Let's start with Elicia. It was so wonderful having her here. While she wasn't living with us, she was staying just around the corner and popped in every day for visits, meals and frivolity. I've known her for 21 years (with a small break somewhere in our mid-twenties), which pretty much makes her family (without all the drama and stress that I usually feel with my actual family -- yes, this is something I'm trying to work on, too).
Leesh took Spanish classes for a couple of hours during the day at Maximo, my TEFL-training school, and then would make her way back to our house for lunching/chatting/interneting (our wifi worked better than at her house) and would usually stay until naptime (back at her place) and then return for dinner. She fit right in with all of us in the house and when her goodbye dinner rolled around, everyone tried to convince her to stay. We hope she returns soon...
A few weeks back, Humberto took me to Combapata, the neighboring town to Sicuani (his hometown) for a rather large virgin festival. We stayed in Sicuani, visited his family and some hot springs and then on day 2 took one of those cramped combi-like buses (basically a slightly larger minivan with triple the amount of people it should legitimately hold) to Combapata.
Sicuani is a small town with a nice old church and a river. There's not much else to do or see there, and so Humberto's mother suggested we go to the hot springs, about 1/2 away. And here lies one of the problems about living in Peru. You never know what to expect from minute to minute, so when you go on a trip you never know what to pack. Humberto still has some clothes at his parents' house so naturally he had a bathing suit. I, on the other hand, did not. So off we went into small-town Sicuani on the hunt for a bathing suit for me.
The first shop we entered had some very frilly, rather skimpy bikinis available, but nothing else. I politely declined Humberto's offer to buy me one and suggested we search a little further. About 20 minutes into our expedition, we finally found a shop selling slightly more modest swimming attire and I happily let him cough up the 18 soles for my low-cut (remember, I am in South America), shiny purple one-piece suit.
On to the hot springs! Hot springs are all over this part of Peru, and most of them are just used by the locals. Sure, tourists flock to Aguas Calientes, the city below Machu Picchu, to take in the "curative waters" before hopping on their tour bus to visit the sacred site, but the majority of travelers don't really step off the beaten path unless they're with someone in the know. And I've got me one of those someones.
This group of hot springs is about 1/2-hour taxi ride from Sicuani and you just squeeze into a car with a bunch of people heading in that direction, give the driver a few soles and you're on your way. Entrance to the springs is about 5 soles per person and you can stay all day. We opted for a quieter section of the springs (there were a surprisingly large number of noisy children there for a weekday) and after a lengthy soak, we shared a lunch of chicken and rice (and choclo con queso for me), and walked around the site for a while. The scenery was breathtaking and everywhere we walked there were little hills of bubbling water spurting up along our path.
My someone in the know
Lunch
Noisy children in the springs
And now, the festival. Humberto's family is large and many of them hold prominent positions in local government (and the rest of them are famous -- in Peru -- musicians). A couple of his cousins (or uncles) were running the festival and each time we ran into them throughout the day they seemed just a tad bit drunker than they were the last time we saw them (I think they're required by some Peruvian law to accept every drink they're offered on days like this).
The festival was centered around the small main square, and it mostly consisted of a parade with various groups from all over Peru in beautiful costumes doing various dances, food stalls selling fried meats and potatoes, foosball tables and cotton candy vendors. After the parade carrying the virgin up to the church ended, most people made their way to the local school where lunch was served. Lunch took 3 hours. Very long hours. Chicha (fermented corn beer -- a local specialty) was free flowing, as was the Cusquena, which helped pass the time for most. I, however, don't drink, so this 3-hour lunch at a table with 8 of Humberto's friends speaking rapid-fire Spanish was not particularly the highlight of my day. Still enjoyable, but there were definitely moments I wished I could consume a few beers without getting sick (stupid allergy to alcohol).
Some photos of the festival...
The festival culminated with a bullfight down at the local bull ring. Yes, Combapata, this tiny little town, has a bull ring. Humberto convinced me to walk down to the fight with the rest of the crowd, telling me that we could leave at any time. I took one look at the bulls being taunted and walked back to the main square. His family tried to get me to stay by reassuring me that they weren't going to kill the bulls (or so they thought), but knowing the way Peruvians treat their animals, I wasn't convinced. We skipped the bullfight.
Our 2-hour bus ride back to Cusco later that night was cramped but pleasant. There were power outages throughout most of the trip, so all of the little towns we passed were eerily quiet and dark. Fortunately, Cusco was not affected so we made it back in time for a quick dinner before he headed off to work the night shift at his hotel job.
These festivals really are fun. There's an energy in the town that puts everyone in high spirits (insert drunk joke here) and brings together the town in a way you don't see often in the U.S. (at least not in the big cities). And when your friend's family is in charge of the party, the rest of the revelers forget you're the gringa guest and just hands you the bowl of chicha and waits for you take a swig.
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