Sorry for such a long dry spell between post, but sometimes life gets all in the way. Anyway, sorry.

We found out on fairly short notice – at breakfast – that the trek in the Andes Mnts. to visit the Quechua people would be starting a day early – just after lunch that same day – for the the guys in the group. By this point of the trip we were all experienced at ” being flexible”, so it wasn’t too big of a deal. Plus, we were all excited about the trek and didn’t mind getting it started early.

Ethan, Conley, Matt, and I loaded into the compact van/taxi with three of our guides (Audey, Yépo, and Poosh-pee), the driver, and all of the gear. There was gear strapped to the top of the compact van/taxi, and every square inch inside the van was occupied by either a person or some type of gear. My butt, which was sitting in a seat about half it’s size, was not amused when it learned that this was going to be a 2 hr. trip. But even this packed van/taxi wasn’t a surprise thanks to a previous taxi ride in Lima. I just wasn’t sure how we were going to fit the guitar player (and his guitar) who was “up the road” waiting to be picked up.

Somehow we were able to squeeze the guitar player, Andres, into the compact van/taxi and tie his guitar to the top with some twine that was picked up from the road’s shoulder while we were stopped to pick up Andres. Once we had turned off the main road onto the smaller, bumpier dirt road heading “up” into the mountains, Poosh-pee would lean out the window with a mega-phone and announce to the valleys below about the “show” that was going to be performed. Of course I expected this type of resourcefulness from them. I had already visited plywood homes without running water where they had to make due with very simple means. There’s a genius in simplicity sometimes.

We finally arrived at our destination and Audey sent the 4 gringos (us white people) out to announce the night’s entertainment. You see, gringos are really the major attraction. There’s not too many that make their way up into the Quechua’s high farm country. The villagers were just beginning to return from their day working the fields and we passed many along the path as they herded livestock to be put up for the night. Matt was the only one who spoke Spanish, so he’d invite everyone to the show while the rest of us stood there nodding with big cheesy grins stretched across our faces. Some where a little stand-offish and nervous, but, like I said, it was very rare, if ever, for a gringo to be in the village. We were “strangers” and understood the nervousness.

We found several homes empty, still waiting for the occupants to return from their day’s labor, but we came across one with several small children and a couple of older girls without any adults present. We were making silly faces at the kids through the “door” while Matt was telling them about the puppet show and movie scheduled for later that night when, suddenly, we see sheep scatter and “mom” appear sprinting up the path to the home. She passes us with a nervous but suspicious glance as she goes towards the children. Matt explains to her what’s going on, and I can see her tension begin to ease. As we moved along, I was thinking that I would have had the exact same reaction if I returned home to find some stranger standing at my door chatting it up with my kids.

A day or two into our trek, Audey mentions to us some of the Quechua’s beliefs and superstitions. I only remember one. Turns out that the Quechua used to believe that gringos are cannibals. They’ve moved passed that a little, but there’s still a deep seated nervousness about gringos. When Quechua kids misbehave, they’re still told that if they’re not good the gringos will get them in the night.

Slowly, the nervous, stand-offish demeanor that we experience from so many became a little clearer. It was much more than a simple stranger passing through. And then I remembered that mom sprinting up the path with sheep scattering in every direction. I felt so sorry for her. She had come home to find not one but FOUR living breathing “boogie men” standing at her door trying to coax her kids out to play! She must have been horrified!! That poor woman. Her reaction seems quite reserved in hindsight with this new perspective.

I never crossed my mind that they would fear me as anything more than a stranger. I’m just a goofy guy who can’t even remember to wear sunscreen. I learned many lessons from this little incident, but I’ll save those for another day.