It sounded good to a lady on our tour: suckling pig. Perhaps the Segovia style with onions, potatoes (3,000 varieties in Peru!), carrots, white wine. Or maybe the Hawaiian version with banana leaves and all the fixings.
So she ordered it and waited for tender pork to spill onto her plate.
Imagine her surprise when a very small pig showed up whole perched over a layer of potatoes (3,000 varieties!). And what is this? she asked.
“Cuy,” the waiter said. “Guinea pig.”
Quite a surprise, but the woman ate it and found it satisfying. “Like white meat on chicken.”
I thought it tasted and looked more like dark meat, like the thigh of a chicken. We had our adventure with cuy the first night we were in Cuzco when we had dinner with a former colleague and her husband. We had found out through Facebook that they would be in Cuzco when we were there. This is the second time we have met Carol unexpectedly while traveling; the first one was in Avignon in France in 1982.
Carol and Kathy had alpaca steak, and the men decided to split a guinea pig. There is not much meat to pig out on, but we ate it down to its rib cage and left the head untouched.
Guinea pigs are raised like chickens by many families in the Andean highlands, our guide said.
An adventure in eating, but we are still no threat to those in the USSA who keep guinea pigs as pets.
Cuzco, Peru, Monday, Sept. 24, 2018 – We arrived in Cuzco, Peru, today, a city of 500,000 in the Cuzco state of about one million residents. This was once the capital of the Inca Empire of about 12 million people that covered from present-day Ecuador down to about half of Chile.
In the center of the main square now is a statue of Pachacutec, the Inca ruler responsible for binding that empire together from the different groups of people who lived there in the mid-fifteenth century.
Opposite Pachacutec’s statue on the “Plaza de Armas” is, of course, a church, this one built on top of an Inca palace. When we arrived there, the Iglesia de La Compañía de Jesús (built by Jesuits) was celebrating. My devout Catholic wife says one of those statues they were carting around was maybe Saint Francis.
However, on the day we were there, the saint calendar held out many saints, martyrs from the Spanish Civil Wars and numerous other people that could have been celebrated. There was a band, a procession and statues. Pachacutec did not participate.
The band above may not be The Best Damn Band in the Land, but I had to keep shooting to see how the sousaphone player was doing. Did not dot the i in Francis.
From there, we went to the Museo Machu Picchu, home to the largest collection of Machu Picchu artifacts in the world. Housed in a colonial home, the Casa Concha, the museum includes the artifacts dug up by Hiram Bingham, generally described as the man who discovered this ancient Inca ruin. Bingham sent what he found there in 1911, 1912 and 1915 back to Yale University with the promise that they would be returned to Peru when the research was done. About 100 years later, they found their way to Peru.
Our newest Alexander + Roberts guide, Yakelin, explained that Bingham had no archeologists with him and no plan on how to go about the dig.
“He paid the people working for him one sol (Peru currency now worth three to a dollar) for every skeleton they could find,” she said. “so the farmers dug everywhere.”
The 174 skeletons they did find apparently came from important people in the Inca society – no broken bones, little evidence of hard work.
Some of the bodies discovered were probably mummies, important to the Incas. The mummies of rulers were brought out for festivals, had servants and were “sustained by offerings of food and drink,” according to John Hemming’s book, “The Conquest of the Incas.”
The Spaniards burned mummies, used them to lure Incas from the highlands to the new capital at Lima, where the mummies were never found, said Yakelin. The conquerors hoped the mummies could be replaced by images of the Virgin Mary.
Yakelin said that many of the bodies found at Machu Picchu were buried or in caves, opening to the underground world.
Which led to the subject of human sacrifice. Yes, Yakelin said, the Incas did sacrifice humans, mostly children in the worst of times – quakes, eruptions and natural disasters. The children were raised separately, fed only corn and families considered it an honor to have a child sacrificed. None of our group offered up any children.
The unfinished city was ordered to be built by Pachacutec about 100 years before it was abandoned. Five different groups of people were discovered to have lived there, representing the way Pachacutec brought together his empire, gathering knowledge from other districts and then incorporating them.
There was some metal work done at Machu Picchu, but no gold was found there. Was it a religious site without riches? Or, did the Incas take it with them when they abandoned the city in the face of the Spanish conquest?
No need for that as the Spaniards never found Machu Picchu.
Lima, Peru, Sunday, September 23, 2018 — “There are about 45,000 artifacts in the Museo Larco,” said Sheila, our Alexander + Roberts guide to Lima, Peru, “and you will see about 38,000 of them.”
The full name of the Museo Larco is the Museo Arqueológico Rafael Larco Herrera. In 1926, at the age of 25, Rafael Larco Hoyle founded the museum. Today it is an overwhelming display of pre-Columbian artifacts. Actually, they are mostly pre-Incan because the Spaniards destroyed most of the Inca work in their search for riches. Golden art works were melted down and either shipped to Spain or stuck in the conquistadors’ pockets. Not gold? Those were discarded.
There were a few gold pieces, mostly mixed with copper for stability.
The museum offers row after row of clay faces, “the cultures’ form of writing,” Sheila said.
Examples of ancient textiles included a rug that was 3,000 years old.
Sheila did not accompany us into the “Salon exotica.” Not sure what she would have said in there. But she led us to the door and said, “That’s a part of life as well.”
It’s an interesting job she has. She works as a freelance guide to work all year. She studied tourism for a degree and then studied English for three years in a language school.
She will drop our group off at the airport tomorrow (5 a.m. wake-up call!) and then pick up a new group in the afternoon to tour Lima. Upcoming trips include a week in Cusco and then a cruise in the Amazon region. When she goes outside the Lima area she turns the guiding over to a local person (as they do for her in Lima) and serves more as a facilitator, coordinating transportation, hotels, boarding passes and all the other things one of our tour identified as “sure nice to be babysat for awhile.”
Sheila also provided a birthday celebration that night at the dinner at the museum to our oldest member who turned 83. Excellent meal of an appetizer of potatoes (3,000 varieties in Peru), chicken salad, olives and a quail egg on top. Entrée was rice with seafood (shrimp and scallops) with pasta in tomato sauce and creamed dessert of a fruit similar to avocado (lucuma?) that tasted like butterscotch.
Loved having Sheila as our guide with her amazing knowledge of the city and the museum, often stopping to point out some of the masks that had been restored. And my favorite quote from her concerned the obnoxious habit of Lima drivers to rely heavily on their horns: “Honking horns is like our national anthem.”
Lima, Peru, Sunday, September 23, 2018 — Francisco Pizarro probably never worried about whether he had a right to conquest Peru or how the Catholic religion would fit into what he did there. But before he garroted Atahualpa, the Inca leader, in 1533, the debate had been waged for 20 years in Spain.
According to John Hemming’s book, “The Conquest of the Incas,”Pope Alexander had divided the lands new to the Europeans by giving Spain most of South America and Portugal got Africa and Brazil. Some interpreted that as where the Europeans could spread their faith. Others argued that invasion for wealth was just fine. So proselytizing and profits entered these lands together along with something called the Requirement, the result of the decades-old debate.
This document was to be read to those about to die unless they agreed to acknowledge the Catholic church and the Pope, accept the king of Spain as their ruler and allow the Christian faith to be preached there. If not, the Spaniards could “‘do all the harm and damage that we can,’ including the enslavement of wives and children, and robbery of possessions.” And, get this, “And we protest that the deaths and losses which shall result from this are your fault.”
“These numbers are dropping all over the world,” she said.
Probably true given some of the problems facing the church today, but this forced-down religion took hold here with 80 percent of the population identifying themselves as Catholic.
Sheila says that the Catholic church succeeds in Peru by mixing itself with nature (later evidence of that in a later blog post). Yakelin, who will be our A + R guide in Cusco and Machu Picchu, high in the Andean region, says that about 50 percent of the people there practice both some Inca religion along with their Catholicism. Given that the Inca empire mostly occupied the highland area, it’s probably not surprising that the native religion remains in some part.
The Convent of Santo Domingo has a library I want, mosaics for my walls and a courtyard to match. If not, I will do all the harm and damage that I can. Losses which shall result from this are your fault.
Lima, Peru, Monday, Sept. 24, 2018 — No use trying to walk by a newspaper stand without buying a paper, even if it is in a language I barely understand and it will take me a week to ready a daily. So in the Lima, Peru, airport, I bought a copy of Peru 21, hoping it would help with my Spanish.
And I can’t go past a story about politics, even if it’s about the Oct. 7 mayoral race in Lima. The debate was the night before I picked up the paper, and the coverage was excellent. Ten candidates for the office, but one of them, Renzo Reggiardo, from the Peni Patria Segura party refused to join in, saying he would not “sentar en el mismo lugar con personas que me han agraviado.” (sit in the same place with persons that have aggrieved me). Think of his honor, he said, and refused “to play.”
The paper quoted the other candidates’ statements on their vision for Lima in 2022, security and transportation. Politicians here sounded a lot like those in the USSA, promising life with “segura, para vivir sin miedo,” order, work on transportation projects (“El transito es caotico”) without much detail on how to accomplish security to live without fear, transportation or a vision in 2022 or any other time.
Did Reggiardo’s protest work? Especially since a poll by the paper said 83 percent would not pay attention to the debate, another similarity to the USSA. You remember the midterm elections are coming soon, right? Pay attention.
The election was Tuesday, and Reggiardo got beat by Jorge Munoz from the Accion Popular, with Peru 21’s sister paper, Trome, saying Reggiardo’s biggest mistake was “quizá el error más evidente de todos fue no presentarse en el primer debate electoral” (perhaps the error most obvious of all was not being present at the first electoral debate).
Back in the USSA, you dunno how lucky you are, boy, a friend told me, to miss the news of the past two weeks when the Greedy Old Peckers took over the last branch of USSA government to give them the economic security to hang on to their riches in a nation headed for moral bankruptcy. Sort of like what they said about the path that guy in Europe took to keep the trains running on time -– even though they didn’t always go where the riders wanted them to go.
But let’s get back to where we’ve been visiting the past two weeks. That’s where the Really Greedy Old Peckers showed what a combination of religion, horses, armor and avarice could do to people who stood between them and the gold. Let’s start with Lima, Peru. Back in 1535, Francisco Pizarro founded the city where he would be murdered by folks even more greedy than he was.
Today, it’s a city that houses 10 million of the 30 million in Peru, mostly in apartments. Our excellent Alexander & Roberts guide, Sheila, explained that Pizarro came from Andalusia in Spain and styled his city after what was built there – walled houses with courtyards. After independence in 1821 and a flush of railroad money, the buildings took on the look of French architecture. Today, many of the older, bigger homes have been taken over to be used for businesses and embassies.
Lima is divided into 43 neighborhoods, six with ocean views. Each neighborhood has its own mayor, and there is one for the entire city. With 25 political parties in Peru, getting signs up for all 43 mayoral candidates plus the Big Enchilada took over most of the billboard and empty wall space in the city for the elections on October 7. There is a $30 fine for those who don’t vote, applicable to anyone between the ages of 18 and 70. After that Golden Age, citizens can “volunteer” to vote.
The rate of illiteracy in Peru, says Sheila, is 8 to 13 percent of the population; the government clings to the 8 percent figure. There are 143 universities in Peru, and Sheila graduated from one of them with a degree in tourism. All guides are required to have a degree, which was very apparent in the breadth and depth of knowledge our guides had in Peru and Ecuador in everything from how people lived to archeology, architecture and politics.
The security in the city was not terribly noticeable, but it was there, as Sheila pointed out. The increased security was the Peruvian answer to the Sendero Luminoso, the Shining Path, a Maoist terrorist group that made this a dangerous place to visit – or live – in the 1980s and ’90s.
“The Sendero Luminoso took advantage of the poor people,” she said, “forcing them to join or be killed.”
She seemed quite proud that the country did not compromise with the terrorists or accept any of their reforms (as Colombia did with FARC, she pointed out). Peru captured the groups’ leaders, threw them in jail on life sentences and installed heavy security. She pointed to the lighted cross erected to mark the visit of Pope John Paul II in 1985 and 1988 (81 percent Catholic, says the CIA Factbook, the best thing that organization ever did. And more on religion in a later post). The cross shines out over the city from a hill in the harbor, which Pizarro chose to ship gold he stole from the Incas. The cross was built from electrical transformer parts blown up by the Sendero Luminoso. So this cross has become a sign of peace rather than the banner under which the Spaniards slaughtered and conquered the Incas.
Sheila told us the main industry of the country is still mining and then agriculture. The minimum wage is $300 a month, with $500 a month being the average. Food is still affordable (and quite good), but transportation costs are expensive – and roads are hugely congested with people taking two to three hours each way to get from homes to work (sounds like Seattle). On the way to the airport, we hit the road around 6 in the morning to escape from buses, trucks and thousands of cars. Not entirely successful, but we did make it on time for our flight to Cusco.
Put eight friends together, add a good wilderness host, a great river and a well maintained trail for four days of rafting and hiking — minus the fires — and you’ve got a winning combination of summer fun. We set out on July 25, 2018, for the Rogue River in southern Oregon, and here’s a quick summary of a trip you ought to consider:
Thursday, July 26, 2018: Smokey because of the nearby forest fires and our guides, Dan and Ben, reminded us to leave our car keys behind in case they needed to move our cars at the Morrisons Rogue River Lodge near Merlin, OR. With a warning that we would be exposed to the sun while hiking, we set off on a five-mile trek. And it was hot — over 100 degrees. Lots of ups and downs. Stopped to view the Whiskey Creek cabin, whose last resident miner lived there from 1956 to 1973. We could have hiked farther or get in the rafts. We chose rafts. Nice seat upfront with lots of looks straight down to the bottom of the waves as we went through rapids. Swam twice with a nice float down to Black Bar Lodge.
Friday, July 27, 2018: Breakfast at 8 and we had our bags packed so Dan could take us across the river for that day’s hiking by 9 a.m. Long switchbacks up to the trail and then four miles of mostly flat path, cooler morning and more shade. I thought we might default to the raft early, but instead we chose to hike another three miles. Last half hour was very hot, and lunch came just in time. Kathy and I got the “Princess cruise” seat in the gear boat — no paddling. Dinner at Marial Lodge with the rowdy San Diego crew, who were doing an all-rafting trip. Nice talk on the porch under a faraway osprey nest, which you might notice in the video above (thank you iMovie for this preview of a slideshow). Rob shot that with his camera through a scope zeroed in on the nest. Nicely done.
Saturday, July 28, 2018: All hiking today, either 5.9 miles (according to Dan) or 9.2 miles (according to Barb’s GPS). Dan, of course, stuck by his estimate, pointing out that with no cell service GPS didn’t work here. When someone pointed out that would probably mean less mileage recorded, Dan had an answer to that, too: The signal gets bounced back and forth, meaning you get twice as many miles than you walked. Several stops on the trail today: Up the Mule Creek canyon, toured the Rogue River Ranch (restored in 2016), jumped off cliffs into the swimming hole, visited the Zane Grey cabin and saw a bear before heading on to the Paradise Bar Lodge where Dan and Ben served a great lunch of sandwiches on homemade bread from the Marial Lodge, chips and cookies. While sitting on the veranda of the Paradise Bar Lodge, we watched a deer swim across the river. Dinner, lots of jokes and stories on the veranda.
Sunday, July 29, 2018: Great last day: five miles hiking, couple of big rapids on the river and lots of floating in the Rogue. Taco salad for lunch. Trail mostly flat with not much exposure to the sun. Looking down into the rock canyon on this part of the trail made me want to see the whole river from the raft — which we plan for 2019. Back in the water for a nice float to the take out spot. While on the ride back to Morrison, we were told that the lodge had been evacuated because of fires and our cars had been moved. We had planned to stay there, but they had booked us a place in Roseburg, about 50 miles north of there. Kinda crazy at Merlin that day with reservations being remade, boats coming in, cars parked here and there and unpacking to get done. Gotta say that if Rogue Wilderness Adventures can get through all that without making you feel like one more trivial piece in a world of impending disasters, they have got their shit together. Can’t wait for a return trip.
We woke up to rain this morning, our first day of it on the whole trip. However, using our weather apps and some luck, the bike riders avoided all of it. The app showed that the rain would end in Lisbon at 7 a.m. and in Fargo – the end point! – at 10 a.m. So it looked like we might be able to sneak in behind it and never catch up with it (as if we ever caught up with any thing).
So we trucked to the route and started biking around 7 or 7:30 at Enderlin, ND. We never had a drop fall on us. Don, in the truck ahead of us, said he had quite a rainfall hit him when he was parked in Kindred, ND.
We also had less wind today although the forecast called for 14 mph winds from the east. Mostly hit us as side winds when heading north and much less than the last couple days.
AND . . . the afore-promised table-top flatness finally showed up – like as flat as good old Northwest Ohio, where I learned to ride a bike and never got used to hills. And trees, too, finally.
Not that anyone was going to stop riding on this day, the last day of the trip.
We got into Fargo on a flat bike trail around 2 p.m. Nice lunch at the Island Park and then rode the last two miles to the motel. Loved the downtown of Fargo, had a nice dinner at the Boiler Room, which is hard to find but worth the trip, and then spent the evening repacking for the next adventure.
Here’s the trip summary:
From Great Falls, MT, to Fargo, ND:
Mary Jo rode 707 miles, John rode 679.5 miles.
Longest day: 86.2 miles
Shortest day: 40 miles.
MJ’s list of 48 Lower States ridden across: 46 of 48.
The sign said the restaurant opened for breakfast at 6 a.m., and we were up at 5:30 to have an early meal and a good start on the day – maybe before the winds came up. But the signs were wrong. and it did not open until 7 a.m.
So we left Don behind to pick up some breakfast at Mabel’s Bakery and started out. Breakfast caught up with us about 10 miles down the road. It was the coolest morning yet, and the first time I rode with my jacket out. Some wind and lots of up and down – still no table tops to guide across two days out of Bismarck.
It still looked like doing all 97 scheduled miles for the day would be a possibility. That was before the wind picked up to 17 mph and blew out of the east and north. Whatever happened to the west wind.
“Secret and malign forces throbbed about us; forces against which we had no armor,” said Sax Rohmer in “The Insidious Dr. Fu Manchu,” speaking of everything that comes out of the East without delving into his racial statements.
As the winds came up, our speed came down. Never got above 13 mph the rest of the day. Thirty-eight miles down the road in Gackle, ND, we met our second and third bike riders, two Ohio students riding to Seattle. Gave them my name and told them to look us up for a place to stay when they get there in August. Hope I remember them. Just say, “Gackle.”
I abandoned the ride at 47 miles, Mary Jo made it to an even 50. Back in the truck, it seemed flatter, the wind less strong. Everything looks flat as you zoom across the landscape in a vehicle, and the wind barely seems to be rustling the leaves in the trees. Out on a bike, the topography and weather undergo drastic changes.
We trucked into Lisbon, a town of about 2,300 people that was having its “Happy Days” celebration. The motel clerk told us about the rib cook-off downtown, and we went off to judge which one was the best. Didn’t get to try all 11 of them, but I did my darned (liked Number 2 from South Dakota). Corn on the cob, too.
So here we are out with all the town’s blue-haired ladies and many kids, having a great time eating and talking to neighbors. I did wonder though about the cooks’ T-shirts at some of the stands: “If I rub your butt, you can pull my pork.” Or maybe this one: “When you get my meat in your mouth, you are going to want to swallow.”
The cook off was sponsored by the LIQ’R PIGZ Motorcycle Club, which may not be the Emily Post of refined language, but most of the cooking teams were the ones wearing the shirts.
Never one to stifle language, of course, but it did make me wonder, “Are we becoming a more crass nation?”
Still some wind today, but much easier than yesterday. It got stronger toward the end of the 72.1-mile ride and winding our way through the ponds outside of Napoleon brought us face up into the wind.
And about those “table tops” we’d be sailing across after we got past Bismarck? No signs of them today.
But we were on the “Lawrence Welk Highway” today, which brought back many memories. Thought of my Grandma Saul, who sat down in front of these TV shows every night, long after they had gone off the air leaving only reruns to go on and on forever. If they aren’t still there and if she were still alive today, she’d be searching for the Lemon Sisters and Jo Ann Castle on Youtube.
We did love Grandma back then, but at the time, we had little good to say about Mr. Welk and his music. Wonder if we’ll be sitting around looking for American Bandstand, Shindig and Soul Train reruns in our older days? Maybe not yet.
Napoleon had a special ring to it for those of us who grew up in Henry County, Ohio, whose county seat was also named Napoleon, the dreaded arch rival back in the day for those who grew up nine miles down the road in Liberty Center, which is not some shopping center that came along much later.
Not so friendly coming out of Bismarck, where the sure-to-show-up on any bike ride is some jackass yelling out the window at they speed by you. Made me wish we were back in friendly Montana.
But in Napoleon, ND, they were getting ready for a parade of old tractors the next morning, and several of them were out cruising the town that night. Every tractor driver I ever met was friendly and always gave a wave. Same here.