Saturday 12 March 2011

The barrio

Following the day that was scripted I breakfasted at the café while Skyping with Amy and that is about as far as the plan became actual activity. My meet up with a student, Dora, for our shop and cook did not materialize, even taking into account Spanish Small Town Time. Things happen.

Back to the café with Jessica and her husband Steve while they broke fast, and stayed for more virtual communication & information, and planning for the last month of my time here (excitement growing!).

Short siesta and then the usual vegetarian lunch being served by a surly, dour faced waitress (still haven’t figured out what I did to offend her… although maybe she just hates Gringas that don’t speak Spanish?)

Return to the Hostal for a tentative 3pm meet up for a nice long walk, but by half past I figured that wasn’t happening either.

On to plan B, my threatened solo walk to Equador. When discussing this possibility with Amy this morning she said “go for it, just maybe take a small knife”, which I thought was cute really. In consultation with Steve I came to the conclusion that I had left my start rather late in the day, so would need to start my “get over it, Linda” solo outing on a smaller scale. The road to Huancas looked a good bet.

Now to give Steve his due, he did advise I take a taxi part way up and avoid the barrios. Obviously my fear of taking taxies is greater than my fear of the barrios because on foot I did go. Quite the experience really.

This is an area of town where few people meet your eye or offer a friendly greeting. New for me, because up until now I have been struck by just how friendly everyone is. Onward an upward (literally), I kept walking and observing. Falling down buildings, and new construction. Windows barred or covered by metal roofing. A multitude of dogs, none of which barked, swarmed or attacked (I used the positive expectation technique). Requisite chickens… one with a whole gaggle of chicks. Wait, that’s geese. Hmm, inquiring minds.

I watched the painfully slow progress of a tiny, ancient looking woman as she attempted to walk down the road. Feeling grateful for my as yet young, strong legs I tried to picture myself in that situation. Don’t want to go there.

There were sheep wandering at the side of the road, and others tied to trees by their hind legs, hopelessly tangled having turned a time or two while grazing. Trucks and taxis whizzed by, picking up the dirt from the road and sending into the air in great clouds. Can’t say I care to have grit in my teeth. Eyes, nose or hair either.

Music blaring out from buildings (enjoyable), Moms watching their children poop in the dirt (not so enjoyable).

Having achieved a fair gain in altitude, I stopped whenever possible to enjoy the views back into the city, and that of the valleys spreading out below. The garbage littering the hillside at my feet was in stark contrast to the beauty off in the distance.

The nicest buildings were the Catholic & Seventh Day Adventists Churches, standing side by side, painted perfectly white and wooden doors stained and shiny. Someday I might understand how the money goes into the churches and not into educational programs for kids or women. Maybe.

There were dirty kids playing on the road and in the yards. Moms knitting in the doorways. Men working in the yards and on the houses. One such man shouted what I assume were obscenities at me, waving me up the road and spitting after me. I believe he also called me a whore, or at least according to my Spanish that is what “Puta” means.

You see the experiences I would have missed had I taken a cab?

I continued on this rutted, dusty, dirt road onward and upward until, rounding a bend I came upon three young men who sent my “oh, shit”, antennae on red alert. Any woman would be hard pressed to explain exactly how this works, we just KNOW. Showing fear is the worst thing to do, so after sparing them a disinterested glance I wandered up the road another few paces and looked at the view for a moment. Then I turned and started my way back down, at a slightly accelerated speed, until I came into view of villagers. A few moments more and the (I am pretty sure stoned) dorks stopped following me.

I smiled and waived at the man who had spit at me on the way past his property, then ate the dirt road pretty much all the way back to town.

With confidence I can say I have found a neighbourhood to which I will not be retiring.

Fear faced, I am safely back in my writers’ haven, rubbing my hands together in anticipation of tomorrows outing, not yet planned but certain to happen.

Albeit barrio free.

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