A slice of writers heaven

This is my home for the next 4 weeks... my little slice of writers heaven, so to speak.

And the view... well how much better can you get than balcony doors that open right onto the main plaza?

Today is Saturday, and after suffering no internet access here at the hostal, and I am like a wounded animal… restless and wanting to strike out at anyone near. Talk about addicted.

I spent yesterday puttering around the hostal, sitting in the main square reading and doing more writing. I have been having some pretty vivid dreams since arriving here (maybe the altitude?), and have been trying to record them in detail and see what I can make of them.

The weather is beautiful, hot in the sun, cool in the shade, and a tad cold at night. Chachapoyas sits 2335 meters above sea level… high in the mountains, so although we are a scant 6 degrees south of the equator it is far from sweltering.

With a population of just under 23,000 people it is a good sized town, with a friendly, but conservative local population. Here you will not see sleeveless shirts or shorts. No plunging necklines, no miniskirts. Unless you are looking at a tourist. What strange creatures we must seem to those whose hometown we have invaded.

Backpackers especially… those young, young men and women who have counter cultured to the extreme. They arrive in town dirty and grimy, finding any ultra cheap nook or cranny to lay their heads at night. It costs money to have your clothes laundered, so they don’t. They wear a special “eau d’ I don’t know what”… Some have Spanish, some not, but they bargain at the market, and think spending $1.50 for dinner is outrageous.

Although not as bad as the drunken idiotic behaviour I witnessed in the Dominican, many tourists are loud and rowdy, crowd the bars and display far more affection in the open than any Peruvian would.

Thank god we are not all like that. I have already had the pleasure of meeting some lovely folks from England and a German man that looks Indiana Jones and has one of those bold fun characters that is infectious.

And the lovely people of Chachapoyas treat us all politely and warmly, but sadly are learning to adjust their prices to Gringo. My advantage is taking a native to the market with me… people laugh as I try and speak Spanish without spitting all over the place. As a language that is spoken from the front of the mouth and sometimes uses the tongue to form the sound of “C or S”… well I embarrass myself a lot, is all I can say.

At the market I managed to purchase some fruit, crackers, laundry soap and a basket to put on my nightstand, which will become my default kitchen. I forgot to buy a towel though, so I am still using the little 12x24” travel rag I carry around. (You can only imagine how much one can appreciate an oversized bath towel until you make do with the travel version.)

I followed Janet around as she scouted out her families lunch. She bought some pork and then headed to the “pre-cooked” section of the market. This was a new one for me. There were rows of people selling grains, shelled corn and various beans, all pre-cooked and ready to take home and add to your favourite meal. Sacks and sacks of a vegetarian paradise, all calling out to me, just needing to be scooped out eaten. Some of them were even seasoned. When she was done, Janet had collected enough food to make dinner for her family of three… all for the sum of 7 soles, or about $2.

Suddenly I understand how the restaurant that charges me $1.50 for a three course meal can actually make a profit.

Last night when I went up the street to the restaurant to get that meal, I was met with closed doors. Right. I had forgotten they are Seventh Day Adventists, which means they celebrate their Sabbath from Friday evening until Saturday evening. So it was yellow cake and water for dinner.

But it was the moon that really captivated my attention. A full, massive moon shining eerily through a yellowed haze, all surrounded by one of the biggest rings I can remember seeing. That is usually an omen for a change of weather, which can either be seen as good or bad. They have been experiencing drought conditions this year so the crops could do with the rain. I have plans to visit a small town 2 hours away tomorrow to visit Janet’s farm, and I know I would rather do this in the sun because it involves windy single lane dirt roads. But, Que sera, sera

Got up this morning early, and went on a search for a good cup of coffee. Since Peru exports most of its best coffee, finding the elusive cup of drinkable coffee is a challenge. I was spoiled in Tarapoto because the hostal is a staunch supporter of a local farmers collective and as such is privy to their beans. So far here in Chachapoyas it has been one cup of bitter, weak, or worse yet… instant, brown liquid in a mug. Ick.

This morning was no better. I miss Becky’s.

Today is a good day for a walk. After writing though so I better get at it.

Talk to you later.