And Hell Froze Over: The Day I Joined Facebook

Posted on by under The 1st Transition- Wisconsin to Peru

I jump onto most popular bandwagons late, and Facebook is no exception. But unlike the others, to which I wasn’t opposed, just disinterested until I was interested, I was flat-out opposed to Facebook. “I keep in touch with my ‘real’ friends. I don’t want to read what someone ate for breakfast, be annoyed by political rants, hear every day that someone loves her kids or husband…” my list was endless when someone would encourage me to join Facebook. “No one wants to read what I ate for breakfast, listen to my political rants, or hear I love Matt” was my next argument when the pressure would continue. When we moved to Peru almost a year ago, the pressure increased. But I was steadfast and I counteracted the arguments with this blog: everyone could keep up with my new life by reading my blog. And I could keep up with everyone else’s life via emails.

But that isn’t how it worked out. I learned that many people, even close friends and family (you know who you are), don’t answer my emails. Oh, I know that I have a lot of time on my hands these days compared to just about everyone else, but when those same folks are posting all over Facebook, but not responding to me, clearly time isn’t the issue. “Send a Facebook message,” Matt would tell me, generously offering his account for my amusement. And sometimes I would. And get an immediate response. This pattern deepened my Facebook boycott: if one has time to acknowledge me via one medium, why not another? Especially when both of the media are essentially the same.

Then there was the hypocrite factor. On more than one occasion, I asked Matt to friend one of my friends so that I could see her family photos and keep up with her life. As time passed and I missed family and friends more, I spent more time (usually late at night after Matt was in bed) cruising his Facebook account, seeing what I was missing and keeping up on friends and families’ lives. Sometimes I even commented or “liked” something.

So today I took the impulsive plunge and joined Facebook. And immediately panicked. For the uninitiated, or those who joined so long ago that you forgot, the minute you sign up for your account, Facebook has you send out friend requests before it even walks you through the profile page. I knew enough to not expose my entire contact list to friend requests, but within literally seconds of sending out the first, targeted batch of requests I received several acceptances and messages. Panicked, I called my brother, “I just joined Facebook, what do I do?” Tommy laughed, “I know. I just sent you a message.” “That’s my problem; I don’t know how to get my messages or set up my profile and I have about 20 “friends” already.” I realized I was ducking out of view of my laptop’s camera as if these “friends” could all see me. “Fourteen, not 20.” Oh. How did he know that? He walked me through the process and gave me some tips that I will likely understand at some point.

While I joined Facebook, that doesn’t mean I have fully embraced it. I still fear getting friend requests from people I would rather forget or ignore, getting sucked into endless hours of reading drivel, and not liking people I used to like once I find out their political or religious opinions. But I hope the tradeoff of seeing all those great pictures and actually getting responses from some of my friends makes it all worth it.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Posted on by under Peru

I fired my first employee a month ago. The irony is that I spent almost 19 years as an employment attorney and in that time advised countless employers on how to properly terminate literally hundreds of employees. I gave seminars and wrote articles on the subject. But I had never fired anyone, a fact I admitted when giving advice to my clients. And I gave good advice; my problem was that I didn’t follow it with respect to Olga.

Rule #1 – Hire Well. Olga wasn’t our first choice of housekeeper, called an “empleada” (employee) or “chica” here although I never referred to her as “chica” as I find it utterly disrespectful to call a grown woman “girl.” When we visited the school before moving here we had secured our housing and, we thought, a wonderful empleada, Esther. But as our now-friend Sarah was moving here with 2 year old twins, Matt’s boss decreed that Esther, who is great with kids, would work for Sarah. So we were out of luck. Matt’s coworker, Robert, offered to have Olga work for us – his wife and daughter had moved to the US and he was planning to leave Peru in December, so he didn’t need her anymore. Robert said Olga was honest, reliable and quiet. As we had no idea how to find someone suitable, and I was tired of cleaning our house after 2 weeks (hey, it’s dusty here!), we went the easy route and arranged to meet Olga.

The meeting didn’t go well. We had a horrible time trying to communicate, but attributed that to our Spanish deficiency. But we agreed to hire her because it was the path of least resistance – even though everyone from the maintenance workers at Matt’s schools to cab drivers to Esther herself had a wife, friend, cousin, who needed a job, it was too daunting to think about having the awkward interview again. But from day one I bemoaned that Olga was no Esther.

Rule #2 – Set Clear Expectations. Obviously, housekeepers are not the norm in the US, so I had no experience with having someone in my home 5 days a week. Yes, you are rolling your eyes and cursing me under your breath right now, but realize that in Peru it is the culture to hire people if you are middle class (and they usually work a half day on Saturday for you too). Even Matt’s teachers who complain to me about money and have to work extra jobs all have empleadas. Normally, an empleada does EVERYTHING for you – shops, cooks, cleans, does laundry, deals with service providers, pays bills, watches the kids, etc. Olga told us she didn’t cook, and I didn’t realize the full job of an empleada, so when she began she cleaned and did laundry. Matt and I joked that she had the best deal in town as with only two of us in the house, half the house is basically unused and our laundry minimal.

After about 6 weeks I went home for Angela and Craig’s wedding and their Colombian friend Jorge asked me how things were going in South America. I confessed that I was having a hard time with Olga – she cleaned okay, but she was obsessed with laundry – she would spend hours every day washing our clothes and we have a washer and dryer! Jorge tried to explain the culture of help and assured me that Olga wanted more to do and that I had to be firm about asking. He even made me practice some phrases. And he told me to fire her if I didn’t like her.

I returned to Peru confident that I could improve the relationship and feel less awkward in my own home. Because that was a big part of the issue – I was tiptoeing around Olga, who would take over 2 hours just to wash some dinner dishes from the prior night. Meanwhile I would be starving, waiting for her to get out of the kitchen so I could eat my breakfast. So I tried Jorge’s suggestions. I asked her to do laundry less often, to pay the one utility bill that can’t be paid on-line, to clean the dining room when I was having guests for lunch, to buy the cleaning supplies when she told me she was out of them … and had mixed success. She would never shop for me (except when I was terribly ill because  I think she knew she had to as Matt was at work) and would never do something when I asked – usually a few hours or days later – and she continued the incessant laundry. But she wasn’t a bad person and as I didn’t want to clean my own house and had plenty of time to shop and clean, I just complained instead of taking direct action.

Rule #3 – Don’t Ignore a Problem. As our Spanish improved, it became clear that while we were (and are) by no means fluent, we were generally understandable to other Peruvians. But not to Olga. Eventually we realized that she seemed to have a hard time communicating with other Peruvians too, not just us. She would look at the speaker and silently form words before responding. Needless to say, I was not learning any Spanish from her and our communication didn’t improve. In fact, I would clean things myself instead of asking her because it wasn’t worth my effort.

Rule #4 – Terminate Don’t Procrastinate. This is the most important rule of all and I sure broke it. For years I counseled clients to swiftly terminate when warranted because who knows what might happen in the interim between the decision and the act. I had decided to fire Olga – her performance had deteriorated.  She was spending endless hours in our house but doing little more than basic cleaning and laundry, she told us late one Friday night that she would be absent the following Monday and Tuesday due to a doctor appointment in Lima and I had been home all day but she hadn’t mentioned it (and honestly, we would have likely offered to pay her airfare so she could have avoided the 18 hour bus ride each way), she brought a stranger to the house to help her one day because she was leaving early and only told me her plans because I saw the woman and asked who she was… I was ticked. I had inquired about her doctor visit, not sure how much was appropriate to ask, and she gave me some vague answer about a problem with her spine and her stomach and assured me she could work. But I had finally had enough and an American friend who was returning to the US wanted me to hire her empleada, Maria. I had met Maria and loved her – another Esther, warm, friendly and could more or less understand me! The problem was that I couldn’t hire Maria for another few weeks and we were going on vacation and didn’t want the house vacant, so I wanted to keep Olga for just another month.

And then it got worse. Several times I saw her on the street when she was supposed to be working and once she left a workman in my house unattended. She always looked guilty when I saw her and would say she was getting lunch or that she had a bill she had to pay that day. I joked to Matt that I thought she had a boyfriend she was visiting. Finally, one morning I returned to the house unexpectedly and caught her leaving the house. When I asked where she was going she told me she was getting a friend to come help her. I asked why she would need help and she made a lame excuse about not reaching the high windows (mind you, she had never cleaned the windows before). I told her no, which shocked her as I had never said no to anything, and laid into her about leaving the workman unattended and where she was going all the time. She got very defensive and again said lunch. I would have fired her on the spot, but I didn’t have the cash to pay her and Matt had the ATM card. But I resolved to do so as soon as possible.

Rule #5 – Be Prepared for the Termination Meeting. This was the one rule I didn’t break. Once I knew I was firing Olga, the attorney in me sprung into action and I got everything lined up. I was paying Olga severance and had been told to have her sign a document saying we had paid her all of her wages in addition to the severance, so I had one of Matt’s teachers write the document for me. Sarah agreed that we could hire Esther to watch our house while we were all on vacation and talked to Esther who was willing to do so. On the way home Matt and I stopped for cash and I told him that if Olga was there I was firing her that night.

She was and Matt made an immediate beeline upstairs, where he would spend the next 1 1/2 hours while I did the deed. I sat Olga down and told her that it was her last day. She was shocked and asked why and I told her that we didn’t communicate well, that her performance had been slipping and that she didn’t seem interested in working lately. She started silently crying and I felt absolutely awful but stuck to my guns despite her pleas that she would improve. And then she played her trump card and said “blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,” or at least that is what I understood, with a very expectant look on her face. I responded that I didn’t understand and then she said the words every employer dreads to here “Estoy embarazada” – I’m pregnant. Crap. I understood that one and asked her why she hadn’t told me. She gave a vague excuse and then added that she wasn’t working hard because she was in danger of miscarriage and that she was also going to doctor appointments when she left my house. Double crap. My mind was racing – in the US I could still fire her as I made the decision before I knew she was pregnant but I don’t know squat about Peruvian employment law. I then said the stupidest thing ever, something like “well maybe it will be better if you aren’t doing this kind of work then.” Thankfully, I doubt she understood me. I stuck with the plan and fired her anyhow. She asked if she could return the next day to get her things and I said no as I knew she would show up with an ultrasound or something and then I would feel like an even bigger jerk. So she got her things together and then we awkwardly waited 30 minutes for the cab I was sending her home in to arrive. UGH.

I lived in fear for the following week that someone would show up at my door and beat me up or worse, tell me that Olga had a miscarriage, but it has been over a month now and these things have not occurred (knock on wood). Even better, Maria began working for us a few weeks ago and is amazing. She works only 4 days a week and much shorter hours than Olga and does everything I ask her – including shopping and some cooking – and is excited to share her Peruvian recipes with me. We chat every day and sometimes even eat a meal together. It is wonderful not to feel uncomfortable in my own home and to be able to enjoy this big perk of my new life.

 

Wining Part II – Colchagua Valley, Chile

Posted on by under Chile, Travel

We left Mendoza and flew to Santiago, Chile, where we had an afternoon and evening before being picked up by our guide, Pablo, and driven to the Colchagua Valley for more wine tasting. We saw very little of Santiago, but it felt like any other large city in a Western country. So similar that I had flashbacks when we stopped at the Starbucks in the morning to get a muffin before hitting the road and I saw all the businessmen (yes, only men) in suits having meetings or on their laptops. I don’t miss that life!

We did have time in Santiago for two very nice meals. The first was lunch at Bar Liguria. We got a bit confused walking there and I finally stopped and asked a friendly-looking woman where it was. She was so friendly that she walked us there. She wanted to practice her English, and I happily obliged. Who said city dwellers are unfriendly? We sat outside at the restaurant and had a lovely meal, despite some issues trying to translate the menu. Food terms are so regional that our Peruvian knowledge was no help beyond the basics. Beth and Chris have this amazing app that translates text before your eyes that we were using until we were informed the restaurant has a no cell phone policy. Oops! I explained we were just translating the menu and the waitress sent over a waiter who spoke some English, so we could put the phone away. After walking around a bit and then relaxing for a few hours at our hotel, we had dinner at Aquí Está Coco, a renowned seafood restaurant. The decor and ambience were great – in particular the restroom sinks made out of tree trunks – and the food was good. As it was a Tuesday night, the place lacked energy and the vibe seemed a bit focused on clearing the joint so the staff could go home. But we had a good meal nonetheless.

Pablo, the owner of Grado Sur Expediciones, picked us up on Wednesday morning and we headed to the countryside. Pablo was great – fun, interesting, and spoke perfect English, an added bonus. His company handles more active tours, such as mountain biking and kayaking, and our ride reflected it.

Our Ride
Colchagua Valley

No need for the kayak/bike rack on this trip! But we were comfortable and it was good for the mountain roads (and our luggage). Pablo said that some of the nicer hotels give him the stink eye when he pulls up to collect guests, so we met him in the service drive at The W.

The fall colors in the Colchagua Valley were at their peak and grapes were still being harvested, so the valley was stunning. First stop was lunch at Viu Manent. Wow – the setting, the food, the wine, the service – everything was absolutely perfect.  We each ordered a different glass of wine and passed them around to have our own tasting. We didn’t tour the winery, but if I were ever in the area again I would definitely do the tour (complete with horse-drawn carriage) and have another meal there. Part of the attraction of the meal was that we were not limited to a set menu, as on our Mendoza tours, so we could have exactly what we wanted and each dish was a winner.

Gorgeous Colors
Chef at Viu Manent
Grapes
Quaint
Giddy-up
Matt, Kerry and Pablo

Second stop was the Laura Hartwig winery. Our tour was very nice, but we, and Beth in particular, were turned off by the winery’s label –  a prim picture of the now 83-year-old Laura back in the 50s. Very old-fashioned and it made us feel we were drinking wine with a aura of disapproval hanging over us. Really, check out her picture on the website and tell me if you think they could use a better marketing campaign! http://www.laurahartwig.cl/default.asp?id=52&ids=65. It was cool to see the barrels being filled and because our guide was so nice we bought a bottle of wine for us to drink with dinner that night.

Emptying the Tanks
Filling the Barrels
Working
Barrels
Our final stop was Museo Colchagua, our only museum of the trip. It was quite interesting, with exhibits ranging from fossils to pre-Colombian artifacts to steam engines to the Chilean mine rescue in 2010, complete with the drill bits they used to drill the escape passage and the capsule that freed the miners. Had we not imbibed generous amounts of wine, we likely would have appreciated it a bit more. We decided on a simple meal that evening and bought cold cuts, cheese and a frozen pizza to have for dinner at our quaint inn, Posada Colchagua. The proprietess was very sweet and opened up her kitchen for us and offered us  bottle of wine. We were so over-wined, that we had to decline.
Last Morning
Posada Colchagua

Day two started with a 2 hour drive through the mountains, instead of the 20 minute direct route to Viña Santa Cruz. For the record, I voted against it as I despise car rides, but I must admit that the views were impressive despite the fog. Even more impressive was the view from Viña Santa Cruz overlooking its vineyards.

Fog in the Valley
Love the Colors
How Crimson Is My Valley
Barrel Shot
Cool Barrel Room
Step Outside!
View from Viña Santa Cruz

Our guide described Viña Santa Cruz as a tourism winery and that was certainly true. We took a gondola to the top of the estate where there were three mini museums, each devoted to a different indigenous Chilean culture: Mapuche, Aymara and Rapa Nui (Easter Island). It was very interesting and Pablo was an informative guide. His descriptions made all of us want to visit Easter Island.

Moai
Mapuche Village
Closeup
Mapuche Stairway to the Spirit World
Lawn Art
Hut

After we descended our tour began and that is when it became apparent that wine is not the focus at Viña Santa Cruz. Our guide was impersonal and pedantic: he would ask us a question and stare at us until someone would venture a response. Usually he would tell us we were wrong with a curt “No!” I felt like I was in junior high and hadn’t studied for a quiz. Despite the $30 per person cost of the tour, we were only allowed to taste the cheapest wines they make. Pablo knew something was up when we left without buying a single bottle of wine.

We had lunch in Lolol, Pablo’s hometown, at a lovely local restaurant. We walked down the main street in the town and saw where the homes were destroyed from the earthquake in 2010. Much devastation and the rebuilding process is slow due to a lack of funds.

Lolol

Lolol

After lunch we went to Mont Gras for a tasting instead of a full tour. Our host Marcelo was animated and very generous with the pours, which included all the different price points of the wines. It definitely made up for our bad experience at Viña Santa Cruz and we bought wine to prove it!

Mont Gras
Sniff
Checking the Color
Hmmm
Having Fun
Marcelo
Team USA
Wines

We headed into Santa Cruz where Beth and I walked around the market, yep, just like everywhere else, while the guys had a drink. Afterwards we headed to dinner at the lovely Vino Bello. Good wines, Italian food and service made for a great last dinner together.

Our last day together started with some excitement – an earthquake measuring 4.7 on the Richter Scale shortly after we arose. Matt and I had never experienced an earthquake before so we were a bit freaked out, particularly after visiting Lolol the prior day. To me it felt like a truck hit the building and then 4 waves came through that rocked me simultaneously up and down and back and forth. Very odd sensation. We found out later that an earthquake that small isn’t considered anything by those who live in the area and Chris, who lived in California as a kid, didn’t even notice it!

We went to the swanky Lapostolle Clos Apalta winery for our only tour of the day. The owner is the great-granddaughter of the creator of Grand Marnier and it was impressive to see what old money and a good distribution system can do for a winery! The winery is organic and biodynamic, the latter of which I don’t totally understand but it includes elements of mysticism, moon cycles and the like. The winery is intended to look like a nest perched in the mountains and it uses gravity (something we also saw in wineries in Spain) as the force to create its wines, with the wines moving down 6 stories during the process instead of being machine moved. The winery was impressive, as it should be given the US $10 million price tag. It was an excellent final tour for our trip.

Bird’s Nest
Sun Dial Only Set to 5 Days in the Annual Growing Cycle
Sun Dial Markers
In the Bird’s Nest
Dizzying Staircase
As the Wine Flows…
Tanks
Granite Wall
Pendulum
The Best Part
Bucky Along for the Ride
Special Barrel
Wow
Yumm
Grand Marnier

But just because our tours were over didn’t mean our wine shopping was! We stopped at the Montes winery for our version of a tasting (ordering wines and sharing) and a snack. It was another lovely winery; the staff was friendly and the wines were good.

Beth at Montes
Patio
Friends Til the End
Delicious Snack
Final Tasting
Montes View

It was also interesting to see the fields being harvested. I made the mistake of saying “oh, those poor workers,” when I meant poor because they were engaged in back-breaking work while we were drinking, but I was mocked endlessly. Pablo’s brothers’ business is supplying the harvesters for the vineyards. We suggested they should also provide a wine shipping service as this was not available in the area as it had been in Mendoza.

Bike and Grapes
Harvest
Workers in the Field
Grapes

Our final winery stop was Las Niñas, a winery owned by 3 generations of women, for the express purpose of buying their “high heel” wine per Pablo’s suggestion. Unfortunately, we learned that they had relabeled the wine because they felt it was too feminine and not doing well in the market. Clearly they were not shipping to the US where novelty labels fly off the shelves, particularly if the wine is good! Our final stop before the airport was a quaint restaurant where we had the best empanadas ever and sopapillas (fried dough) with honey for dessert.

Empanada Restaurant
The Lab
Las Niñas
Last Hurrah

We had just enough time to get Beth and Chris to the airport for their flight. Then Matt and I collapsed for the night – no dinner and no wine – before we returned to Peru the next morning. All in all, an amazing trip. Most importantly, all 5 1/2 bottles made it safely home! photo 2

So Much Wine and So Little Time – Mendoza, Argentina

Posted on by under Argentina, Travel

Our friends Beth and Chris were our first South American guests. We couldn’t persuade them to come to Peru so we met in Argentina and Chile for a wine adventure. All adventures need some mishaps and ours started with a pretty big one: as Beth and Chris sat on the tarmac in San Antonio, TX, for their flight to Dallas, they received a text that their flight from Dallas to Santiago was canceled and they would be flying out the next day. We were all disappointed to be losing an entire day of vacation together, so we started off strong when they finally arrived in Mendoza.

Welcome Wagon
Here at Last!

First stop after our lovely inn, Villa Mansa, was the tiny tasting room at the Carmelo Patti winery per the recommendation of our driver, Marcelo. Carmelo was holding court, surrounded by other tasters, but warmly welcome us despite our limited Spanish. The wines were delightful and we each bought a bottle of the 2004 Gran Assemblage, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Malbec, Merlot and Cabernet Franc. Who said Mendoza is just about Malbec? A perfect first stop now that our trip was up and running!

Villa Mansa
Grapes
Villa Mansa View
Carmelo Patti Winery

Marcelo and Barbara at Villa Mansa attempted to get us last minute lunch reservations at Zuccardi, a popular winery owned by the cousin of a woman Beth and Chris met on the plane, but were unsuccessful. After calling other wineries, they finally got us a reservation at Vistandes. When we pulled up, we were pleased with the choice as it had the beautiful views its name suggests and the outdoor patio was lovely. Unfortunately, our initial server was terrible, the food was awful, and about 10 minutes into the meal I fell ill (no, not due to wine consumption!). We rushed back to Villa Mansa where I was indisposed the rest of the day and evening. While Matt and friends offered to stay on site, there wasn’t much that could be done for me, so they headed to Mendoza for dinner that night.

Vistandes
Statue

The next day I was vastly improved when we were picked up at 9:00 by Ampora Wine Tours to start our day of wining in the Uco Valley. Our guide, Sabrina, was very knowledgable and friendly and the other 4 tourers  – a Canadian, Brit, Swiss and Brazilian – were all pleasant company (no wine snobs, thank goodness). We learned that tasting wine early in the morning is best because your palate is at its freshest, so that became our excuse for drinking by 10 am each morning. First stop was the organic Bodega Domaine Bousquet.

Mountains, Wine and Water
Beth and Chris
Wine Residue
Post tasting
Back to the Soil
Hail Protection
The Final Product

We pulled ourselves away from the beautiful grounds and went to Bodega Gimenez Riili. This was our favorite stop of the day. Not only were the wines excellent, but the charming owner, Eduardo, gave our tour, complete with tank and barrel tastings. Our final tasting was on the beautiful patio and complete with cheeses, quince, bodega-made chocolate and fresh empanadas brought out by Eduardo’s wife. We could have sat there all afternoon in utter bliss and our only disappointment was that we couldn’t buy the chocolate to go with our wine.

Gimenez Riili
Tank Tasting
Wine Flowing
Barrel Tasting
Wine and Snacks

Our final stop was lunch at Bodega O. Fournier. We were late, so we caught the very end of the tour, which was fine as we had already heard the wine making spiel twice that day. The medieval barrel room was over the top and Matt spent the rest of the day humming the Raiders of the Lost Ark theme. Lunch was in a beautiful restaurant, with average food (I stand by my prior statement that Argentine beef is not impressive www.https://kerryedwyer.com/2014/02/14/bread-glorious-bread/) and nice wines, but the experience had a definite assembly line feel as we saw other tables from other tour companies throughout the room and the meal wasn’t as amazing as the setting. Except for the dessert, which was incredible and included a spun caramel confection, or as we preferred to call it, bird’s nest. Matt had to restrain himself from picking off the plates of our fellow diners who didn’t eat theirs. In addition, our wine glasses were readily refilled so that was a plus!

X Marks the Spot
O. Fournier
Lots o’ wines!

Beth and Chris were accumulating wine to ship at a brisk pace, so we headed to Mendoza after our tour to drop off their loot at Ampora. We wandered about the vendor stalls at Plaza Independencia, which felt very similar to wandering around any outdoor market in any country. Some things are apparently universal. We continued to walk around aimlessly, found another similar but smaller market, and ended up eating at Anna Bistró, where the other three had eaten the prior night because nothing else in the neighborhood was open so early  (it was only 7:30). It was very cute, with a nice patio, attentive service from a cute waiter and decent food. My cosmopolitan was terrible (we were all off wine by that point) but as I didn’t need more alcohol, I didn’t mind not drinking it.

Our next day was much like the prior one – Ampora tours picked us up at 9:00 and we were wine tasting by 10 am. Jorge was our guide and the four of us were the only guests, which made for a somewhat more relaxed atmosphere.  We visited the Luján de Cuyo region and started at Bodega Lagarde, which is right on a busy street in Luján de Cuyo with its vineyards behind it. They offer a pure Cabernet Franc, the first we had tasted on our tours, which both Matt and Chris loved. They also produce sparkling wines, which is a bit unique in the area, so we saw the racks where they hand turn the bottles during riddling – the process of getting the sediment to consolidate in the neck of the bottle for removal prior to final corking.

Largarde
Cool, Grafted Tree
Take a Rest
More Wine, More Fun!

One thing that amazed us on all of the tours is the manual labor involved in producing the wines – the grapes are harvested by hand, sorted by women (always women, we were informed repeatedly, due to their nimble fingers and attention to detail) at a long table, and, at some wineries, the stems and leaves removed by hand as well. Then, add on the time it takes to make good wine – several months in the casks and time in the bottle as well, and it is amazing that one can buy a decent bottle of wine for $10-$15!

Our next stop was Pulenta Estate, and apart from my notes that indicate we really loved these wines, the only other thing I remember is that the owner is a car aficionado and imports Porsches to Argentina. The winery had an area with some very cool engines and pictures of various cars. Maybe when we drink this bottle some additional memories will return!

Pulenta Cabernet Franc

Pulenta Gran Cabernet Franc

After Pulenta we went to Bodega Caelum, a small, family business owned by a woman and run by her son and daughter. The family had produced grapes for other wineries for 10 years prior to opening their own winery in 2009. The son, Hernán, conducted our tour and his pride in his family’s business was evident and endearing. The family took a lot of time in deciding the name and label and settled on Caelum, a small constellation in the southern hemisphere that depicts a sculptor’s chisel. The tour had a personal feel and Hernán even showed us how to hand-label a bottle and mentioned that on occasion he and his sister pitch in to do so if they need to get a shipment out. The wines were good, including a Malbec dessert wine that we hadn’t seen at the other wineries. The family also grows amazing pistachios, which we eagerly bought (although we ended up leaving a half of a bag behind in Mendoza as we knew they would be confiscated when we returned to Chile).

Caelum

Caelum

Our final stop of the tour was a gourmet lunch with wine pairings at Osadia de Crear at the Dominio del Plata winery. The meal was excellent, even the ribeye was decent, and we agreed it was our best meal in Mendoza, and that wasn’t because it was about 3:00 and we were in desperate need of food! The experience felt more personal than that at Bodega O. Fournier and the food was definitely better.

Osadia de Crear Menu

Osadia de Crear Menu

After the tour we returned to Ampora so Beth and Chris could ship their two cases of wine back to the US. Matt and I were jealous – due to the difficulty we have had in getting packages delivered to Cajamarca, we limited ourselves to the wine that I could pack in our suitcases (I have become a master at this practice due to the booze runs we make in Lima), which ultimately were 5 1/2 bottles – the half being the malbec dessert wine that Caelum cleverly advertises will fit in your shoe and it did in Matt’s size 12! The irony is that upon their return to the US, Beth and Chris determined that they can buy most of the wines they shipped in the US for only slightly more expensive prices while Matt and I cannot find any of the wines in Cajamarca.

Mendoza was just the start of our tour – next up, the Colchagua Valley, Chile.

An Expensive Loss

Posted on by under Peru

I lost my Carné de Extranjería, or Peruvian residency card, yesterday so now have to go through the process of getting a replacement card. To add to the pressure, Matt and I leave for Chile and Argentina next week, so I am anxious to get it replaced before our trip in order to avoid any problems at immigration when I try to leave or re-enter Peru. And you thought going to the DMV for a new license was bad!

To back up, getting the carné was a chore. To be fair, I suspect it is probably no easier for a foreigner to get a US visa. After filling out the paperwork, which thankfully Matt’s school’s attorney handled, I had to go to Lima to the Interpol office where I was fingerprinted, photographed and had my teeth inspected. Maria Katia, the school’s immigration attorney, guided me through the process and knew all the tricks and shortcuts, but it still was a few hours of lines and waiting. A few weeks later, on St. Paddy’s Day, I was summoned back to Lima to get the card. This process again involved several lines and a lot of waiting, but I left with the card in hand. Imagine my surprise when the clerk determined that I was a green eyed blond instead of a brown eyed brunette!

Yesterday, I went to run an errand in Cajamarca and specifically put my carné in my back pocket because I felt it was safer there as opposed to in my backpack. Wrong. Somehow, it was either picked (not likely) or fell out. After my errand, I caught a cab from the center of Cajamarca to the outskirts of Baños to get some exercise with a nice 3 1/2 mile walk home. So when I arrived at home and realized my loss, I walked the route two more times hopeful I would find my carné. I even mustered up my courage to ask two sidewalk sweepers if they found it and stopped at the police station to ask if anyone had turned it in. Apparently, it is not the culture to turn in a lost id (or anything, I guess) to the station. So they didn’t even understand what I was asking or why I would ask them.

After sending up prayers to St. Anthony and optimistically thinking that someone would show up at my door with my carné (no, it doesn’t actually contain my address) today I began the process of getting a replacement. Thankfully, Matt’s school is assisting me with this process. First, Julianna had to go to the National Bank to pay a $2.70 fee to allow us to go to the police station to file a report. Julianna and I then went to the police station with the receipt from the bank and relayed my tale of woe to the officer in charge. A young female officer got out a notebook and hand wrote the details of the loss in the book as the officer asked me questions (including whether I was married. That is always important on any document here and, in fact, Matt’s carné  initially was held up because someone had marked that he was not married). She switched between black and red ink; I never did figure out the rhyme or reason. At the same time, about 6 other male officers were in the office watching a soccer match. I signed the report and placed my fingerprint on it, another must in Peru as official documents always are signed and then your fingerprint added.

After an hour, I returned to pick up a copy of the official, typed report, signing and placing my fingerprint on the station’s original report. Actually, I found that part quite efficient; I don’t think you can get a police report in an hour in the US.

Police report

Police report

 

The school will send my copy to Maria Katia who will prepare the needed paperwork and secure an appointment for me in Lima with immigration. One of the big advantages to having Peruvian residency is that we get a huge discount to fly nationally. Unfortunately, because my card is lost and I can’t present it at the airport (even though my passport notes that I have residency status and I will have the police report) I can’t fly as a resident on this trip to Lima.  So instead of a $100 flight I will have a $300 flight, which actually is a bit of a bargain over the normal price for some reason. I am sure that there will be more endless waiting and long lines and several additional expenses, but I will be happy when my carné is back in hand!

So send your good vibes and prayers my way so that this process works as it is supposed to and that I have my replacement carné early next week!

Would You Let This Baby Pee in Your Ear?

Posted on by under Peru
Mariana

Mariana

Mistina, Matt and I were at our friend Maribel’s house for a lovely traditional Cajamarquino lunch of carne asada (slow cooked beef), rice and pureed potatoes when the subject of Mistina’s earache arose.

“There is the cure,” Maribel said, laughing as she pointed at her adorable, 6 month old niece Mariana, “baby urine.”

“What?” Matt and I sputtered. Mistina nodded. She had already heard this from multiple sources over the past few days.

“Baby urine. A Cajamarquino remedy. You put it in your ear and it cures your earache. Or breast milk. My sister [Mariana’s mom] will be here soon…” Maribel laughed at our shock, but the offer was sincere.

We obviously needed enlightenment. Maribel explained how a traditional home remedy for earaches is to either have a baby pee in your ear (“urine therapy”) or a nursing mother express breast milk in your ear. Maribel confirmed that her family had used these remedies with success but recognized that we would find this odd and questioned whether the remedy works because of a scientific reason or because of a placebo effect. She also raised the interesting question of whether Peruvian remedies would work on us foreigners.

We tried goading Mistina into giving it a shot, but she was having none of it. She did concede that if her ear still hurt in a week she would consider urine therapy. (Matt and I both agreed that if we had to choose one, we would choose the breast milk.) Mistina also said that she recalled reading about this urine therapy in a book about pioneer days. Apart from cleansing a wound or a snakebite, neither Matt nor I had ever heard of urine therapy. Maribel asked what our American home remedies were and apart from chicken soup for a cold, we couldn’t come up with any.

Maribel told us about another Peruvian remedy: the Limpia de Cuy, or Cleansing via Guinea Pig. For this treatment you take a black guinea pig and rub it all over the ill person’s body 3 times. Then you cut open the cuy (these poor guys never have a chance) and look at the organs to see what part is diseased. It is believed that the disease is transferred from the ill person to the cuy and manifests itself (so if you had a lung ailment, the cuy’s lungs would be bad). Maribel relayed how her father suffered from seizures for many years before he was completely cured after undergoing a Limpia de Cuy and some herbal treatments.

Maribel described other cures for various ailments that involved sprinkling salt in a cross shape in a pan, cooking it until it sizzled and then adding boiling water and sometimes an egg. These mixtures are then placed on the person’s forearms and lower legs although she conceded that it is hard to do it without burning the person.

In addition to these interesting remedies, Peru is the land of homeopathic medicine. Herbal remedies are common here, and a popular one is mate de coca, or a coca leaf tea, that is used to treat altitude sickness. Mate de coca is legal in Peru and many South American countries; however, despite the fact that it provides no narcotic effect whatsoever, it is illegal in the US and many other countries because cocaine is derived from the same plant. Chewing coca leaves is also commonly used as a stimulant for laborers and is popular with hikers trekking the Inca trail to Machu Picchu to combat the altitude and provide an energy boost.

Mate de Coca

Mate de Coca

During Carnival there were additional vendors in our town and this guy was set up on our square for a few days.

Bark, nuts and leaves
Natural remedies
Homeopathic wares

One night Matt, Mistina and I stopped by and chatted with him about his products. He is from the Amazon and was very nice about explaining the properties and uses of the different items. I bought the chuchuhuasha bark, which is supposed to be great for any joint and back pain, among many other uses. Peruvians prepare it by steeping it in alcohol for 10 days; mine has been steeping in rum for about a week now, so I haven’t tried it yet. According to various websites, it has some amazing properties and studies have confirmed some of these. https://www.indigo-herbs.co.uk/acatalog/Chuchuhuasi_Info.html. He also gave us some sacha inchi nuts, which I have now researched and understand are one of the latest super food crazes used to lower cholesterol (if it hits Whole Foods and Dr. Oz, it must be mainstream).

Steeping the bark
Chuchuhuasha Bark

So if these homeopathic remedies are supported by science, what about baby urine and breast milk for ear infections? My unscientific google search did not uncover any conclusive literature on the subject, but some people (including Americans) swear by it. Maggots and leeches are being used again in some US hospitals, so maybe these will be the next remedies to come into vogue.

Soundtrack of My Life (Thus Far)

Posted on by under Uncategorized

A current popular blog theme is the music that shaped the writers’ lives or is entwined with their memories. So I thought I would follow suit, but it’s hard to limit my list. Mind you, I am not saying these are the best songs ever; in fact, some make me cringe, but hearing them will transport me every time.

 Weela Wallia. Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem

My dad’s Irish clan loves their Irish songs and this one topped the list for me. An old woman “stuck a knife in the baby’s head; the more she stuck it, the more it bled,” wow, what an image. And then the woman gets hung for her crime; maybe this is why the legal profession appealed to me. Or not. I sang this song in kindergarten and Dad had to explain to the unamused teacher why. His response: he didn’t think anyone would understand me because I talked (and sang) so fast!

 The Butcher Boy. Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem

Yes, there is a theme here.  The special treat if Grandma Dwyer rode home with your family from the cottage was that she would treat everyone to frozen custard (ah, La Ducs) and we would sing Irish songs (between licking our cones). This song, about a girl who commits suicide after her boyfriend spurns her when she gets pregnant was another favorite. My brother Tommy and I used to serenade our German neighbors with this one when we were about 4 and 7, respectively. I think our mom approved because it was a cautionary tale of the dangers of premarital sex. I’m not sure what our poor neighbors thought.

8 Days a Week. The Beatles

Older sis Mick and her best friend Chris LOVED The Beatles and thus, so did I. But they mocked me endlessly when I asked them how a week could have 8 days. Ah, I still feel the shame, but it didn’t diminish my Beatlemania. And I suppose Mick and Chris’ torture made me tougher (despite the lingering grate phobia).

Be Not Afraid. Bob Dufford & On Eagle’s Wings. Michael Joncas

I hate these songs. All the upper level girls in my Catholic grade school had to sing at funerals while the boys got an extra recess. This was horrifically depressing because the only funerals we sang at were the ones for the extremely elderly, which usually had 5 people in attendance. It embarrasses me to think about how irreverent and disrespectful I was during these funerals, but I loathed them and the blatant sexism. In eighth grade I led a protest and refused to sing at funerals any longer (this included during summer vacation when we were expected to go sing if requested). My friend’s mom said I was committing a sin and at some point I got guilted into again singing for funerals. Mind you, this had nothing to do with the quality of my voice, but rather the need for a critical mass in the choir. As an adult I have sung these songs at countless funerals and while I still hate them, I do it out of love and respect for the deceased. I maintain that it was wrong to force young girls into this role, but I do love the mystical smell of incense.

Thunder Island. Jay Ferguson

Summer of 1978. Cottage. Lazy days on the raft, truth or dare in the attic at night.

Only the Good Die Young. Billy Joel

Same summer; same memories. As a Catholic girl, it gave me hope of being naughty some day even if I didn’t totally understand the lyrics!

Jesse’s Girl. Rick Springfield

My first concert without my parents. Tommy and his friend took my friend and me to Summerfest and we saw Rick Springfield at the Main Stage. Even better – when I couldn’t see anything, Tall Paul put me on his shoulders and I felt so cool.

New Year’s Day. U2

The first music video I remember seeing once we got cable. I LOVED my MTV and watched it for hours on end. Close second in my MTV world was The One Thing by INXS.

A Boy Called Sue. Johnny Cash

My Dad’s best friend Pat would always put this one on the juke box at Irene’s, the smallest bar in Hurley, or was it Ironwood, when we were on our annual ski trips to the UP.

I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues. Elton John

My family moved in the middle of my sophomore year of high school. I was miserable and secretly cried my eyes out to this one.

Relax. Frankie Goes to Hollywood.

Dad was driving me somewhere when this song came on and he asked me what the lyrics were. I lied and said I didn’t know. He probably did. I still blush when I hear this song.

I Can’t Fight This Feeling. REO Speedwagon

The plight of every younger sister is that all of your friends have crushes on your brother at some point. This was the anthem for one of my friends and her flirtation with Tommy. No, I won’t name names. But you both know and I still laugh when I hear this song.

Blister in the Sun. Violent Femmes

If you are of a certain age, and from Milwaukee, it is a given that you love the Femmes and saw them often. I had the eponymous album and played it as I got ready for my high school graduation.

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. The Beatles

This song is a two-fer on memory lane. The album was one of the few I took to college. It also was the song that kicked off the Live 8 concert in London in 2005. Matt and I were driving through the English countryside when the broadcast started and U2 with Sir Paul sang this song. Priceless.

 Respect. Aretha Franklin

My college roommate Amy and I would put this song on the jukebox in the bar we would hit after working our shift at the Dane County Coliseum. We would dance like maniacs and belt it out.

Come on Eileen. Dexy’s Midnight Runners

My middle name is Eileen. I don’t know any songs with Kerry.

 Baby Can I Hold You. Tracy Chapman

When I lived in Italy, some friends asked my roommate Jean and me to translate this song for them. It was good Italian practice. Bob Marley’s No Woman No Cry and John Lennon’s Imagine were other favorites at that time.

Varsity.

UW-Madison, Class of 1990. Go Badgers!

The Parting Glass. Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem

Mom defied the priest and we sang this song at Dad’s funeral. Good for any ending.

Angel. Robbie Williams

This treacly song was all the rage when my family toured Ireland with an entourage of friends. My musical friend Julie predicted she would have all of us singing it within a few days and she was right. We even had choreographed hand motions as our “performances” were on the long car rides.

Fly Me To The Moon. Frank Sinatra

Mom loved Frank and I came to share her love. Long before meeting Matt, I knew that if I ever married I wanted this to be the wedding song. Thankfully, Matt concurred.

 Watching the Wheels. John Lennon

I played this song on my way to and from work when I desperately wanted to quit a career that other people thought was great. “I just have to let it go.” And I did.

What are your song memories?

Computer Meltdown

Posted on by under Peru

The old Kerry was back. With a vengeance. After months of going with the South American flow of a relaxed pace and inefficiency, I was done.

I sprinted across the street, yelling at the Movistar service technician who was doing his best to ignore me while he dialed his phone.

“Excuse me, when are you coming to my house to fix my internet?” I demanded.

He waved a paper, nervously refusing to look at me. “I’m at this house. I’m not the tech for your house.”

“But you were at my house on Saturday. And you left. And I still don’t have internet!”

“Another tech…” he tried to turn his back to me but I stuck with him.

“Who? When?”

“I don’t know. But not me.”

“But it was you. You were at my house. And you didn’t fix anything and now no one has come for 3 days.”

“Ahh.  Matthews, right?” He was trying to placate me and I knew it.

“Yes. There.” I pointed to our house.

“Okay, I’ll tell them.” His eyes darted about, refusing to look at me. I interpreted that as a fear of being caught. I was convinced this guy had deleted our job request for the past 3 days because he didn’t know how to solve our internet problem or didn’t want to deal with it. Matt later said the guy was probably afraid that I was going to drag him across the street to our house. At 5’3”, I’m bigger than he and had rage on my side, so that might have been it.

I stalked back across the street while glaring at the guy on the corner who had watched this entire exchange. Slammed the doors to my house.  ARGGG. Why is it so hard to get things done here? Why can’t I speak better Spanish so I don’t sound like a 5 year old? Olga, our housekeeper, tiptoed around me. She had never seen me angry, much less livid, these past eight months. And I have never seen a Peruvian mad; they go into begging mode when they want something. Not this American. I wasn’t about to beg someone who was screwing me over. But I am no fool. I had tried the begging: I had sent Olga out to talk to the tech when I first saw him across the street because I thought the begging might work. It didn’t. Of course, my in-your-face aggression didn’t either.

I explained to Olga what happened and why I didn’t believe that he wasn’t suppose to be at our house.

“Well, he did have an order for the other house…” she ventured.

“Did you see it?” The lawyer in me was out in full force.

“No, but I said Matthews to him…”

“Hrmph.  But he was here on Saturday and left and no one has come since.”

“The same guy? Here? Oh.” She retreated.

I had a new plan: when he was done with the other job, I would waylay him again and demand that he call his tech office immediately to find out when someone was coming to my house. I looked out the window. Damn, his car was gone. He had snuck away.

The saga began when an electrical storm knocked out our phone, internet, and computer on Friday. The worst part was that about 30 seconds before it happened it occurred to me that I should shut down the computer. But I didn’t. There was a pop on the screen and then no phone, no internet, no computer. The storm was intense and lasted a couple of hours, so I didn’t really expect service to return quickly and I was ignoring the fact that the computer wouldn’t turn on. By the next morning, it was clear that we needed service, but a review of all the paperwork from our provider, Movistar, and its on-line site (via my cell phone, which thankfully has a data plan) revealed that the only way to call for service was from a Movistar phone. Ours didn’t work; that was part of the problem. So we walked to our friend’s house and her housekeeper called Movistar for us and explained the problem. A tech would come within 24 hours.

And he did come, later that afternoon. We explained the problem and showed him that the phone and modem both didn’t work. We also explained that the modem wouldn’t power up at all – clearly it was fried, not that we know that idiomatic expression in Spanish, but he seemed to understand. He checked a few things, confirmed nothing worked and then said he needed to check the lines but had to wait as a strong storm had kicked up. He waited, we waited, and then, next thing we knew, he was gone without a word and nothing was fixed. We hung around the rest of the day, optimistic that he would return. Wrong.

On Sunday Matt returned to our friend’s house and called Movistar while I hopefully waited at home. This time, Matt couldn’t get out of the automatic system because there was already a service code associated with our phone number and the recording said a tech would be out within 24 hours. So we waited around the house all day and no one came.

On Monday, Matt had a coworker call as the 24 hours was up to 48 hours and still no resolution or return visit. This time, we received a new service code and his coworker told him they had another 24 hours to send a tech. What? They already had 48 hours and no one had fixed the problem, but apparently that is the way it works here. So I again was homebound, waiting for the tech who never arrived. At some point our phone came back on and later there was an automated call from Movistar. I didn’t quite understand all of it, but thought I hit the right number that indicated we still had a problem as the internet was not going to work until we got a new modem.

On Tuesday, Matt had a coworker call another time as 24 hours had elapsed yet again. Same routine: new code, 24 hours. I was ballistic by this point. How can Movistar buy itself another 24 hours just by giving us a new code? I felt chained to the house as I was not going to miss the tech visit and had instructed Olga to be on high alert for anyone at the door. On Monday I ran to the door or window about every 2 minutes as I was fearful of missing the tech guy when he arrived. I was doing the same thing on Tuesday, which is how I saw the tech across the street and accosted him. After that incident and still no tech, I insisted that Matt go to Movistar after work and explain in person what was happening and what we needed. He did and was assured someone would come the next day (today) and that the tech would call first. Matt also asked whether the tech would come with a modem in his car and the woman laughed and said yes.

The first thing I did today was to instruct Olga that her most important job of the day was to answer the phone (I was worried that it would be a recording and I don’t understand those well) so that we didn’t miss the tech’s visit. Yep, she missed the call. I was furious and, while I didn’t yell at her, I did go yell in the other room. After I calmed down, I asked her to call Movistar (as our phone now worked we could call from home) and find out if a tech was coming.  After about 20 minutes she came and told me that Movistar had no record of any problem with our line, but that she had a code and a tech would come in 24 hours. WTF??? By this time, I was ranting in Spanish the best I could (though I really need to learn to say WTF) and asked Olga how that made any sense when the tech was here, on Saturday, when we have called every day for the past 4 days and when Matt actually went to Movistar yesterday. She seemed puzzled by these questions and seemed to find it perfectly reasonable that we would wait another 24 hours now that we had a code.  What?? I had had enough of this senseless conversation when there was a knock at the door.

Yes, it was the same tech- from Saturday, from yesterday- at the door. I went to the computer room when he arrived and politely explained, though I really wanted to wring his neck, that the modem didn’t work and we didn’t have internet. He looked at it and conceded that was the case, but said he didn’t have a modem because he was there to service our …phone. What??? I told him that he knew the internet and modem didn’t work since he came on Saturday (I thought it prudent to ignore our conversation of the prior afternoon). He responded that he was here for the service call from 11 am yesterday that said there was a problem with the phone so that is what he came to fix. (*@!^$&(^$  But, he assured me, he would come back in a half hour with a modem because he knew we had been waiting for it. It is now 3 1/2 hours. I am still waiting.

This whole exchange proves that you can take the girl out of America, but you can’t take America out of the girl. I am still trying to figure out what part of this bothers me the most: the lack of internet, which I depend on for my amusement while I am home alone all day; my loss of independence as I feel chained to the house (despite sneaking out to use my friend’s internet at the moment); or the sheer inefficiency, which my Type A personality can pretend to handle most of the time but really can’t.

Update: The (same) tech showed up, a mere 6 1/2 hours late. But he had a modem and we are connected again. Yippee! Next step: finding out if our iMac can be salvaged. Fingers crossed…

Happy St. Paddy’s Day – Better Late Than Never!

Posted on by under Celebrations, Peru

Yesterday I was in Lima obtaining my Peruvian residency card. It was a typical bureaucratic experience with two items of note: the Peruvians determined that I am a green-eyed blond (and here I thought I was a brown-eyed brunette for the past 45 years) and my residency stamp is on the visa page with a JFK quote, which seemed fitting for St. Patrick’s Day. I did not have the luck o’ the Irish when our plane from Lima arrived over Cajamarca, circled a few times, and then flew back to Lima as the pilot determined the weather didn’t permit him to land. Or maybe not landing was the lucky part! In any event, for that reason this post is a day late.

Although the month of Carnival festivities had worn us out, we decided to throw a St. Patrick’s Day party last Saturday for our expat and Peruvian friends. The Peruvians were quite interested to know what a St. Paddy’s Day party entailed, and we were at a bit of a loss – uh, drinking and wearing green? But we stepped it up and made corned beef (from scratch, no handy pre-brined meat here), potato salad (okay, not entirely Irish, but the potatoes count), oatmeal cookies,  and Irish cream brownies (courtesy of our friend Sarah), greeted everyone at the door with a shot of Baileys or Jameson and had the Irish tunes playing. Matt boss, Peter, contributed some Pogues and other contemporary Celtic tunes that complemented our Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem collection quite nicely.

Corned Beef
Decorations
Tin Whistle
Slainte!
Cheers!
Upia Kushun (cheers in Quechuan)

It was pretty cool to have 5 countries represented : USA, Canada, Peru, Colombia and Mexico and everyone enjoying a typical American St. Patrick’s Day party. But the Peruvians like to sing and dance.  While I was tempted to teach them all Weela, Wallia, I was concerned that this group of educators might not see the justice in the song but instead wonder why I was singing a song about killing a baby. (My kindergarden teacher wondered the same thing and called my parents for an explanation.  True story.) We put on some YouTube videos teaching Irish dance, but as all I know about Irish dance is that you have to keep your arms down and shoulders straight, that was short lived.  We gave the Electric Slide and Boot Scootin’ Boogie a shot (thank you, Mistina and Sarah), but in the end, Latin music prevailed. One of the teachers noted, “you Americans dance with your legs, not your hips” and I think she understood why learning to salsa is not natural for us! The party went until the wee hours and a good time was had by all.

St. Patrick’s Party
Latin Dance Prevailed
Bellying Up to the Bar
Attempting Irish Dance
Camaraderie
Hamming it Up
Sweet Treats
Clean Up

Clean Up

Goodbye to Carnival – The Davy College Unsha

Posted on by under Cajamarca, Celebrations

The last party of Carnival is the Unsha, where a tree is cut down, moved somewhere else and “planted” in the ground, street, wherever, and then decorated with presents, danced around and chopped down at which time there is a mad dash for the presents. We asked several Peruvians the origin or symbolism of Unsha and were told it was just a Cajamarca Carnival tradition. So whatever the initial meaning was, it is apparently lost! Different neighborhoods, or barrios, have their Unsha celebrations, as did Matt’s school. The Davy Unsha operates as both the traditional Carnival celebration as well as a staff party and newbie hazing. We were warned, so we knew to have an extra change of clothes although I managed to decline the hazing ceremony, so avoided the eggs on my head and was just sprayed with water and dusted with baby powder.

Unsha Fun
Unsha water fight
Dancing around the tree as the ax falls
Harder than it looks
Post-hazing
The Entertainment
Unsha Dinner
Unsha Tree

Matt did a fantastic job with the pictures and a video on his blog, so I am now going to cheat and direct you there. http://mattgeiger.blogspot.com/

Be sure to watch the (short) video – it is well worth it and you get to see eggs cracked on Matt’s head!   http://mattgeiger.blogspot.com/2014/03/unsha-2014-video.html