Peru adventure in Amaru

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I speak no Quechuan -- which seemed as good a reason as any to adventure to Amaru and learn some.  I was to learn much more than kinsa (three) and mikhuy (eat) though.

LESSONS FROM MY AMARU ADVENTURE
That adventure to Amaru opened my eyes to a richly connected village life where 3 generations of family shared a single abode and prepared meals over an open hearth...
where fathers cooked and guided on Incan Trail adventures while their sons went to school to learn math...
and where simple self-sufficiency blotted out that crazed modern world, 15,000' below.

OUR PERU ADVENTURE BEGINS...
Our adventure began in Cusco where a guide drove us from our posh room at the Orient Express Monastery, 45 minutes out into the Sacred Valley, to the village of Pisac.

We stopped on the street to buy some hostess gifts -- some mashua, purple corn, and an armful of cactus fruits -- and also a sack of tamales which we couldn't resist out of a bucket on the corner.
Munching on tamales, we juggled our packs and gifts over to a waiting purple sedan, our ride to adventure in Amaru.

Why, I stood there wondering,  are the perfectly paved lanes of Dallas packed with SUVs, while the pocked and cracked rural roads of this mountain community are serviced only by lowslung hatchbacks with 1970's suspension systems?

ADVENTURE COMRADES
We got in.
So did 2 local workers and a young Mom with a papoosed infant -- plus her entire month's supply of groceries, bundled in a tweedy red Andean blanket.  Oh -- did I mention the 4-layer crate of eggs?

The 5 1/2 of us squeezed our way into the purple sedan alongside the driver, and our overloaded group headed out of Pisac as the first raindrops fell.

THE DRIVE WAS AN ADVENTURE BY ITSELF...
The road quickly turned upward, and began serpentining along the crooks of the hillside.  The asphalt turned to red gravel, then to dirt.  Our driver gunned the gas at super steep patches, and we skidded ahead.

At sharp corners, the cars outside wheels would seem to grab the loose gravel edge and I saw my first cross-n-flower memorial at the dropoff.

The heat of our bodies in the car created a fog against the rainy windshield, but the young Mom thought she could help.  She reached over the infant and into her bundle to produce a greasy tissue.  Wiping in bigger and bigger circles, she created a giant smear that now obscured the road entirely -- and that's when I got officially worried.

The driver handily rubbed his sleeve to clear a small scope the size of a jumbo Ms. Fields cookie, and we were soon off again.  My ears started popping.

At one point, we bottomed out - the rain runoff had rutted our road and we all had to pile out while the men, with a 1-2-3, hoisted the little sedan out of the ditch.

As we rounded hairpins, I tried to look out and down, but all I could see was air!  I sort of just stopped worrying, at that point.

We continued to fight our way up the mountainside until just after dusk, when we pulled into Amaru.

CULTURAL ADVENTURE IN AMARU
A cluster of orange lights showed the basic outline of the village.  We opened the wooden gate to "our" home and stepped carefully around the mud, to enter the low front door.
There was a frenzy of smiles, Quechuan welcomes, English thank-yous.   Then we were seated at a low beach, and while the 2 chilren made us hot tea, our eyes adjusted to the dark interior.
We spied guinea pigs running back and forth.  Were they pets or dinner?   Yes.


The evening was busy.  "Grandma" stirred the big black supper pot over the fire and tried to keep 3-year-old Lourdas off my lap.  The Mom unpacked special plates apparently saved just for us (that felt a little awkward), and Nicodemus was in charge of our entertainment, displaying his schoolbooks and teaching us Quechuan words for fire and table.

Before bed, we used a hole in the ground (aka toilet) and felt only gratitude for its privacy and shelter so we could pee out of the rain.
Then we turned into our own room where they covered us with so many Andean woolens that I was positively nailed to the bed.

OVERNIGHT ADVENTURE
I couldn't sleep at first and went to stand at the door, mesmerized by the rain dripping silently in the dark.  I tried to picture my spot on the globe -- that pulsing GPS button showing me in the forgotten wooded ravine, deep within the Andean mountain chain, in Peru.  I finally crawled back under the blankets, and fell asleep to the faint sounds of music floating from a distant party in Amaru.

MEALS ON A HOMESTAY ADVENTURE?
The next morning we were greeted with hot ground-lima-bean tea (looks a lot like a latte) and some corn cakes fried up freshly by the Dad who had returned overnight from the Trail.
We spent the morning admiring the family's small goat herd and purchasing a scarf handwoven by the Mom.
Then we bid goodbye and followed our host mom down the mountain to the weekly market in Pisac. She scampered over the rocks in her flimsy sandals. We struggle behind in our high-tech hiking boots.

Today, that scarf hangs over the doorway to my music room in my NJ home, a powerful touchstone to my Peru adventure with a family who took me in, if only for 1 night.

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