Another nice hat!

Well, he really wanted to show me how he carved into this enormous gourd, but I’m afraid I was more interested in his beautifully knitted hat!

We worked our way down this street, stopping and chatting, making one or two small purchase but mostly, just soaking up the atmosphere.

Before we knew it, we were in a wide open plaza in front of the church where a few women were setting out their goods for sale and others simply sat and chatted.  No-one “just” sat though, because everyone had in their hands a needle and thread, a small piece of braiding, crochet, spinning or knitting.

All around were little vignettes of life here in Chinchero.  These people were only going about their daily business in the same way as always, but to us it was incredibly picturesque.

Making our way over to the church, we passed several of the ladies with their blue tarpaulins and of course, we couldn’t resist looking at what they had to offer.  My hero pointed out a pink and green bag he thought I’d like.

I did…I do, and I’ll enjoy using it!

So many beautiful things out there in the natural light, where they looked simply stunning.

For once though, my eye was drawn away from the textiles.  Here was another “mamatia” as Adriana called them, a lady sitting spinning at the foot of what looked remarkably like an English war memorial (but I don’t think it was anything of the kind!)

Would she mind if I took her picture?  Not at all!

But then, out of the blue came someone else and sat down beside her.  There’s cheeky!

Hello – or rather, Hola, I said and pointed to my camera.  A nod and a pose followed.

She too was carrying a heavy pack and began to open it up, maybe to find her lunch.  Adriana asked her age and after a great deal of thought, she said 80.  But she was none too sure.

She grinned as we talked about her – how much did she understand?  We admired her shawl however, her fine hat and talked about the weight of her backpack.

The other lade continued with her work, not at all worried about being upstaged.

Our final stop was the church.  This one is a hybrid of Catholic and Quescha and inside there are signs of both.  Adriana told us it was where she loved to come on a Sunday with her family, when the only sitting room would be on the floor and that the local people would be dressed in their Sunday best to sing and pray with huge enthusiasm.

We were happy to stand and stare; at the beautifully decorated interior with not one square inch left unadorned, at the inca earthworks on all of the hills around us and yes, of course, at the two old ducks still sitting there.

But it was time to leave this peaceful place and make our way back to Urubamba.

We walked back to the car passing more of these weavers and lovng the huge baskets of flowers everywhere.

We ducked under a branch of Peru’s national flower, the name of which I’ve forgotten, sorry!

and stopped to buy some sweets from this gentleman in the street, who was busy with a bit of fingerbraiding.

Look who was waiting by our car!

We greeted her politely and asked how she was.  Not so bad, she said, but she was having trouble with her eyes and so found it difficult to see things

 

She didn’t know how old she was.

But needless to say her bundle was there beside her on the pavement,

We drove back through this large flat upland landscape where, believe it or not, an international airport is proposed.  All around us are traces of the incas, their terraced hillsides and agave  lined trails, still visible and in regular use.

It might bring prosperity to a few local farmers, may well make getting to Machu Picchu rather easier, but at what cost?

We drove on through potato fields and expansive countryside for a while before we recognised a couple of now familiar features in the landscape.

The horizontal line over on the far hillside, which is an inca waterway – one of those channels directing water from the top of the hill to a place of habitation.

And then the viewpoint over Urubamba, where we stopped to take a few pictures.

What a day!   And how pleased we are to bring home a piece of work created by those ladies, with the braided edge.  We’ll find somewhere to hang it at home and each time we see it, we’ll think of the women of Chinchero and their incredible textile skills.

We love this place, these people

We set off this morning to drive to the nearby town of Chinchero.  Adriana had told us that this town specialised in weaving and having seen my reaction to the lady braiding the other day, she said she thought it’d be right up my street.

How right she was!

Marco dropped us off in the middle of the town and Adriana bought our tickets.  The weaving workshops are run as a cooperative and are controlled from a central point.  As we waited for the business to be completed, a chap was coming down the path.  I won’t point out the central water channel again because you know all about that now, don’t you?

Quietly, Adriana explained that these people don’t shower every day, that their clothes are the same ones they wore yesterday, last week, maybe last month.  But if we looked into his face, we’d see his story.  Not only that, he’d be happy to have his photograph taken if we gave him 1 sol – about 20p – because that would buy his lunch.

He shook hands, asked where we were from and wished us happy days in Peru.  His feet were muddy, his hands similarly dirty and he had a heavy pack on his back.  But he was polite – charming, even, and he went on his way with a wave.

He was the first of several new friends we met this morning.

We turned up a side street and there in the courtyard of the first house sat a lady, weaving.  Dressed traditionally, she hardly looked up from her work and seeing me peering inside, Adriana suggested we go further up the street where there would be more to see.  We had only just begun!

In the next yard sat an old lady – 87, she claimed – weaving a narrow band in a similar way to the woman in the market yesterday.    She told us – via Adriana – that she had poor eyesight, but that she still enjoyed weaving and could manage.

She managed the pattern by picking up the warp threads by hand, before threading the weft through with her fingers.  This was slow work indeed.  The pattern is the puma claw design, she told me.

Her daughter – aged 50 – was plying some baby alpaca yarn opposite and she chatted with Adriana as I took photographs.  Delightful, friendly people.

We were getting braver now, poking our heads into any open door and hoping for something interesting.  This one proved particularly worthwhile, don’t you think?

The goods laid out on tables all around the courtyard were colourful and enticing…

There was another corner, where we were invited to come, sit, watch.

But I’d spotted one of those back packs carried by the women here, which she’d just tied up with goods for the market.  I tentatively went to pick it up.

I could hardly lift it.  It weighed easily as much as my suitcase, possibly more – ie 25kg.

She picked it up easily and swung it over her shoulder and off she went.

Meanwhile, a group of cruise passengers came into the workshop and we suddenly felt a little outnumbered!  With all of these people around, there was no way we could chat to the weavers, nor did we feel able to have a good look around.  We decided to leave them all to it and move on to the next workshop.

We were glad we did, for just a few doors down, this lady was working on something rather complex.  She was braiding the edging for a handwoven blanket, creating the pattern in her fingers and attaching it to the edge of the blanket as she went along.  She’d completed about three quarters of the edge and reckoned she’d need another two or three days to complete it.

Her work was beautiful and the skill with which she did all of these processes together was remarkable.

We stepped inside the yard of her workshop and were invited to sit in the “VIP seats”!

That was near the guinea pigs!

Alfonso gave us a demonstration of how the alpaca wool was processed here.  First, he grated some saqtana root into a bowl of hot water and washed the fleece in the soapy bubbles.  This root has been used for centuries for scouring the fleeces before spinning.

As he demonstrated each step, the two ladies working to his left hand side commented, corrected or made fun – who knows?  But there was a jolly atmosphere and for this short time, we were all part of the family!

He then explained the different natural dyes available to them.  Firstly, purple could be obtained from the purple corn husks and depending on the time it was left steeping, a range of shades could be achieved.

He had some yellow yarn dyed with these flowers – I’m not sure what they were.

There were other baskets of a whole rainbow of colours but the most used dyestuff here is cochineal which comes in dried form.  Here, Alfonso blended some in his hand and added a drop of lemon juice to half of it, to show that other colours could be obtained.

At this point, someone stepped forward and giggled as she explained, it also made natural lipstick – “good for 200 kisses”, she claimed!

Alfonso quickly got on with the dyeing sample!

The weaving going on around us was becoming too much of a distraction to keep watching him though, so we left him to clear up his pots and pans and went over to chat with the other ladies.

This woman was weaving a table runner or wall hanging, from alpaca yarn.  Using only naturally dyed threads, she was creating the design without reference to any pattern or chart.  After each couple of weaves, she’d use a sheep’s horn to beat down the weft, creating a tightly woven and very dense fabric.

Then, she pulled on the heddle and showed how she was weaving a reversible fabric.  Beautiful.

The woman opposite was weaving one of those narrow braids as we’d seen being sewn onto the edge of a piece of weaving earlier.

She was proud of her hair and was glad to have my attention.

They were all wearing hats such as those we saw yesterday and they all confirmed that yes, they do keep their money in their hat!

Of course, we couldn’t resist buying a couple of bits after such a super show although we left this heavily beaded man’s cap on the stand.

We accepted their invitation to use their loo and stepped over a few household objects as we went.

What a great place to visit!

 

When we left the workshop, the lady who’d been sitting on the step, making and attaching the braid was buying her lunch from a woman selling cooked potatoes, boiled eggs and mayonnaise.  She smiled as I asked if I may take her picture and said to Adriana that though she had only one hand, she was proud to be able to make a living just like everyone else.  I hadn’t even noticed her hand but loved the idea of having a fresh lunch brought round each day, served in a plastic bag for just 1 sol 50.

I think I’d better stop at this point and create a second post once again, or else you’ll be sitting here all day waiting for all those photographs to download.  I’ll be back with the gourd carver in the next post.

More colour this afternoon, too

Oh, I nearly forgot.  As we were leaving the thatched house in Ollantaytambo, I noticed the worn down stone by the door. 

It’s the family mortar, worn down by years and years of grinding sauces, corn, herbs and and whatever else needed work.  Such small personal details are magic, aren’t they?

Anyway, we were off once again and those who’d listened to Terry Breen’s talk about her connections in Urubamba will recognise the red plastic bag outside this house as a sign that there’s chicha available.

A nice street scene through the windscreen, showing the two most popular means of local transport here, too.

We drove through several villages and small towns on the way, including Calca  , but we were heading for the market town of Pisac where we were hoping to see some better quality things for sale than this morning in Ollantaytambo.

Well, the first stall was interesting but was still a little hokey for our liking.  Funny how, some things look authentic at first glance whilst others simply don’t fit the scene.  Those dolls at the back, for example.  Made in China perhaps.

Aha!  Now we’re talking.  Hand knitted hats dyed with natural dyes.  Clearly very different from the fluorescent things we’d seen earlier and close inspection revealed all the tell tale signs of a genuinely hand knit article.  Not quite the thing to wear in a Cotswold village perhaps, but we knew someone who might enjoy wearing one of them, that’s for sure.

A little further along were chess sets and ludo boards, featuring Andean animals, Incas and Conquistadors.  Nicely made, we thought.

It was funny how shopkeepers would listen for words and phrases and then pop out with the item we’d just mentioned.  I was chatting to Adriana about braids and quipu and a chap held one out for me to see.  An antique example, this was the real deal and the price reflected that, so we didn’t buy, but it was so interesting to see and handle one at close quarters (I didn’t like to photograph something we had no intention of buying, sorry)  Whilst he had a captive audience, he brought out a couple of antique bags which the chasqui would have carried, and then a slingshot and a lump of haematite.  Such treasures, so interesting to look at, to handle and to learn about but ultimately, best left in their home environment rather than being taken across the globe to put on a shelf!

As we stepped outside, though, my heart skipped a beat.

This woman was weaving a narrow braid with the warp tied to a door knob.  She’d separated the warp threads into bundles, working the pattern by lifting these small bundles in sequence, which had the same effect as tablet weaving.

Oh, and you did notice her elaborately embroidered skirt, didn’t you?

When I showed genuine interest in her work she put it down and showed me one or two other pieces, explaining via Adriana that it took her almost a week to work a length of braid.  She had one unfinished length which was very tempting to buy, especially since it still had the bundles in place.  But it was really too long to be of practical use, so I settled on another piece.  Bearing in mind the time it takes her to work such a piece, her price of 20 soles was very reasonable indeed and having done the deal, she smiled and was happy to pose for a photograph.

Especially when I spotted where she kept her needles!

So, I have a lovely piece of her work to use as a hat band and was delighted with my treasure.

As we walked back to the car, we noted the modern equivalent of the Inca water supply.

Our next – and final – stop was lunch.  a little late, but we didn’t mind at all.  We were going to another Hacienda and just knew the food was going to be good.  We are getting to grips with Peruvian cuisine now!

The hacienda was very special indeed and had wonderful collections of art.  Those interested might like to investigate the Cuzco School in order to prepare for a wider investigation later this week.  For now though, we were hungry!

I’m sorry, I forgot to take a photo until I’d already started our causa, which you recognised immediately from our cooking lesson, didn’t you?  Next came a corn soup, blended with herbs to give it a really authentic flavour, then a plate of grilled pork and mashed potato and finally a chirimoya (custard apple) meringue for me and a lucumas mousse for my hero.  Delicious, but oh my, were we stuffed!

So, no dinner for us tonight, but instead, a few hours reading, catching up here and waiting for the hot water bottle man!  He’s just been, so it’s goodnight from me and goodnight from him.

Tomorrow, it’s the market at Chinchero and a visit to the weavers there.  Coming with us?

What a marvellous day!

Well, the toothpaste held out you’ll be glad to know and since I stood it upside down, by the time I came to open it this morning, most had settled to the bottom of the tube.  No pale green spatter.  But there was a shout from the bathroom this morning as my hero unscrewed the top of his roll-on anti-perspirant and the ball shot out across the room!  Ah, altitude has very peculiar and rather surprising effects.

I had a fright when I got into bed last night though.  I thought something had crawled in between the sheets but heaved a sigh of relief when I discovered a hot water bottle!  A full service hotel, for sure.

We’d heard it raining in the night – well, it is the rainy season, after all – and so this morning, there were low clouds settled on the tops of the hills.  But what a wonderful landscape this is, surprisingly green and with flowers everywhere.  Gorgeous.

We drove to the nearby town of Ollantaytambo where we were going to take a look at the archaeological site.  Ollantaytambo was an important Inca town and the central area is still built around a few Inca structures.

We drove through the market place and out towards the inca ruins, where our driver Marco dropped us off right by a rather interesting stall.

But we were not here to shop or to look around the market.  We were here to see this:

Terraces filled the end of the valley and beyond and were really well preserved.

Our guide, Adriana pointed out the significant features as we listened intently.  We had no idea that all of this was just up the road from where we are staying.

 

Here were some beautifully cut stones too, so precise and smooth.  I guess we were getting a taste of what we’ll see at Machu Picchu later in the week.

We took the steps up to a terrace about half way up the slope.  The stones were secure and dry, so they felt easy to climb.

From here, we could get a good view of the “larder” across the valley.  This construction had been built to take advantage of the winds, which would blow cool air around the different storage areas.  These Inca people were so clever.

Were we ok to go on, asked Adriana?  Well, yes, we thought so.  But the steps were a little steeper now and carrying water bottle, raincoat, camera and who knows what else, I decided that no, I didn’t need to go further.  I’d wait here for a while, might do some drawing, would certainly take some photographs and I’d see them when they returned.

At the top of the steps which led through the terraces, there were wonderful examples of those beautifully fitted and finished stones with which we are so familiar from TV documentaries and travelogues. Adriana explained that, as an anti-earthquake measure, the walls all slope inwards by about 10 degrees. To get the granite so smooth the craftsmen shaped them with ultra-hard hematite rocks, then rubbed the surface with sand,

The little trapezoidal niches would have held precious objects – statues or ceremonial plates.

Even the gateways echoed the trapezoidal look. The whole upper area was unfinished though, abandoned just before the Spanish conquest when rival sons of the dead Inca began a civil war to claim the empire.

The town at the foot of the ruins was beginning to bustle.  People were arriving from Cuzco to catch the train to Machu Picchu or simply to mooch around this charming small town.

Since it’s a stopping off point for so many tourists – it’s one of the starting points for the Inca Trail, too – the souvenir stalls were many.

But just across the road was a young woman wearing “the real thing” and Adriana asked if we may take her photo.  She agreed with a smile and stood whilst I tried to get all the detail of her felted woollen skirt, her bundle holding her 9 month old daughter Julissa and that amazing hat.

Typical of this region, the hat is hollow and the top has a central hole about two inches in diameter where, I was told, the ladies kept their money!  They sometimes put flowers in there, too, but today, Julissa’s Mummy had left it empty.

It was only when I took the photograph of the beaded chin strap of the hat that I spotted all of those safety pins.  I wonder if those are merely decorative, or if they will serve some purpose during the day?  With smiles all around – except for Julissa, who burst into tears, we thanked her profusely and went on our way.

Ollantaytambo is a very picturesque spot and we saw several people photographing the locals.  This woman was sitting chatting to a family, playing with the children but really, getting a few choice shots for her album.  I felt a little uncomfortable about this – not about Julissa and her Mum, who were simply going about their business and happy to pose for a quick photo, but more so about the families who seemed to have dressed up for the sole purpose of posing (and earning money, of course).  Later in the day, Adriana said that some mothers kept their children from school so that they could roam the market to attract the attention of visitors.  Hearing this made me feel all the more uncomfortable!

We stopped at the bottom of an Inca street to marvel at the water running down the side as it had done for centuries.  Simple stone bridges led to doorways through which clusters of three or four houses could be accessed.

These doorways were trapezoidal – as you’d spotted already and though there was in wooden door here now, in Inca times there would have been a decorative textile hanging there.

This doorway would have led to a house of some importance, since it has a double frame.

Turning off the main street into a side passage with a central waterway, Adriana asked if we’d like to see inside a house?  Oooooh……  Now, my hero looked a bit doubtful but once we’d stepped inside the courtyard and seen things for sale, he felt better.  Even so, it was me who was really curious.

We entered through an opening in the wall – not trapezoidal for some reason – doing our best not to trip in the water gully.

This was home to three families and their assorted cats, dogs and, if you can spot them by the brown door, a duck and her brood of yellow, fluffy ducklings.  Though the water was still flowing through those channels in the yard, Adriana explained that all of these houses now have running water and mains electricity.

The thatched house we were to visit had the traditional roof decoration I mentioned in my last blog post.

Inside was a similar mix of Quescha and Catholic symbols adorning the smoke blackened stone walls.  But of course, it wasn’t those walls which attracted our attention, was it?

No, it was the guinea pig family who all came out of hiding as soon as Adriana rustled the alfafa grass!  She explained that they live freely in the warmth of the kitchen and breed so quickly and easily that they continue to provide a rich source of protein for a family living somewhere like this.   So, cuy would definitely be on the menu here.  (Sorry Mrs Meeps!)

These two had their own private alfafa source!

Around the walls were niches containing small shrines to dead relatives, including their blackened skulls in some cases.  There were also more everyday items there beside them – a thermos flask, a coffee mug and right beneath one of the niches, a small bed where someone would curl up to sleep.

Was this real or merely preserved for tourists, we asked?  Adriana convinced us that though tourists certainly drop in here to see how people live, it was genuine and the family made their living in the same way as they had always done.  There are two sons living there right now who will inherit their parents’ home eventually, but whether they choose to continue living the simple life or to do as so many of their generation are choosing to do and explore the bright lights of a big city, who knows?

So much to take in.  So many visual treats already today and we weren’t even half way through.  I’ll continue in the next post, as usual.

On a high!

Rather an elegant breakfast time view to kick off the day.  Actually it was a case of style over substance, because although it was all beautifully laid out, we couldn’t find many of the bits and pieces that go with breakfast.  Juice?  Butter?  Spoons?  Never mind.  We had what we needed and with an early start to catch our flight to Cuzco, we weren’t too worried.

South American airports are quiet, peaceful places – not!  But our flight left more or less on time and flying over the beaches of Miraflores, I could recognise some of the landmarks we’d passed two or three times during the last couple of days.  Much of what we’ve been told was confirmed by an aerial view, too.  The surf is good, not because the waves are huge but because they start so far out.  It’s called the “Green Coast” because of the colour of the sea, not because of lush vegetation along the cliffs.  And yes, the coast does attract the cloud!

Soon though, we were flying over mountains.  Occasionally I’d see a small village tucked away in a small valley and wonder what life must be like there.

Even though it was a mere 55 minutes to Cuzco, we were handed a small snack and offered a drink.  Taking the advice of everyone who has offered it, we drank water.  As much of it as we could in the hope of avoiding any trace of altitude sickness.

The box contained a small packet of savoury crackers, a packed of peanuts and raisins and a chocolate wafer.  Quite tasty and passed the time away nicely – by the time we’d eaten it, we were coming in to land.

There was the airport down below, but the thing was, we were going to land in the opposite direction, so had to make a 180 degree turning manoeuvre.   Memories of coming in to land in Tblisi, many years ago when Russian pilots flew their planes like they were still in the airforce!  I very much dislike this part, so concentrated on something else…

Was it a little fairy trapped between the window layers in front of me?  How had it got there?  See how bleached it is by the sun, yet perfectly preserved in the vacuum. How curious.

We were nearly down and there was Cuzco, much larger than I’d thought.  (We later learned that there’s a population of more than 500,000)

It was greener than I thought, too.  We met Marco our driver and Pamela our “guardian angel”, as she described herself and set off down towards Urubamba (about 9000ft)  in the Sacred Valley.  We’d been advised to spend a couple of days at a lower altitude than Cuzco (11 200 ft) to acclimatise and since we wanted to do whatever we could to ensure we had a great time here, of course, we took that advice.

We drove through some small market towns, where Sunday afternoon trading was brisk.

We passed precariously sited homes, where the government had built flights of steps so the inhabitants could access them.  Just think of climbing those steps at sea level, never mind at 11000 feet! 

Most of all, we drove through wide green spaces, with dark green potato fields on each site and the Andes in the distance.  The scenery was lovely and not at all as bleak as we’d expected.

Eventually, we could see a valley way down below and were pleased to think that will be our base for a few days.  It wasn’t that we felt poorly, nor that we weren’t prepared.  But we were wary and yes, we certainly felt “different”.

Before she dropped us at our hotel, Pamela offered advice.  Drink water – lots of it.  The body dehydrates three times faster at altitude than at sea level, so alcohol isn’t recommended either. (Shame!  No pisco sours!)  Wear plenty of high factor sunscreen because the air is thin and the sun is strong.  Eat light meals – no red meat for a couple of days and above all, take it easy.  Don’t rush about but relax and spend a few hours reading (blogging!)

So, here we are.  Casita number 38 is home for a couple of days and we are happy!

Look how beautiful it is inside.

Oh, and look at our view!

We have two bulls by the fireplace; traditional Quechua symbols of farming and fertility since Inca times.  Actually, we have four bulls in total, because there are two on the roof as well.

Just around the corner from our sitting room, we have a dressing area where, in one of the cupboards is the mini bar.  Alongside two bottles of wine, one bottle of beer and several other alcoholic drinks are two miniscule (albeit complimentary) bottles of water.  Now, bearing in mind the advice which is given to everyone about drinking plenty of water, together with the fact that no tap water in Peru is drinkable, wouldn’t you have thought they could have stretched to a bigger bottle?   And, having drunk those two bottles this afternoon, the trouble of getting two more was incredible… ”we’ll have to put them on your bill, Mrs Thomas”.  Well, ok then, if you must!  The daft thing is, that whilst at dinner this evening, the Maitre d’ came over with a bottle from champagne for us, “with the compliments of the manager”.  We explained that we didn’t want to drink alcohol right now and perhaps he could chill it for us to enjoy in a couple of days time.  But thinking about it, perhaps we ought to have asked him to swap it for a few bottles of cold water!!

We’ll be fine tomorrow, because forewarned is forearmed and we’ll buy a couple of large bottles in town.  We might even stretch to a bottle of Inca Cola  

Such a fuss was silly, really, because this is a beautiful hotel set in idyllic surroundings.

There’s a colourful library with stacks of books about Peru and the Incas.

The restaurant is equally colourful!

It has an interesting menu, too.

But what’s keeping us both on tenterhooks is the state of my toothpaste.  Every tube and bottle has expanded almost to bursting point, but so far, thankfully, nothing has actually burst.  But I fear my toothpaste might blow at any minute.  Perhaps, tomorrow morning we’ll find  pale green spatter all over the bathroom walls?

In the meantime I’m playing safe and using a mini tube from the plane.  Much less potential damage from a 2 inch tube, I think.