Easter Island and Peru day 7

            We are spending three nights at a 300-year old hacienda, one of the few in this part of the country that was not destroyed by the Shining Path terrorists years ago.  This one was occupied and burned by the guerrillas after they forced out the family and all the employees; it is now undergoing restoration by the family who has owned it for the past 100 years.  While the rooms do not have heat, the beautiful gardens here and the 80 acres under cultivation provide enough interest to make it a pleasant stay.  The proprietor is a 30-sometning member of the family who speaks good English and is providing us information about the surrounding area.  The hacienda provides employment to 20 local residents, and we strolled the grounds, watching them at their tasks with the farm animals and crops.

 Entrance to Hacienda la Florida

            Hacienda la Florida is located at an elevation just under 10,000 feet.  If you have reviewed the scientific journals, you know that one third of the earth’s atmosphere lies below that elevation.  This means that in Lima we inhaled 50% more oxygen with each breath than we have here. The pass at 16,000 feet last night made us both dizzy and breathless, so we are able to put up with the headaches that will persist until we acclimate in a day or so.  Meantime, the view from the grounds is magnificent, with high mountains surrounding it.

 View from the hacienda

            We drove into the town of Tarma, population 68,000, on what appears to be a market day.  Strolling the streets one could find all manner of fruits, vegetables, fertilizer, grains, and cheap wine.  Roger could not pass up a bottle of Peruvian wine at about $4.00, although much later in the day after our wine tasting he was kind enough to give most of it away to other, less discriminating individuals.

 Roger in the market at Tarma

 Grains, anyone?

            The people here for the most part are pure descendants of the original natives:  short, dark skinned, with distinctive features and often local dress.  We get a lot of stares, as few American tourists have Tarma, Peru as their dream destination.  But everyone is helpful and Roger knows enough Spanish from his U.S. Army days in South America for us to get around

            After a soup lunch in town (we’re watching our diet, you know), we headed out to watch the countryside from the main highway.  This particular road runs northwest to southeast, essentially following the top of the Andes range.  It was an afternoon of stunning views.

 Tarma in the distance from 12,000 feet

Farming terraces and clouds in the Andes

Typical mountainside village

            By nightfall, we have become somewhat acclimated to the altitude; the headaches are gone.  Everywhere in the market huge bags of coca leaves were for sale, and here in the hacienda, a bowl full is kept handy for all the workers and guests.  Coca tea is served for breakfast and the evening meal, and they show you how to roll up and fold the leaves to hold between your teeth to sooth your gums.  Supposedly it is good for deadening any pain one might have, such as headaches from the altitude.  Roger and I were afraid to try it, because someone mentioned they grind up the leaves into some kind of white powder that made us a bit queasy.  So we declined the offers of the leaves and coca tea.  Honest.

            This high mountain air really makes you feel good.  It was such a fun day we just can’t stop laughing about it.  Time for bed, they’re telling us.

Roger and Charlie

©2012

Easter Island and Peru day 8

Waterfall along the road to San Ramon

            We decided to take the road downhill for a view of the rain forest below, and so headed out early for the lower elevation town San Ramon, which had been described as a typical Peruvian mountain town.  All along the route were waterfalls, raging rivers, isolated mountain houses, and places where half of the road had slid off into oblivion.  This is an area of persistent rockslides, which are better observed from a distance and which are at times spectacular.  Since we were driving on the side of the road nearest the mountains, it was usually unnecessary to pay close attention.  But passing the slow-moving trucks presented a challenge, since hitting a place in the road where there is no longer a road is, as you are aware, not habit forming.

Raging stream along the way

 Isolated mountain home

 Roger following a trail across the river

            We pulled into San Ramon much earlier than expected, so we decided to skirt the central part of town and  travel even further downhill to the village of La Merced, a well-known (to Peruvians, anyway) tourist town.  As we drove along, the temperature continued to climb.  We passed through a beautiful rainforest with strange flowers and other flora.  Then, suddenly it seemed, we were surprised by coconut palms growing beside the road.  Shortly past the palms, we saw large groves of orange trees on either side of the road.  This was tee shirt and shorts territory, near the base of the Andes on the way to the forests of the Amazon.  Soon we had arrived in La Merced, perched above a raging, coffee-colored, rocky river at an elevation of about 2,300 feet.

            After a leisurely walking tour of the city and lunch, it was time to head back up the mountains to San Ramon.  On the way, we had a lie-swapping contest in which we compared our experiences and opinions during childhood, college, work, friendships, religion, politics, and other noncontroversial subjects.  The conversation went on for two or three hours, until we noticed Hacienda la Florida on our right.  It appears we were so engrossed in displaying our brilliance across the entire conversational spectrum that we had driven past San Ramon without noticing it.  Calculating the time involved to backtrack, not to mention the cost of petrol, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon strolling the streets of Tarma again.

 View from downtown Tarma

            Known as the “Pearl of the Andes”, Tarma is the capital of the province of the same name, and existed as a community long before the arrival of Europeans.  The local ethnic group was known as the Tarumas.  The Spanish established a garrison here in 1538, and this city was apparently alongside one of the trails along which commerce flowed, before and after the arrival of Europeans.  Today it is in the center of an agricultural region, which is evidenced by the many feed and fertilizer stores in its commercial district.  Our hacienda, we were told, was a stopping point—a sort of checkpoint—for those passing through the area.

            In the evening our host’s father appeared in the dining area, and we were introduced to him and one of his other sons.  As the owner of the hacienda when the Shining Path came through, he was targeted for assassination by the terrorists because he employed 200 people at the time and was recognized as a person of importance and wealth.  He was able to hide and escaped harm, along with the rest of his family (our host, Marcos, was 6 years old at the time).  After the burning of the hacienda, he abandoned his flower exporting business, which was very labor intensive; the 20 employees who remain are dedicated principally to the farming of the 80 acres or so adjoining the hacienda.

            Tomorrow we head back across the mountain pass on the way to Lima, a trip that we believe will take considerably less than the one we had a couple of days ago.  After a rest and dinner in Lima, we’ll head to the airport at 5:00 a.m. for the trip home. It has been a great trip, and we hope you have enjoyed traveling with us.  Stay tuned for the next one!

 Near the high mountain pass in the Andes

Charlie and Roger

©2013

Easter Island and Peru day 6

            Special announcement!  We have clean clothes!

            Just before midnight, after our arrival at the Lima airport, we contacted a supervisor and even though by now we had no record of having checked our bags (we’ll explain next time we see you), our bags were located.  By 12:30 this morning the rotting clothing was put away and clean clothes put on, just to see what it felt like.  It felt good, we both agreed—as did shampooed hair, a comb, deodorant, and, in Roger’s case, a shave.

            After a few hours’ sleep, we were delivered this morning with our baggage to the airport to claim our Hertz rental car for the trip to the Andes.   Only, no one at the airport could tell us how to find the Hertz counter—or any other rental car counter, for that matter.  Not the security guards, not the information booth people, not the taxicab drivers (naturally).  We checked the domestic arrivals terminal.  Then we checked the international arrivals terminal, then the entire second floor of the airport.  Still, no rental car counters.  Finally we asked person number 32, who said we had to go back into a place near the baggage area, where only deplaning passengers can see the rental car counters.  Makes a lot of sense, yes?

            Finally, we left the airport at 11:30 after a long lecture from the Hertz people about speed limits, keeping the lights on at all times, and the three different locations for the spare tire and jack combination in case we had a flat.  We had detailed written directions from last night's B&B host to get us out of this city of 9 million and onto the unnumbered highway to Tarma in the Andes Mountains.  Now, Google Maps had told us the trip would take 4 hours.  The folks on TripAdvisor said it would take 6 or seven hours even though the distance is only about 140 miles.  We wish one of them had been correct.

            Following the directions, we turned right on La Marina Avenue and watched the signs for it to turn into Javier Prodo Avenue.  But it didn’t turn into Javier Prodo Avenue, and we found ourselves on a street with some other unpronounceable name.  Making an illegal U-turn, we went back to try to remedy the problem.   After inquiry of people on the street, we found that if we had kept going, La Marina eventually would really become Javier Prodo Avenue. 

           When the street finally became Javier Prodo, we began to look for an overpass, where we were told to take a right on El Trebol.  At the first big overpass, there was no sign for El Trebol.   Roger said we should just hire a cab driver to lead us out of Lima, but that would cost $20.00 and I was unwilling to pay my half.  So we stopped to make another inquiry, and were told to go back to the overpass and turn right and we would be on El Trebol.

            Following the latest directions, we found ourselves on a limited access highway heading back in exactly the opposite direction from where we had been heading for the past hour.  Roger said we should hire a cab driver to lead us out of Lima, but I said that would cost too much.

            When we reached the exit for the airport around 1:00, near where we had begun our journey, we called our B&B host, who told us to turn around and go back down the highway, through the toll booth to the next exit past it, get off, and get back on heading back north.  Then, just past the toll both, take the first exit to the right, which was Evitomiento.  From there we were directed to turn off on Ramiro Pridle Avenue, then onto Carretera Centrol, and we would be on our way to Tarma.  We got off and headed back south, into a massive traffic jam, which took us another hour heading back toward the toll booth.  I was driving and becoming just a tad tense with the 5-speed manual transmission, which had not made it out of first gear on this entire stretch.   Roger said we should hire a cab driver to lead us out of Lima.  I ignored him.

            When I was near giving up hope, Roger saw an exit going off to the right with the name Evitomiento.  As he screamed “Get off here!”, I swerved across two lanes of traffic and exited to the west.  Only, we were supposed to be heading east, and this was another limited access highway.  It took a while, but finally we exited and were heading back east.  We came to a fork where Roger had said we needed to go east, argued loudly about which road to take, and then took the wrong one, onto still another limited access highway.  Roger said go this way, then go that way;  I swerved left and right, and then Roger said we should hire a cab driver to lead us out of Lima.  Even though I am absolutely convinced he put me through all this to wear me down, I immediately agreed.

            We pulled over, Roger hailed a cab, I put my $10.00 In the pot, and the driver led us to the outskirts of Lima.  By now it was 3:00 in the afternoon.  We had taken 3.5 hours to get out of Lima, not counting the rental car ordeal.

            We will not trouble you with the details of the next 7 hours of driving up a winding mountain road and over a mountain pass nearly 16000 feet above sea level (100 feet higher than Mont Blanc, highest mountain in Europe), past several hundred slow-moving trucks on a thousand blind curves, and to our final destination for three nights, Hacienda La Florida.  We will not trouble you, because we are too exhausted at 10:00 at night to trouble you.

Charlie and Roger

©2013

Easter Island and Peru day 5

            At breakfast this morning, there was exciting news.  An American couple had just arrived, telling us they were on the flight from Lima that arrived at 5:30 this morning.  We lit up with the hope that our bags were finally here, in plenty of time for our departure back to Lima this afternoon.  Never mind that the LAN folks had told us the bags would be coming from Santiago at 5:30 in the evening, 50 minutes earlier than our departure time.  We rushed out to the airport, but the place had already closed.  We peeked through the windows at the baggage claim area, but no bags were in sight.  Another day with the same shirt and other articles of clothing.  Neither of us has even a comb.

 Stone carving outside the museum

          Our first stop after the airport was the museum, which had fascinating displays, including replicas of three of the wooden tablets that remain with Rapanui writing.  It's a sort of hieroglyphics, which no one has ever been able to interpret.  The symbols run left to right, apparently, and every other line is upside down; so you would have had to flip the tablet over and over to follow the thoughts of the writer.  Here we also read more theories about the history of the moai and the people

          We did a final tour of the island, stopping to scoop up a tiny bit of pink sand and making some last photos.  And to celebrate our impending departure, we stopped by a special shop we had found, selling the most wonderful flavors of ice cream you can imagine.  Who would have ever thought you could buy gourmet ice cream in the most isolated place on earth?  Next time you are here, you simply must try the tres leches in a sugar cone.  It comes piled high—two scoops at least, and the flavor is, as they say, to die for.  Thick and creamy, with at least 16% butterfat, with the smoothest flavor imaginable.  We even forgot our clothing predicament, until the management politely requested us to please take our cones outside.

 Moai protecting the island again, at Anakena beach.

            You have been patiently awaiting the writer’s theories on the creation, use, and fate of the moai on Easter Island.  The conclusions that follow are meant for only a few select eyes.  Hopefully you will be honored at having been chosen to be one of those with special knowledge. Now you may share the truth with friends whenever the subject of the moai on Easter Island is raised in casual conversation.  You need feel no obligation to credit the writer by name; a simple, “I have it on high authority . . .” will do.

            Only a few Polynesians, history’s most skilled ocean navigators, arrived on Rapa Nui after a 2,000 mile trip sometime before the year 1,000.  They found a lush island, with plentiful water in the craters of the three main volcanoes that had created the island a million years earlier.  Their families planted crops they had brought, depended on the sea for nourishment other than fruits and vegetables, and lived in a virtual paradise.  Over a few hundred years, their numbers grew into the thousands and the strongest and brightest became chiefs and priests.  The latter two leaders, as so many around the world before and since (Egypt, Angkor, China, etc.), realized it was important to keep the natives busy, and to promise them great rewards for their work.

            The religion that had been brought from Polynesia underwent rapid changes, culminating with a belief that various paternal gods would inhabit great stone likenesses, if only the likenesses could be built and transported around the island.  The gods would keep watch over and shield the villages and the island.  The people were promised protection from evil spirits so long as the eyes of the idols were gazing toward them, and an eternal afterlife as an even greater reward for their work.  The idols were made larger and larger as the years went by, fed by a belief that larger spirits would defend against more power forces.  As promised, no evil befell the people.

            Then one day a strange sailing ship appeared, with strangely dressed men, who came onto the island and proceeded to use strange, loud weapons to kill some of the people—without reason, as far as the people could tell.  When the intruders left, strange diseases began to infect the people, and many died of inexplicable causes.  The moai had failed to protect the island.  The chiefs and priests had lied; the spirits in the moai were weak and useless.  The people ceased to worship the idols—toppled them, removed their eyes and tossed them into the sea.

            A new system of selecting leaders was created:  the precursor of term limits, known as the birdman competition.  This lasted until the enslavement and removal of the people from the island.  The destruction of the written language of the people—except for 28 remaining wooden tablets—insured that no one (present company excepted) would ever know the entire truth about the mysterious moai of Easter Island.

           But as Roger observed, the giant stone images that were created to protect the people of Easter Island are again, in their special way, providing protection in the way of attracting 50,000 tourists each year.  Tourism is the only industry here, and without it, the people would not survive.  But as tourism continues to grow exponentially in a place that has little infrastructure and no waste water system, we will leave it to the reader to decide whether the existence of the moai will ultimately lead to the destruction of the island.

            As this is written on our LAN flight to Lima, we await a miracle there.  The person who promised our bags would be on the 5:30 flight from Santiago today made one last promise before our departure:  the bags will be waiting for us in Lima.  Somewhere.

Charlie and Roger

© 2013