Day 667: Oh, Peru

 

Too many things. Of course there are, and they pale into the distance the longer it takes me to write.

Where to start? ~With the pregnant cat who gave us such pleasure in Santa Clara, with her skinny frame and her enormous belly, her softness, her constant presence. What about the 'us' she gave pleasure to? The beautiful, funny, complexly bound Argentinian sisters Sandra and Adri, who made my experience there so much richer when I moved to share their little house with them that I stayed almost an extra week, paying to change my flight to the mountains I'd yearned for. How about Raphael, savvy, clever, understated, very funny, multilingual and really fucking patient. He enriched my time there too. How about macrame fiend Antoine, 23 and all Frenchness and laughter, a rapay fiend too (not my preferred spelling, but without easy accentage on the 'e' I've substituted with 'ay', I'd be painting him in a pretty grim light). And Sebastian, Eric and Claire, travelling in different shapes in time and with varied purposes, all thrown together.

How about shaman Jose (Josay?), blessed with gentleness, integrity and patience, and his 'reina' and beloved wife, Juana, strong, tranquil, beautiful. How about Shaman sister Maria, 72 and still carrying water buckets I'd struggle with, up at dawn (5.30) to work all day, as were they all. How about Nicole and Chico, 6 and 5 respectively, both bickering and laughing almost constantly, playing with anything and nothing. Chico built us some seating outside our casita with wooden planks the heaved from underneath the house.

How about the five kittens said pregnant cat (named gatita (little girl cat), michi (kitty), Sweet Girl and latterly, by Armando, Yarina) did on Eric's bed one night as he slept, by his head, so he woke up to find placenta and three sticky kittens right next to his face. The next day in the morning, she pushed out another two, still on his bed, all healthy, and lay exhausted with them scrabbling to latch on and feed. She has more nipples than kittens, but still they push each other out of the way.

How about a lovely visit from Armando, Roger and Maycol from my time at Amelia’s house, Armando for whom I feel a great warmth and curiosity, as he is all the right way as far as what matters goes; outrageously model-boy handsome (and 22-year-old) Roger, already a father, blessed with a sweetness of soul and some calm wisdom and very affectionate; and Maycol, a practising rapper and easy giggler, a really lovely boy (17, I think). They drove all the way from Pucallpa in a motokar and rocked up just like that.

We all (them, Sandra, Antoine, Rapha, a bunch of kids and Toby, the ginger-eyed black dog who revelled in the whole outing and came along of his own accord, loving the water and the attention. Watching Sandra and Rapha dance and swim in the water was one of my favourite things ever; river water that swung from hot to cold in inexplicable ways. That day felt idyllic, and indeed it was, ending in a strong ceremony and some even deeper bonding with Sandra and Rapha. Beautiful.

Followed by Fin, beautiful soul and Fine Young Man and his parents, here to visit him in Peru. I love them all and I’ve loved hanging out with them for the last four or five days. It’s been mint. They are mint. Fin has energy and easy joy. He moves a lot, whether it be to dance, to try brave handstands or to wrestle with dogs. Fiona has a gentleness about her that I like very much, and such warmth. Paul is big and funny and has smile lines like eagles’ feet, not crows’. He is generous and honest and easily teasy.

What about constantly smile-ridden Fabian from Switzerland, smiling with his eyes first; a loping young boy-dog called Rocco who bites and plays at the most inconvenient of times, rejoicing in waiting until smaller, older Toffee is asleep to pounce and bite his legs; patient Hanu (Hanuman), big, blond, scruffy, whose house has been invaded by these other strays; and the ridiculously named Beyonce, the only girl dog in the pack, sweet-smelling and delightful. Their owners Paul and Sue care as well for them as they do for the people who visit them, if not more (and they care for us very, very well indeed).
I have been blessed by abundant hummingbirds, sparrow-hawks and flitting, nameless birds. I have watched stars appear and moons change size and shape and colour. I have gazed at mountains in awe and yearning,there are landscapes and skies and shooting stars, motokars that flow in a river of weavy traffic and taxis packed with ten people (three in the boot with luggage) navigating muddy/dusty roads full of holes and puddles. 

There are sunsets to die for and misty sunrises to revel in; there are nights of unbearable heat and now some that are cold like a British winter night, despite hot and skin-burny days that descend into wind buffets by 3pm, blowing the endless market merchandise from the stalls. There is beauty everywhere, poverty too, dirt and humbling displays of nature, but above all that, it’s the people who make this trip come alive, who give all this wonder context.
Bouncing around in the boot of a taxi could have felt like a chore alone, but with Sandra, it was an adventure. Driving through Pucallpa in motokar is neither here nor there, but sitting in one with Seb and weaving in and out of getting ahead of or behind them was great fun. Failing to find a boat to Yarina would piss me off alone, but in a friendly pack, it’s just another experience to be enjoyed.
Thank you, people flowing in and out of where I am. Thank you for making this an experience to be grateful for. All the less than easy experiences that have also helped shape this trip have been more fathomable, interesting and wisdom-inducing thanks to you people. I give my gratitude freely, to you and to the forces that brought us all together. Thanks, all.I feel beautifully blessed. 
PS - sorry for all the gaps. Very hard to navigate getting photos in the right place on this computer.