again definitely.
On to volunteer placement number 3!
Vamos Amigos!
Loads of love to all,
Emma and Roo xxx
Roo suggested we went on a 4 day trek to Macchu Picchu whilst still recovering from giardia. I said she was off her head mad and we should get the train, but she insisted and if you know Roo, persistence (not to be confused with stubborness) is a fine character trait of hers, along with patience (HA!)
We just got back from Macchu Picchu yesterday. It was increible. We started off at 4,000 meters in the snow and mountain biked into the jungle at 1200 meters on the first day. All the food and accomodation was included, but we had to carry water and all our clothes and given that we really did experience 4 seasons in one day, that was quite a lot! The accomodation - oh my days - basic doesn´t do it justice. The first night we shared with 3 computer programmers (all male), two from Holland and one from India, who had lived in LA since he was 19. All tremendously sweet people, except for their snoring, which was EPIC! No sleep at all. They remain sweet people, but I´d rather share a room with a herd of elephants!
The 2nd day started early, up at 6.30, to a breakfast of banana pancakes, which was delicious and off walking by 7.30. When Ebid (our guide) said we would be walking for 9 hours, I just assumed he was exaggerating, so in this mistaken belief, we all dorbed war paint from a plant used for dying alpaca wool (it´s just come off my face) and started enthusiastically up the track. We mananged to leave Ed a postman from England behind and had to go back for him: For Ed, the whole experience must have been a busman´s holiday as we walked and we walked, first through the jungle, then through the jungle up a moauntain, then down the mountain through the jungle and across a number of Indiana Jones style precarious bridges. Roo said she wanted to throw herself off the edge on a number of occassions as she was so tired, it would have a been easy to do, as health and safety regulations have yet to reach Peru, but thankfully she didn´t and we stuck together through it all.
Finally we reached the river and as the shadows lengthened and the end came mericfully in to view, we were taken literally (and metaphorically) for a ride across the river on a cable car, pulled by hand (uno sole por favor!), then on to the hot springs,changing behind and hut (losing our dignity for the 2nd time in a fortnight) - but it was worth it. Roo was in a really bad way - walking isn´t her thing. Hurting people on a rugby pitch is her thing - it doesn´t really transfer as a skill in this situation. We arrived in Santa Teresa and were delighted to find we had a room to ourselves and the door in the room, which I assuned to be a cupboard, was in fact a bathroom! Oh the JOY! The water, alas was cold, but we braved a shower anyway. Dinner was a subduded affair, which was enlivened when the two auusies, two scots, two Beligians all ordered Pisco Sours and went to the discotechque. Roo was still on anti-biotics, and as I get drunk on a rum truffle we decided to retire to our salubrious accomodation and we were in bed by 9pm. At 2am, we were awoken to a rendition of Oasis Wonderwall, followed by a romp through hits of the ´80´s and ´90´s by the kids returning from the club!
 |
| Maybe we should have trained for this! |
Day 3, another pancacke breakfast and a short taxi ride to the zip line station, zip lining down 6 cables along the canyon, which I´m gutted to say we didn´t do because Roo was poorly, but it looked amazing, with each cable being 2000 ft in the air. This was followed by another 3 hour trek along the river around Macchu Picchu mountain. Roo by this time had lost all feeling in her legs and feet, so marched on, shut off from the world by her ipod like a woman possessed. I couldn´t keep up with her. We arrived in Aguas Callientus at 3pm. The sole purpose of this town is to support the tourist trade of Macchu Picchu, every shop is geared to sell things for toursits, you even have to walk a secretious route through the covered market to get to the train station. They even have a special tax, just for tourists! The day we arrived was the 100th anniversary of Hiram Bingham ´discovering´ Macchu Picchu, even though there were indigenous families living there already! There was a huge celebration in the town and at Macchu Picchu and according to Ebid, Lady Gaga and Chakira where performing there. We never found out of this was true, but there was certainly a big party going down up there! The accomodation was the worst yet. It´s hard to express in words, except to say that the only saving grace was that there was a hot shower. We hung the wet towels out to dry overnight and in the morning, they were more wet than they had been. The whole room was damp beyond belief and by all accounts, we were really lucky with the room we were given. Some of our fellow travellers had a window, with no glass, which is actually just a hole in the wall and froze all night.
Day 4: up at 2.45 am to get the 5.30 bus to Macchu Picchu. Most of the group walked the 2000 steps to the top of Macchu Picchu mountain, and we take our collective hats off to them but by now, we were both so tired and Roo was stiill recovering from Gairdia that so we elected to take the bus. We arrived at Macchu Picchu at 6am, queued to get tickets to Wynapicchu, the mountain that overlooks Macchu Picchu, but the allocation of 400 had mercifully gone before we got to the front of the queue. We had a tour of the site until 9.15ish and fell asleep in the sun until 11.30 - BIG mistake! Dazed from sunstroke, we had a little more wandering left in our legs and negotiated the hundreds of steps over this incredible site. Exhausted, we got the bus back down the mountain, ready to catch the 6.15 train to Ollyatatambo, before finding Bus Pedro to get us back to Cusco for 11pm. It was the most brilliant and exhausting thing we´ve ever done and apart from the organisation and awful accomodation I wouldn´t change a thing (I´m not sure Roo would agree however!)
What we have learnt during our time in Peru
The spanish are disliked here, a abit like the English are disliked by the Scots ;). The Quechua are very bitter about the invasion 500 years ago, and haven´t got over it at all. Everyone claims to be a Quechuan which infers they are related to the lost incas (Kings of the inca culture), in a similar way that some people in England like to think they are a direct decendant of King Arthur!
Apparently there are 3 ways to get rich in Peru, become a drug dealer - coca plant is everywhere and farmers make a lot of more money selling it to the drug manufactures than the government. Number two, become a politician. The police and government are completely corrupt and if you´re in charge you can do anything. Everyone is open to a bribe and it´s part of the way things get done, or not as the case may be. And finally, find Inca gold. The museum here is full of enormous pots which were filled with gold, made as offerings to the gods by the incas. The pots are there, but the gold is gone. All the kids want to become archeologists or anthropolgists so they can excavate and take what they find. There are stories everywhere of porters and tour guides becoming wealthy having found Inca gold in the jungle and selling it on the black market. Who knows if any of this is true, but there were 32 candidates for the local mayor elections in Cuzco and coca plants are everywhere, and there isn´t a single piece of gold in the inca musem (I checked!)
Never the less, Peru has character, a bit like a wayward child has character. I like it here and would come back again definitely.
On to volunteer placement number 3!
Vamos Amigos!
Loads of love to all,
Emma and Roo xxx
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