Papas Fritas

Today we bought fries from a stand at the town festival. It probably isn't anything like you're imagining it, the stand or the fries. But we were quite pleased.

We went to a corn planting competition out at one of the old military bases, so odd, but still. We hung out with our favorite 10 and unders from Hualla, all the love from the little girls and the hand holding and hair touching makes the solitude of being abroad that much easier. 

Today was a whirlwind that included catholic mass and a procession to the local cemetery. At one point during the procession an old woman approached me from behind pinching my nose, she then walked around to the other side of me to pinch it yet again, longer and harder, and then spread her hand wide and felt down my entire face ending on my arm nearest her. It sounds ridiculous but things like that truly make me feel honored, honored to be welcomed especially in the context of a place that has every right to fear foreigners. Sure it was a little weird, for me, but for her she was showcasing the unique and rare honor she felt in having us foreigners, people of a different skin,  attend a ceremony with them in honor of some of their most difficult and painful times. I recognize that for her she was showing me a welcome and a gratitude, kindness, and love. It doesn't matter what it felt like for me as an American, or a foreigner or anything else that I am, it means so much to take a step back from my own social and cultural expectations and appreciate all that Hualla is, and all that its' people are, for what they are, exactly as they are.

Times change and cultures change, and the fear that all of this might not exist at all in five or ten years is terrifying. The Internet cafes will continue to strengthen their internet connection, and expand for more and more computers. Less and less children will learn and proudly speak Quechua, the appeal of living in a small town will be lost to that of living in a big city and only those who financially have no choice will be left behind. Processed and packaged foods will find their way in greater variety to the corner shops. Hualla will change. So when a woman who speaks only Quechua, adorned in full traditional Peruvian style, holds your hand or kisses your cheek, or pinches your nose, you must, you must you must you must, just stop to breathe in the air and be grateful, grateful to be alive in a time and place when this culture remains, to be surrounded in the beauty and the strength and perseverance of a people. 

Hualla has taught me far more than I think I've even begun to fully understand. I'm seven days in without internet and it's odd how life goes on. The first few days were hard, you want to pick up your phone and be in touch, to casually scroll and constantly gain new information. But then suddenly you stop. Like when I lost my phone the other day... it'd probably been missing from my possession about 2 hours before I noticed, and about another 2 before I found it. It's humbling when you're talking about the population of Iceland and you just guess or think well we know it's small, and we don't get to be know it alls with all the answers all the time. You swallow a pride that was fake, not even yours to being with, and you embrace not knowing, and replace it with wondering. Some parts of me feel really free, like I've been really present. Others feel frustrated mostly at not being able to talk to my family, specifically my sister as she's in Nepal. That's definitely been the hardest part.

I've read a lot and really enjoyed that, I've talked with people and had really great conversations along with some belly aching laughs. I walk outside to find out the weather, and check my watch for the time far more often. 

I think I've been dreaming more too, not like at night, like during the day, rather than seeing photos and stories and comparing myself to everyone else, somehow I've just let my mind wander to creative things I've done or want to do, dream destinations and what I imagine they must be like.  

Hualla has been wonderful, a step back in time, and yet an oh so present experience. I hope I don't forget this little place. It has been so hard to record it all and express it all without family to tell about it back home. I've been so set to live in the moment; I hope I won't forget it all. Tomorrow on to Sacsamarca, even higher in altitude, about half the population size of Hualla, and even colder weather, zero hot water, and zero internet. Here goes nothing.

26/06/17