Art and the City

I admit that I had never heard of Oswaldo Guayasamin, Ecuador’s most famous painter, before we arrived in Quito.

Self Sculpture

Self Sculpture

Born in poverty in 1919, Guayasamin devoted his artwork to portraying indigenous people, racial discrimination, injustice, violence and the plight of the poor. Powerful stuff. One of his famous quotes is “I cried because I had no shoes until I saw a child that had no feet.” The Fundacion Guayasamin site contains the artist’s former home and studio (he died in 1999) with its breathtaking mountain views, a museum called La Capilla del Hombre (Chapel of Man) that Guayasamin designed before his death and, as an added bonus, a small archeological site. It was amazing. An absolute must-see for anyone visiting Quito.

Mural

Mural

The exterior of La Capilla del Hombre is bunker-esque, but inside the space is perfect, just as the artist envisioned.

La Capilla de Hombre

La Capilla de Hombre

The Capilla del Hombre is a tribute to man, in particular the struggles and sufferings of Latin Americans. The museum has an eternal flame on the ground floor that represents a prayer for peace and human rights. Matt snuck some pictures.

Suffering

Suffering

While it was definitely our favorite museum, we also enjoyed other museums and artwork around the city.

Wheelie Art:

The National Museum of Quito is housed in a complex that includes theaters and a few other museums and has some cool outdoor art. Pictures are forbidden in the museum (this time Matt complied) but the works ranged from pre-Colombian pottery and the like to religious art from the Colonial era.

In the same complex is a modern art museum and we stopped in and enjoyed some work of Francisco Urquiza. I have no idea who he is but his paintings were really cool!

Another museum visit, to the Casa De Alabado, was also well worth it although we again have no pictures to share. It had pre-Colombian artwork of the indigenous cultures. Finally, we enjoyed the Museum of Contemporary Art. Housed high on a hill overlooking the city in an old military hospital, the museum has rotating exhibits. We saw three: a student photography exhibit, an Italian exhibit of art from the 1960s (psychedelic, baby!) and Art in Orbit, devoted to outer space. Art in Orbit included a room at the end, complete with bean bag chairs, where one could watch various sci-fi movies.

I loved the room of gowns by Italian designer Fausto Sarli. Che Bello!

The 60s art was dizzying with its play on dimensions. This piece was awesome and photographed pretty well. It was 2D but the pixie stick lines looked real!

2 Dimensional, but looks 3D!

2 Dimensional, but looks 3D!

And last, but not least, if you can’t make art, join it!

Photo Bomb

Photo Bomb

Quito – the City that Grew on Me

We have passed the 3 week mark in Quito, Ecuador. While this isn’t ideal and we would rather be getting on with our new life on the Galapagos Islands, there are worse places to spend a few weeks as you wait for your visas. Well, not just visas: we finally got those last week but now need the special permission to live on the Galápagos Islands. Nothing seems to be going easily, but we are trying to enjoy our time despite the frustration of waiting.

Relaxed

Relaxed

Quito is situated in the Andes at 9,350 feet above sea level. That hasn’t posed a problem for us because we were used to living in the Andes in Cajamarca. For a capital city with a population of about 2.6 million, Quito feels surprisingly accessible. We are staying in an apartment (thank you, Airbnb) in the Mariscal Foch area, which is a great location for us. We can walk to a number of parks, restaurants, malls, the Old Center etc. Initially Quito did not rock my world – it was nice but not spectacular. However, the more time we have been here, the more I appreciate it. (Except the food. Peruvian food is much better.) A mountain view anywhere you look is a selling point.

View from the Apartment

View from the Apartment

One of my favorite things about Quito is the many parks. We have walked through Carolina, Ejido, Arbolito and Alameda parks several times. It’s a toss up which is my favorite. Ejido and Arbolito Parks appear to be one park and have a lot of trees (hence the name “Arbolito” or “Little Tree”), making for a nice walk. All of the parks are well used by families, couples, groups of people and, as we saw yesterday, card players. I didn’t get a picture, but it cracked me up – crowds of men around an overturned box, cash flying. Initially we thought it was a shell game but then we saw the cards. I’m not sure what game is being played or whether my assumption is correct that it is illegal, but I am intrigued.

Park Carolina is a ginormous park. It has a running track, soccer fields, lagoon, old airplane, and, my favorite part, a wonderful botanical garden. I have dragged a somewhat reluctant Matt to botanical gardens everywhere we have visited and he agreed this one was the best. It might have been because the weather was perfect – low 70s and partly cloudy (key at the equator) – so it was pleasant to stroll around. There were many different exhibits and 2 greenhouses: one devoted to carnivorous plants and one to orchids. I wanted to see a bug get eaten in the Carnivorous greenhouse, but no such luck.

The Orchid Greenhouse contains over 1,200 Ecuadorian species of orchids and is a highlight of the gardens.

Our walks in the parks have been educational and relaxing. Not a bad way to pass the time.

Next Up: Great Museums and The Middle of the World!

Beautiful Basilica de Voto Nacional

“Are these people nuts?” It seems that I ask this question frequently in South America although not often in a church. I am looking at a rickety, unenclosed, 3 story ladder (unless you count the netting and I do not) that leads to the top of the one of bell towers of the magnificent Basilica de Voto Nacional in Quito. A stiff wind is blowing and as I watch, a septuagenarian makes the very wise decision to turn around and descend the ladder on her rear. There is a line of people waiting to ascend and the look of horror on my face makes it clear that I am not planning the climb. Another lady confesses that she made it three steps and had to turn back. I console myself with the fact that the view from the base of the bell tower is fantastic and causing an international incident by getting stuck on the ladder isn’t really necessary. While I am a wimp when it comes to climbing – actually descending – open staircases, this climb isn’t for the faint of heart. The Basilica sits high atop a hill in the city and the towers are 377 feet high.

Basilica de Voto Nacional

Basilica de Voto Nacional

The funny part is that I didn’t feel that the rest of our climb around the Basilica was particularly safe. On the second story balconies we had to climb across crumbling corners and navigate electrical cords everywhere. Guardrails? Please. Apparently, your faith will protect you from harm! But touring the Basilica was well worth the risk – it is as spectacular as its views. It is patterned after Notre Dame and the Gothic design is fantastic. My favorite part was the native species gargoyles although the brilliant stained glass was a close second. The nave itself is unfinished and a bit cold feeling, but there is a small chapel, La Capilla de Sacramento, that is stunning in its decoration. Unfortunately, photos are not permitted in the Chapel.

Pope John Paul II blessed the Basilica in 1985 and this welcoming entrance was one of my favorite parts of the building.

Pope John Paul II

Pope John Paul II

A Great Good Friday in Quito

I was having flashbacks to my Catholic school upbringing. I had stumbled into the courtyard of the Basilica del Voto Nacional on Good Friday and discovered a live enactment of the Stations of the Cross. It was odd – tourists were crowded about, taking pictures and videos, teenagers were cracking up over the fake whippings with ketchup used as blood, no one seemed to be relating the spectacle to the event. But as I watched longer, it seemed appropriate – a crucifixion was entertainment in its day, not unlike the horrific public stonings or executions in other countries in the present day. Or maybe that was just my excuse so we could take pictures too.

Welcome to Good Friday in Quito, Ecuador. A mix of sacred and carnival, Quito has a Good Friday Procession, Jesus del Gran Poder (Jesus of Great Power), that draws thousands for the 4 hour event. Many of the faithful dress in the purple robes and cucuruchos (cone hoods) of the penitent. Others dress as Jesus or Veronica, the woman believed to have wiped Jesus’s face, or Roman soldiers. Many carry crosses, some whip themselves with stinging nettles or have them wrapped around their bodies, the red welts apparent, and others have barbed wire wrapped around themselves, eating into their flesh. The parade also includes priests broadcasting sermons and prayers and marching bands. It is quite a spectacle.

View of the Procession and Virgen De Quito from the Cathedral

View of the Procession and Virgen De Quito from the Cathedral

Many of the crosses are huge and carried by several people. They stagger a few yards with the cross before dropping it with a thud.

Over halfway through the procession, we saw this father and son on a side street getting dressed to join the procession.

Also notable were the number of children in the parade. Just what did they have to be so penitent about?

This man also seemed to have suffered enough in his life.

Injured Cross Carrier

Amputee Cross Carrier

After the procession we enjoyed another Semana Santa (Holy Week) tradition: Fanesca. A special soup made only for Semana Santa it contains 12 grains and milk and is served with salted cod, boiled egg, fried plantains, slices of peppers, fried empanadas, fried empanada dough (masitas) and fresh cheese. The proprietors of the restaurant in which we ate were very friendly, eager to explain the special nature of the soup to us and concerned that we were happy with our meal. We were – it was delicious and filling.

The Wait Is Over – Galapagos, Here We Come!

I started writing this post before Matt secured his job as director of the Tomás de Berlanga school on Isla Santa Cruz in the Galapagos Islands, Ecuador. When I saw it in the archives it brought back all of the uncertainty we were feeling at the time, which continues in a reduced form to the present time as we hang out in Quito waiting for our visas to be processed, with our belongings somewhere in Lima, waiting to be shipped to us.

The waiting is the hardest part. Okay, that probably isn’t true for Matt. For me, it’s the hardest part: wondering where we will be moving, where Matt will find a job. For Matt, the hard part is the endless interviewing, selling himself multiple times a week and sometimes multiple times a day.

For our time at Davy School and in Peru is coming to an end. Unfortunately, within a few months of our arrival in Cajamarca in July 2013 the mine that funded that school announced it was cutting its support by 50% in 2014 and 2015 and then exiting the school business altogether by 2016. Matt’s expat salary, and those of the other expats, was an obvious place to cut costs. While the school would honor the contracts, the sooner we all left, the better. Matt’s contract is up July 2015, so this provided ample time to find a job.

I realize that many, many people have been involuntarily without work, but it was a first for both Matt and me. I also realize that he has had several months of lead time to start looking for a job, which is a luxury most people don’t have. But we don’t have a home. We sold everything when we decided to embark on the this expat life. We live in Peru because Matt’s job is here, but as soon as his job ends, his work visa is revoked and we need to leave. Where will we go?

So in August Matt began applying for jobs that were opening in January (Davy would be thrilled to release him from his contract) or July. Our geographical parameters were broad: South and Central America, most of Southeast Asia, Europe, Taiwan and Hong Kong. For political, safety and assorted reasons, the Middle East, Africa and Mainland China were off our list, as was Venezuela. And so the interviewing began. We didn’t keep track, but Matt made it to the “semi-finals” for several schools. It was exhausting for both of us. With every round of interviews we speculated endlessly. This one was the place, the location of our dreams. We would research weather, apartments, safety, etc. in an effort to convince ourselves that it was meant to be. Then, once we reached a comfort level and got enthusiastic over the possibility, Matt wouldn’t get the job. And on we would move to another part of the world.

But then, it happened. In February Matt received a tentative offer for a school in the Galapagos Islands and an invitation for both of us to visit. So we went. Matt was instantly sold; I was not. I don’t know what I was expecting, but Puerto Ayora wasn’t it at first glance. It was, well, sort of Peruvian, but very expensive. Not the resort island I had expected.

The next day I walked to this beach. And fell in love.

The beaches aren’t the only highlight of the Galapagos. The Darwin Research Station is pretty amazing too.

The highlight of our initial visit to The Station, as it is called, was the Giant Tortoise fight. One tortoise appeared to be the aggressor and would saunter over to the other tortoises, stick its head out and then sort of bite one of the others. The other one would sloowly back away and then the first one would lie down for awhile before starting over. It may not sound like a Tyson-Holyfield bout, but let me tell you, it was pretty darn entertaining!

Another favorite spot was Las Grietas, which translates not very well as”The Cracks”, a deep chasm of volcanic rock with unbelievably blue, cool, fresh water. The trip requires a water taxi to “the other side” of the island and a nice walk to Las Grietas, but it is well worth it despite the crowds. Apparently there is a hole somewhere in the cliff and you can dive down into another pool. We plan to try it with our new snorkeling equipment.

So in the end, we are both delighted to be moving to Puerto Ayora, Isla Santa Cruz, Galapagos Islands, Ecuador. And the adventure continues…

Paradise

Paradise

The Long Reach of the IRS

Filing taxes isn’t fun for anyone, but I am an idiot when it comes to forms. So for years Matt handled our taxes using Turbo Tax. I would review them, make a few corrections (Turbo Tax isn’t perfect) and generally the process was pretty painless. Then came 2013 – the year we moved abroad.

The United States and Eritrea (no clue where that is) are the only two countries in the world that impose income taxes on the foreign income of non-resident citizens. To the surprise of many expats, this means that even if you have lived abroad for many years and have made no money on US soil, your foreign income is subject to US income tax and you have to file a tax return.

I will spare you the tax details, but in general if you are an expat you are allowed to exclude a certain amount of your expat income from taxation if you meet one of two foreign residency tests. One of the tests – physical presence – we couldn’t meet in 2013 because we spent too much time in the US that year so we had to get an extension to file our 2013 taxes in 2015 – after we lived in Peru for a calendar year.

So last December I sat down to work on the 2013 taxes we would be filing in January. I gathered all of Matt’s Davy pay stubs, actually figured out what everything meant on them, pulled up our W2s from our US jobs in 2013 and logged onto Turbo Tax. Denied! No computer system is available for taxes after October of the filing year, even though we had an extension. Thus began about 80 hours of reading tax forms, IRS guidance, and occasionally IRS regulations all in an effort to figure out how to determine our stinking taxes. I discovered that given our situation of both US income and Peruvian income I actually needed to figure out our taxes using 3 different methods. By hand. It was worth it because under one method we owed about $6,000 and under another, we had a $1,600 refund. Guess which one I chose!

We don’t have a printer here, so at one point in this process, I decided to go to an internet cafe to print off the forms and some of the tax instructions because I needed to complete the various worksheets on them. I had never been in one because we have internet in our home, but they are usually packed with kids playing computer games. This day was no exception although the occasional businessman stopped in, presumably to check email (or surf porn, who knows). It took me awhile to figure out the process, but in the end I had to download the documents I wanted to a drive and then go up to the clerk and ask him to open and print the documents for me. At one point he had to send a kid out for more paper and the kid returned with about 100 sheets – not a full ream, mind you! After about an hour I had about 60 pages of what I needed and called it a day.

Once in Wisconsin, I finished up the Wisconsin return and then encountered my next glitch – the paper size in Peru is slightly different than in the US so scanning and copying wasn’t working properly. After several meltdowns the returns were in the mail. But the fun wasn’t done.

First, the Wisconsin Department of Revenue ignored both the address on our tax return and the cover letter indicating our address and sent our refund to our old home, which we haven’t owned for over a year and a half! Thankfully, the kind new owner tracked me down via social media and got the check sent to Matt’s mom’s house for us. Today, after being on hold for over an hour, I learned that the IRS decided to mail our refund to us in Peru despite the fact that I provided bank information for direct deposit and a cover letter indicating that any correspondence should be sent to Matt’s mom’s house. ARGG. It’s anyone’s guess whether we will ever see that check because mail does not get delivered here, so now we will have to periodically trek to the post office to see if it has arrived. Only after a month can we ask the IRS to “investigate” what happened.

But I did learn from all of this. Our 2014 taxes were filed using Turbo Tax today. It was still several hours of work to tell the IRS we don’t owe them any money, but at least is is done. I hope.

To Flush or Not to Flush

After 3 weeks in the US and almost a week in Panama City, Panama, we were back in Peru. I was reminded of this the minute I stepped into the ladies’ room at the airport.

Don't Flush the TP

Don’t Flush the TP

Yep, you read that correctly. Don’t flush the toilet paper. In the toilet. These signs are prevalent in Peru, but I have to admit – even if I am reading the sign, the TP often goes right in the toilet. Why? Because it’s toilet paper. As Matt said, it is not called poopy paper: it is specifically designed to be flushed. So my practice is that if there is a sign, I do my best to override 44 years of toilet training and throw the paper in the trash can. But if there is no sign, all bets are off and in the toilet the paper goes.

But I was never really sure about the propriety of my actions. Every private home also has a covered garbage can in the bathroom, but I preferred to assume this was to throw out Kleenex and the like. Unfortunately, when we rented our very nice vacation apartment in Lima, a similar sign reared its ugly head. I pointed it out to Matt. “Ugh, no way,” was his reaction. After I mentioned that he would be the one plunging any blocked commode, we both did our best to comply. Gross.

One evening over drinks, I asked our Peruvian friend Korinne about the proper etiquette. “So, if I am at someone’s house, can I flush the toilet paper?” I casually worked this question into our conversation. She was aghast. “No, it wouldn’t be polite!” The horrified look on her face was priceless. It was as though I had asked if I could poop on the floor. Matt sought clarification, “So it is more polite for me to put shitty paper in your garbage can?” “Yes, of course.”  She sought to clarify: “The pipes aren’t very big and can get blocked.” This makes sense with objects apart from toilet paper. We all know the yahoo who ran out of TP and thought a napkin or paper towel would suffice. Or maybe if the home was old and had poor plumbing. But Korinne didn’t budge.

So now I know. And wish I didn’t.

 

Selling a Cow to Buy a Computer

My housekeeper, Maria, asked me about a month ago if I could bring back a laptop from the US for her nephew. He is hoping to study engineering next year and the family thought it would be beneficial if he got a computer. While he could buy a laptop here, apparently the prices are much better in the US. Generally Matt and I decline to bring back electronic items for people because we don’t want the responsibility or the potential to have to pay import taxes on it when we return to Peru. And because I am usually using a kitchen scale to stuff the last permissible 6 ounces into my luggage. But given that Maria’s family is not wealthy and would not have access to other people traveling to the US, I agreed to help her out.

Magnificent Maria

Magnificent Maria

I asked Maria what computer her nephew wanted. He didn’t know and she suggested that I just pick one out for him – they trust me. Are they kidding? I know nothing about computers except that I pitch a fit when ours doesn’t work properly and whine to Matt until he solves my problem. I suggested that her nephew talk to friends, someone at the university – basically anyone but me. I did contact my nephew, a US college student, to enlist his aid. He came up with a couple of low cost options and I presented them to Maria along with website addresses for her nephew to review them. (Now I know you are thinking, “but Kerry, her nephew doesn’t have a computer, you idiot.” Rest assured that there are internet cafes, and I am using the word cafe very loosely, all over our town.) And I heard nothing more about it.

Now Peruvians tend to bring up important matters at the last minute. I let the computer issue rest for awhile because I really didn’t want to be responsible for bringing one back with us. But I adore Maria and I knew she felt awkward asking the favor in the first place, so last week I asked if her nephew had decided on a computer. The response? “Well, it depends on whether they can sell a cow.” What?! The long and the short of it was that her brother needed to sell a cow to get the money for the computer. He took the cow to the market but the prices were just too low. The family suspects the low prices are because everyone is saving their money to buy turkeys for Christmas, so beef is not in demand. He tried again this past weekend, but the prices were still too low and he couldn’t take the loss on the cow. So Maria’s nephew won’t be getting a computer this Christmas.

I am reminded that in 2014 Peru is still a developing country where the farm ladies in the market wear traditional garb and yet chat on cell phones and where someone might need to sell a cow to buy a computer.

Vendors

Vendors

 

Happy Birthday, Dear Shannon!

 Happy Birthday, Shannon! This (true) story is for you.

THE SHARK

Opening Statements

“Hi Shannon, guess where I was this weekend?” I am on the phone with my 6-year-old niece.

“At the cottage?” She loves our cottage.

“Yep. I had a party. A bunch of my girl friends were there.”

“Did you catch any fish?”

Crap. I forgot about her fishing fascination. Think, Kerry, think. You are a lawyer. Answer truthfully and move on.

“Nope. But we swam and played games and-“

 

Cross Examination

“Weren’t they biting?” Shannon sounds skeptical.

Double crap. Think, think. Your job is to spin answers to tough questions.

“Nope, they weren’t biting.” Technically true: we weren’t giving them anything to bite.

 

In for the Kill

“Well, did you even try?” Her indignation is palpable.

The witness caves.

“No, we didn’t. We didn’t fish.”

Schooled, Counselor.

A Weekend in the Country

From the first time I heard of Granja Porcon, I had no interest in going there. About an hour from Cajamarca, numerous people mentioned it to us as a “must see” tourist site. But when I asked what one did there, all I heard was that it was in the country and had a zoo. In the country? Don’t I live in the country? Roosters wake me up long before dawn, cows graze on the side of the running path, horses frolic along the bank of the river a few blocks from my house, I recognize the burros that carry a farmer’s milk down our street every day…how much more country did I need? As for a zoo, I have mixed feelings about them and was pretty sure a small, private zoo would make me feel less mixed and more distressed. Add to the fact that Granja Porcon is run by Evangelists and had been described as both a commune and a cult and I was not sold.

But as our entertainment options are limited, when some friends suggested we go there for the weekend in order to take advantage of the hiking trials, I was persuaded. We set off Friday after work in Korrine’s dad’s car with Rodrigo as our driver. Our first stop was at the grocery store to buy some wine that we intended to “sneak” onto the grounds. To be honest, while alcohol was not served on the premises, I never saw any mention that it wasn’t allowed, but it added to our high school feel for the weekend: dad’s car and smuggled booze.

The drive out of Cajamarca was pretty and uneventful. After about an hour we arrived at the turnoff to Granja Porcon. Another 25 minutes and we were at the gate, just as the sun was setting. We had reserved a cabin and the guard gave us directions to get there. I tried listening to the directions in order to help navigate, but after he kept describing the roads we were not supposed to take, I gave up. We started up the mountain, darkness descended and we had no idea where we were going. We stopped at one place where we saw lights and the woman there told us to continue up the road. Just as we left, a man ran after us shouting that we should take a left – but left led us back down the mountain. We confirmed that we were supposed to go up the mountain, took a right to do so and then laughed at his “left” direction. 20 minutes later we were not laughing when we could see nothing and were utterly lost. We headed back down the mountain, intending to go back for more directions, when a lady on the side of the road waved us down, introduced herself as Marleny and told us that she had been waiting for us to show us our cabin. The “left” made sense as we had to take a left to go down a small, dark road that led only to the cabin – a left that was only about 5 minutes away from the house where we had asked directions! It was now about 8:00 and there was only one restaurant – back down the mountain – that was open to serve us dinner. We unloaded the car, nervously trying to hide our bottles, called in our dinner order and then began the trek down the mountain. Marleny came with us because she thought we would get lost otherwise. She was right!

The way back

The way back

Despite calling ahead by about 1/2 hour, the restaurant was deserted. A man quickly appeared and opened the place up for us. It was a cold, beautiful, rustic room with windows that overlooked the Porcon main square, but at the late hour we could only see a few lights in the distance. We enjoyed a lovely meal of chicken soup and fried trout and headed back up the mountain to our cabin, stopping to pick up a thermos of hot, boiled water from Marleny’s house. A few drinks later we called it a night. It was freezing in the cabin – the only heat was the fireplace in the main room and the beds had those old fashioned wool blankets that weigh you down so you can barely move. Matt and I slept with our hats on and were still cold!

Warming at the heath

Warming at the hearth

The day dawned overcast, but it was still breathtaking. It felt as though we were on a movie set – gorgeous setting, rustic cabin, cows mooing, lambs bleating and roosters crowing – unreal.

We headed back to the restaurant for a breakfast of caldo verde (my favorite soup) with numerous stops along the way to admire the vicuñas and avoid the lambs. Vicuñas are cousins of alpacas and llamas (and guanacos, another wild camelid in the Andes) and are prized for their wool, which can run up to $3,000 a yard! The animals can only be shorn every 3 years and then only about a pound of wool results from each animal. While they are described as shy, the ones at Porcon are obviously accustomed to tourists because we got amazingly close to them. They were gorgeous – so graceful and delicate. The lambs, on the other hand, were just hilarious. They were all over the road and it was all Rodrigo could do not to hit any of them. The downside of all the lambs was that meant there was no sheep cheese for sale – something I was really looking forward to as I am so tired of the limited cheese selection here.

Once we tore ourselves away from the vicuñas, I then became fascinated by a hummingbird feeding outside of the window at the restaurant. It was quite a dramatic scene when another hummingbird appeared and they began fighting. In addition the view was breathtaking.

Fight!

Fight!

After breakfast, we wandered into the town to check out the weaving shops, dairy and zoo.

I found the dairy products to be disappointing – while there were some decent fresh cheeses with herbs and a brick that was sharper than anything else here, nothing came close to amazing Carr Valley or other Wisconsin-produced cheeses. The others were hyping the ice cream and I, lover of Kopps frozen custard, couldn’t wait. What a letdown! The so-called “ice cream” was really ice-milk on a stick and not at all creamy. There were many exotic fruit flavors, but that was little consolation for me. After that crushing disappointment, we headed to the zoo.

 

Zoo Sign

Zoo sign

The zoo was interesting. One the one hand, the old-fashioned, small enclosures were incredibly depressing. But all zoo enclosures are depressing – no matter how big the enclosure, the lions and tigers still pace in captivity, the birds can’t fly free and many animals are far from their natural habitats. On the other hand, it was unbelievable how close we could get to the animals. As I was watching the spectacled bears, native to Peru, walk along the fence, a little girl stuck her finger into the enclosure and I started panicking, wondering if it is socially acceptable for a stranger to yell at a kid when you think she might lose a finger (and then, to try to think of how to say it in Spanish!). Thankfully, her mother saw her in the seconds these thoughts raced through my brain and pulled her away. Yikes!

After the zoo and a mediocre meal in town, we headed back up the mountain to our paradise. Marleny, who was parking cars in town, tried to persuade us to stop at the trout farm or come back to see the 4 o’clock milking, but as neither of those things are novelties to us, we declined and relaxed the afternoon and evening away. Well, except for the parts where Rodrigo smoked us out of the house by trying to start the wood stove in the kitchen, not realizing that he had blocked the flue and that we didn’t have the key to the kitchen door so there was no ventilation and then, when Marleny showed up unannounced and we scurried around trying to hide our wine bottles and glasses!

We were all in bed by 10 pm, but that allowed Rodrigo, Matt and me to get up early and climb to the summit of Mt. Porcon the next morning. It was only an hour hike on a dirt path to reach the top and the views were amazing. After all my reluctance to go, I completely fell for Porcon and would love to go back to do more hiking. It was peaceful and picturesque – the perfect getaway weekend.