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For a quick break from all the animal action, I took an overnight trip with a few friends to see the ancient Mayan ruins at Tikal. The ruins are only about an hour drive away from ARCAS.
For the final two weeks of my time in Cusco I volunteering in the afternoons with young kids at a local after school program. In reality it'd hard to call it such a program because most of these kids really didn't go to school. They were very poor, wore the same clothes every day, and had rotting teeth already. They generally were between the ages of 3-10. But despite all their hardships at such a young age, they all were adorable and I fell in love with them immediately.
Getting to the volunteer location was an adventure in and of itself. I had to take the local El Dorado bus, and that involved hopping onto a bus made for ten people with about twenty-five people already sitting and standing. We drove through back alleys and cobblestone streets, and about half an hour later I would hop off with my lungs filled with exhaust. But it's always fun experiencing a new adventure.
I knew working with these kids would be tough because kids can always be that way, but you cannot forget about the language barrier. I have a hard time understanding little kids when they speak english, and now I had to try and figure out what these kids were mumbling in spanish. Half the time I had no idea what they were saying, and there was plenty of head nodding and saying yes. Lord knows I probably said "Yes, I love putting yogurt in my ears while dancing on hot coals." Oh well.
Each afternoon I worked with a friend of mine who also volunteered at this site to prepare the day's activity for the kids in the arts and crafts room. We had to choose a project and set everything up for the 30 or so kids that would come into our room. There was also the homework and sports room, but we were the most popular place to be. We had projects such as making masks and hats, origami and making cootie catchers, and decorating ornaments to put on xmas trees and hang from the ceiling.
The first day the kids asked what my name was and I told them Alex. They looked at me very confused, but I wasn't sure why. The asked again the next day, and when I responded Alejandro they all knew exactly what I was talking about. Ale really isn't a shorthand way to say Alex, so I just went by my full name the rest of the time. Luckily for me they actually called us--the volunteers--professor most days, or profe for short. It was insanely cute, I loved it.
Some of the kids even expressed an interest to learn english (why it isn't taught in their schools I have no idea). So for the second week I was there we took some of the kids each day to another room to teach them the alphabet, typical greetings, colors, fruits, and other random words they thought up ("How do I say ugly?".....then they would point to someone and say "You're ugly."...maybe I shouldn't have told them the answer).
Despite the language barrier and the one or two meltdowns kids had with fighting and screaming, the experience with these little boys and girls was nothing short of incredible. Even with all the adversity they faced they showed up with smiles on their faces and energy to create something to show a parent; each day they created something they were very proud of. They truly were inspiring children.
The final week of my program in Peru lead me to a week spent at Lake Titicaca (yes it sounds silly, but it's still fun to say a million times). A friend of mine who had taken spanish classes with me in Cusco was also on this trip, and in typical Peruvian fashion things started out eerily. We were told to show up at the school by 7 to make sure we got to our 7:30 bus on time. Come 7:45 the volunteer coordinator at the school finally shows up to take us to the bus. But about ten minutes into the drive I realize we are too far outside the city to be heading to a bus station. 45 minutes later we arrive at the first stop on the 8 hour bus tour to Lake Titicaca. Our coordinator had shown up so late that he was forced to drive us to the first stop of this bus ride, almost an hour outside the city. Classic Peru.
Lake Titicaca, as they told us about a gazillion times, is the highest navigable lake in the world. Basically it's just at a really high altitude, and it plays with your head when you get down to the water thinking it's sea level but you're still at 12,000 feet. Our first day we had a quick trip to the floating islands of the lake, a small community of people who literally live on floating little islands made of tightly bound straw. They float about 100ft above the sea floor, and there are about twenty people per little island. These people also never brush their teeth, but because they chew on the local brush (taste like celery) they have the cleanest teeth 'Ive ever seen.
That night we arrived at one of the small islands within the lake, and each set of friends in our group was placed with a local family where we would spend the night. They made us soup and cooked dinner, and after we all took a hike to the highest point of the island. The views were incredible, mountains for the entire 360 degree view; from this point you could see so far across the lake the mountains we saw were a part of Bolivia (60% of Lake Titicaca belongs to Peru, the other 40% to Bolivia).
The next day lead us to another small island, but that night my friend and I were the only two people to stay the night. Definitely worth not be able to shower for another 24 hours. We walked down to the beach and along the rocks, had some incredible food, and watched one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen.
Our final day we went back to the mainland, but not before our final decent to the dock--walking down 500 stairs. It wasn't bad at all going down, but there were locals carrying 50lbs sacks of sugar and flour up those stairs. God help them, I could never do that. We got back to the hostel for the night, finally were able to take a shower, and then headed back to Lima the next day out of the sketchiest airport in the world (just google Juliaca airport). And with that my Peruvian adventures ended, only to bring more fun as I headed off to Argentina.
Since my mother came to visit me in New Zealand, my father and I came up with a plan to meet up in Buenos Aires for a week in Argentina. I had heard many great things about this city, so I was anxious to get there and see what all the fuss was about. The best way to sum up our week in one word would be "steak." Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I felt like I gained ten pounds in a week I ate so much of it, but it was all so good!
We spent 5 days in BA and did quite a bit of touring. We had a general tour of the city and the many diverse neighborhoods including Palermo Soho and Palermo Hollywood. We visited cemeteries and monuments while learning the (corrupt) history of the country. One day we were lucky enough to visit the studio of an artist and have a personal discussion with him about his work.
One of the highlights included taking a cooking class at a local restaurant. Argentina is very well known for its meat, and one reason is the country's cooking method: the asado grill. While in America we use a flame grill, asado grills involve heating wood and coals and then placing the hot coals underneath the grill to cook the meat. It does take much longer to cook, but the meat is so tender and juicy. Our chef taught us where different cuts of the meat came from on the cow, local specialties, and even made us try some local favorites. We were forced to try cow kidneys, and I can certainly say it is one of my two most hated foods in the world (along with vegemite). Just nasty. Looked gross, tasted worse. But later the chef made us the prime cut of this cow just for us, and it might have been the tastiest piece of steak I've ever eaten.
We even got to take polo lessons one day (after having watched a match...more on that later). I have only ridden western saddles in horses; so not only was I supposed to figure out how to stay on this horse while standing in my stirrups (instead of sitting in the saddle) and with no horn to hold on to, but I was also expected to swing this six-foot long mallet, hit a tiny little ball, and not hit the horse all at the same time. Needless to say, I spent most of the time on the horse walking.
After BA my dad and I flew down to Patagonia to do some fly fishing. My father has loved fly fishing for a long time, but I had never had the pleasure. I set my expectations low, figuring I might catch a fish or two. The first one I caught was about five inches long, I don't even know how it got hooked. I did not feel any better at this moment. But by the end of the trip I had caught 12 fish to my father's ten. Woot woot (to be fair, he did catch the biggest fish, a 21inch brown trout while my biggest was a 20 inch rainbow trout).
The scenery was incredible: mountains in every direction with the bending river at our feet. The lodge we stayed at was great: a long history of returning guests with fantastic food and the nicest owners you'll ever meet. Our guides were also so helpful, teaching me everything I needed to know for a quick three day experience while proving to be pretty funny. And my philosophy on fish--that they're stupid--still hasn't changed.
So while in BA my dad got tickets for a polo match. Just something he thought would be fun. We thought it was going to just be another match. Turns out it was the grand final of the year, their Super Bowl. Ok then, lucky us.
I knew the basic rules of polo, but nothing special. I had no idea the field was 300 years long, and most of the times there was a foul I had no idea what was going on. But the match was incredibly entertaining. (By the way, this all took place the day after the match was originally scheduled to take place because the first day it poured rain starting five minutes into the match, the forecast called for that, and they tried to get it in anyway).
I learned shortly thereafter that there are approximately nine 10 handicap players in the world. Seven of those players were in this match. Insane. These guys so fast on the horses that I would be scared just to ride that fast let alone swing at a ball on the ground or ride in front of said ball when it is traveling 40 mph towards you as you try and block the shot.
Even more, it was an incredible match. These two teams had played each other in the final 3 our of the previous 5 years. They had gone to overtime before, and this match was going back and forth. There were little kids going nuts in front of us, and there was tension in the air. Blah blah blah, but the match was great, it really was. The underdog team, Ellestina, took the match. People stormed the field like it was a 1920s baseball game. In the end I had gone to one polo match, a match some locals called on of the greatest matches they had ever seen.