I’ve never been that interested in Halloween, even in college. Very rarely did I dress up. This year was no exception, especially since I live in a country that doesn’t celebrate it. However, my roommate K was intent on carving a pumpkin. I told her that I’d never carved a pumpkin before, to which her hilarious answer was “Who carves the pumpkins in your house?”
The plan was for me to go to Cusco, get a bunch of errands done and come home in time to deal with the pumpkin with her and my other roommates. All was on schedule, until I got to the bus station. All buses to Ollantaytambo were sold out (I forgot that the next day was All Saints Day, with everything shut down and everyone traveling like mad). I finally got a seat on a bus to Urubamba, a town about half an hour from Ollanta. I got the seat up front with the driver. It was raining like hell and behind me on the bus were all full seats and people standing in the aisles for the 2-hour trip.
The bus stopped several times as we first got started thanks to intense fog. Then we finally seemed to get rolling–we were about half an hour out of Cusco–and the grinding noise started. The driver looked panicky. The bus screeched to a halt on the side of some god forsaken road in the middle of nowhere. It was pouring rain, and the words “no servicio” on my cell phone.
I waited patiently. I didn’t panic. There was a small child traveling alone, maybe eight years old, who was crying and screaming uncontrollably. A woman was giving a treatise on what a killing the bus company was making off of our misfortune. We sat for more than an hour, until the driver told us another bus was coming–to take us back to Cuzco. This didn’t help me at all… I had nowhere to stay in Cuzco, about $5 in my pocket and no way to go to Ollanta.
So I did what any self-respecting female foreigner does when stranded alone in the dark on Halloween in a foreign country. I stuck out my thumb. A few cars passed and didn’t stop. Then one did. I ran towards it, and so did a small pack of Peruvians who had noticed me. It was a husband, wife and small child. I immediately got in, swallowing hard and gripping my cell phone and hoping for a bar of service. We took an extremely long, foggy ride on the cliff-side highways. They left me in Urubamba and I gave them five soles for their trouble. We did not talk, despite my efforts. From Urubamba I caught an outrageously expensive taxi to Ollantaytambo.
When I got home, the pumpkin had been carved and everyone stared at me as I burst in the door, soaking wet, still scared and ready for hot soup and my warm bed.
At least my Halloween was memorable this year, eh?
Yesterday we went to a lechón (pig) festival in Haurocondo, a town way the fuck up in the mountains of the Sacred Valley. S, my roommate, is the godfather of a child up there so he came along. He pointed out the most fascinating sites along the way–”that site is more important than Machu Picchu,”–”there’s a ceremonial Inca cave there still used by the locals,”–”there are cave paintings all over this mountain.” Incredible! And the best part is that we’re all going to check some of the stuff out sometime soon.
We got to the town, which was happily feasting on pig, bread, chicha and beer. We went to S’s family’s house, where we were handed huge cups of chicha–the first of several. We walked to the plaza, ate pig, played games, talked, laughed, danced to huayno and got drunk. Really drunk. The family kept bringing us two-liter bottles of beer. In all, ten 2 liters were consumed, as well as several cups of chicha each. Not to mention the intoxicating salty lechón! Unfortunately, K’s camera and wallet were stolen, but honestly it was kind of stupid of her to bring those things anyway. S spent the day spoiling his godchild and identifying the kid as the luckiest bastard in town–most godfathers can’t afford to take the kid to pick out any candy he wants, or to buy him little rubber dinosaurs, and it was really nice to watch.
