The Jury Is Out...

I love Cusco.

It is such a joy to be here. Both Jorge and I agree, this place is inspiring in a way that Lima didn't accomplish, not even in the cool boho neighborhood. Maybe it's the colonial-fortress feel of the historic center; maybe it's the adrenaline from the tourism industry; maybe it's the ancient whispers that waft through the Sacred Valley.

At any rate, it feels really, really good to be here. We love it. And the next 5 or so months will be spent very happily here in Cusco.

One of my favorite parts about where we live -- the San Blas neighborhood -- is that everything is literally a sneeze away. As I mentioned before, within a three block radius I can find a vegan restaurant, my laundromat, an Ashtanga-Anusara blend studio, a Catholic diocese (actually that's our neighbor, haaay!), and the local market.

I've had a great time breaking up my work day (which consists of lots of sitting and computer time) with short trips to the market or nearby locales. If I'm feeling really inspired, I can walk the four block or so to Starbucks. I might save that for days when I feel like I'm missing the USA. Any Starbucks on the face of the planet is the same, I'm convinced, and damn, what a trip to middle America! Sometimes, it's grating. Other times, it's an odd refresher that I need. I just try not to get swept away with the consumer urges to purchase every stylistic coffee cup available.

We went to the central market on Sunday, a pretty lovely tradition for parts such as these, and I found a woman sitting with her wares on display. It looked like she was selling every manner of witchcraft and potion supplies. What do you guys think? Perfect stuff to throw into my cauldron sometime! Or, you know, make a great tea.

Quirks of Cusco

I haven't been in Cusco long, but already some interesting quirks are making themselves known. Life in a new place always comes with associated learning curves and surprises (like in this post from November 2012 about settling into Puerto Varas, Chile; and this one about the inverted seasons; and this one and this one about acclimating to Valparaiso), so it should come as no surprise that Cusco has it's own learning curve.

The first thing that stood out about Cusco really jolted me. No really, it did. Because I electrocuted myself. IN THE SHOWER.

How is this possible, one might ask? I certainly didn't get into the bathtub with a lightning bolt, nor do I consider myself a risk taker with electrical currents. It happened during my celebratory first shower on our first day (first HOUR) in Cusco. After that 22 hour bus ride, I was more than ready for a hopefully hot shower.

Once inside the thankfully warm shower stream, I looked up at the shower head and noticed there was a sort of lever that looked like it could control the water stream. It was coming out pretty weak, so I thought, hey, we need industrial grade water stream if possible, folks.

I tried moving the lever but it was sort of loose. So I grabbed the shower head, to steady it against my water-stream-adjustment.

ZAP. Electrocuted.

Turns out, Cusco (at least the shower heads I've seen so far -- certainly every apartment we visited during the house hunt had them) uses electric shower heads. Instead of an external water heater system (in Lima and Valparaiso, it was gas), the shower head itself heats the water as it comes out.

This is our actual shower head! Does anybody know

what the dangling hose is for? I sure don't!

Awesome. Does anybody else feel like this is an extremely bad idea? I mean, I know the gas system has its own risks and dangers. Probably water heaters too. But for F's sake -- this seems like we're tempting fate just a little too much here.

But hey. If all of Cusco does it, it must be fine, right? Probably nobody has died. Probably.

There's just one simple rule in bathing in Cusco, from here on out.

DON'T FREAKING TOUCH THE SHOWER HEAD WHEN ITS ON. FOR GOD'S SAKE.

The next quirk became readily apparent the very first night we moved into our apartment. Late that night, we noticed that a very unsavory smell wafting from the bathroom. We figured it was perhaps a problem with the toilet, and resolved to inform our landlord about it.

Then we noticed that when you turned the faucets on, nothing happened.

And then we noticed this again the next morning. And then the next afternoon. And again during the next night.

In fact, all of Saturday, we had water for about 4 hours of our waking day. (We did hear the water pipes shudder to life soon after we went to bed, around 2 AM. "WATER'S BACK. Just in time to not use it!")

This was disconcerting. We asked the landlady why this was -- she said it was normal, that the water was cut most every day, but only for a few hours at a time and then it came back. It was for water saving practices, since there's either a shortage or global warming or all the tourists. We didn't get a clear answer.

Every visitor to Cusco has their own water story, I imagine.

Note: This is actually a BAND named Cusco, and the image is from their 

album of instrumental music. But it was too perfect not to use.

Indeed, the water does disappear everyday. It tends to be available in the morning, goes away around noon, and then comes back again (maybe) in the late afternoon, and then sometimes at night. We're still gathering data to form a chart about WHEN we can expect the water to be there. This can become a problem when one has to, you know, bathe for work. Or wash the dishes in order to eat something.

Upon move-in, we noticed lots of containers of water laying around. Not the drinkable water you buy at the stores, but just plastic jugs full of tap water. It confounded us, to say the least, but now we get it -- helpful tactics for when the water disappears and you need to flush a  toilet or wash a dish.

And this explains the unsavory smell as well. We've noticed it again, and it happens when the water's been turned off for several hours. Without the running water, shit starts to get funky.

Acclimating to the rhythm of Cusco is an ongoing adventure. More time will tell what further surprises await us! And don't worry, I'll blog all about it.

Editor's Note: I found an excellent blog recently written by a woman living a lifestyle similar to mine. She just moved away from Cusco after being here 5 months, and she blogged about surprises in Cusco  as well, which had me nodding in agreement after less than a week here.

House Hunting in Cusco

On Wednesday, we arrived to Cusco with over 100 lbs of STUFF on our collective backs. Jorge's new employer set us up with a little hotel room while we hunted houses, and we set to scouring the hills of Cusco. Slowly and carefully, of course, because the altitude does a number on us.

Our experience in Potosi, Bolivia showed us quite painfully that we are two people that are sensitive to altitude sickness, and over-doing it in any manner makes you feel like you have either the flu or a raunchy hangover. Or both.

It's anyone's guess who will suffer from altitude sickness. Physical fitness doesn't have much to do with it -- it either hits you or it doesn't. Luckily, it goes away in a couple days. Or, it doesn't, and then you have to descend the mountain immediately. That's probably only like, when you're on the tippy top of Mount Everest, though.

By Saturday, we had scored a new apartment in the heart of historic Cusco. We have apartment-hunting and house-acquiring down to a science by now. All told, we saw 5 different places. I took some pictures to share with you, so you could get an idea of what the regular accommodations are like for ex-pats and wanderers in general.

After two full days of visits and phone calls and trekking around Cusco, it felt like an episode of House Hunters International. Without the one million dollar budget, that is. Or the camera crew or the pending mortgage.

OPTION ONE: This was higher up into the hills than we liked, right on the fringe of what I would consider the 'safe' part. The outer part was messy and in the throes of construction, but once inside the apartment, it was completely restored and lovely.

Extremely narrow kitchen. I can feel the 

dinnertime cooking frustration already.

However, the only windows overlooked a shared central patio, which was full of old Peruvian women hanging laundry, and every manner of junk thrown around.

Lovely decoration, but the location and vicinity didn't convince us.

Option Two was an actual house in the historic center of Cusco. However, it was woefully dreary and closed in. An advertised "shared patio" (which led to salacious fantasies of having an asado on Sunday) turned out to be an enclosed arboretum of sorts, lit by a very strange green glass roof, which lent a very odd ethereal tinge to everything. We passed.

Option Three was on the upper fringe of Cusco again but closer to the safer part. The walk to get there, though, reminded me of Valparaiso in the bad way. Add in altitude sickness and Jorge and I had a heart-pounding, chest-wheezing helluva time getting there.

Smallish bedroom.

The kitchen.

The landlord was lovely and the apartment came with the use of the rooftop terrace. That had us racing to see what was up there, and the view was honestly spectacular. 

The rooftop terrace view!

However, the entire place smelled like gerbils, and the place itself just didn't convince us. I couldn't imagine living in gerbil smell for six months, not even with that view as a bonus.

Our fourth option was an extremely overpriced hotel room. It wasn't advertised as such, but it was literally just a hotel suite that I suppose somebody had bought and was operating as an independent condominium of sorts. It had the dreaded interior windows I've come to loathe, two very tiny bedrooms, and a cramped living room/kitchen area. It didn't even have the room to lay down my yoga mat. So we moved on.

Option Five ended up being the winner. And what a winner it is! It was actually the second place we visited of the five, early on Friday morning, and by 5pm that night we made our decision and trucked our bags over the same day.

The lovely kitchen!

Though not seen here, the place has three skylights: one in the living room

here, one in our bedroom, and one in the bathroom. It's always sunny and bright! 

Except for at night, of course.

The location is perfect -- just steps away from my yoga studio, all manner of restaurants and shops surround the place, a laundromat is across the street, and I just noticed today that a vegan restaurant sits conveniently right next door. Awesome. 

The door to our new place! Inside, there's a terrace and multiple little apartments. 

And we even have a view from outside our front door! 

Can't complain.

Our Peruvian House Hunters: Cusco edition went as smoothly as one could hope for, and we are having a lovely time settling into the new digs. My first task: buy a desk. And a blender. And then life will be quite grand.

Disfrumingo in Barranco!

Scenes from a recent Sunday around Barranco...our first real breath of Peruvian summer here in Lima!

Lima Living and Lima Leaving

Jorge and I arrived in Lima on July 15th, 2014. The idea was to 'give it a whirl' -- find a trendy neighborhood (Barranco), establish ourselves in a new home (the Temporary Shoebox), Jorge finds a job at a salon (or five), and Shannon finishes a novel (done).

Four months later, we're still in Lima. We've given it the general consensus whirl (which, in backpacker world, is roughly 3 months of living in a place) and the verdict is in: TIME TO MOVE ON.

Don't get me wrong: Lima is a really cool city. Barranco is one of my favorite big city neighborhoods in perhaps all of Latin America. There are trendy boutiques, there are jaw-droppingly gorgeous gardens, there is NATURE, there is a sparkling coastline, there are varied and exciting restaurant options. Who wouldn't want to live here??

View from walking around Barranco.

A sunset we caught on Sunday. Spring means less cloudy days,

which means we can finally see actual sunsets!

Well, we don't. Lima is just too damn big. Jorge has it worse than I do -- he has to commute almost two hours each day to reach his job that is just in the next neighborhood over (Miraflores). Let me repeat that -- almost two hours each day to reach a "really close job". Jorge has some particular horror stories of having to go to any other part of Lima for work courses or other tasks, and it taking up to two hours one way sometimes to get to a place.

Forget about getting anywhere quickly. Forget 'just wandering over to a friend's house' in Lima -- if they live anywhere other than your same neighborhood, you're looking at a minimum 45 minute taxi ride.

Rush Hour traffic in Lima. 

[photo credit: www.worldbank.org]

Maybe for some people this is normal, or just an expected part of the landscape. But for us, it's taxing. It's time-consuming. It's draining.

Lima, we've had some good times here, and we've enjoyed our time in the tiny shoebox. But overall, Jorge and I are very ready to move on. We're ready for more community-based living, like we had in Valparaiso. We're ready for a house that isn't pure white walls, cement floors and sputtering hose sinks; I'm particularly ready for an oven again. There are a number of CASSEROLES I'd like to make. I'm ready for some soil, a view, less traffic-clogged and chaotic street experiences.

The perfect city is more than just having access to things you like. I thought Barranco would be perfect because it seemed the ideal blend of big city and unique neighborhood. But just as important for me, I've learned, is the ease of moving about, accessibility of community, and whether or not it takes a Bachelor's degree to understand the goddamn bus system.

So here's the news: We're moving to Cuzco in a week!! I'm very excited for this next chapter of Life in Peru, and I think the Sacred Valley will have plenty of surprises and experiences for us when we arrive in November.

Chau, Lima, and thanks for all the ceviche! Onward to Cuzco!

Another Jaunt to the USA

Folks! I apologize for the lengthy and unexplained disappearance. While there were no mysterious fogs that consumed me, nor an unintentional overdose on ceviche, there WAS another trip to the United States of America.

And boy, was that joyous and action-packed!

It started with a harrowing all-the-worst-things American Airlines flight (two delays, flight switching, late boarding, engine failure, flight cancellation, hundreds of angry passengers and no way out of Lima, an inexplicably *closed* Lima airport???, passport stamp cancellations, long lines, sleepless night, to name just a few) that somehow managed to deliver me not to Baltimore as I originally scheduled but to D.C.-Reagan. I made it to my family by the hair on my neck, and we attended my cousin's wedding as planned. A great time was had by all.

After a few lovely days in D.C. visiting family and the headquarters of my day job for the first time EVER, I flew back to Ohio, which began a whirlwind explosion of friends, family, and fall! 

There were dinner parties, shopping sprees, cleaning sprees, art nights, family visits...

...and road trips...

excellent time with soul mate friends...

good quality OHIO moments...

reunion of best friends...

this dog...

and best of all, a surprise 60th Birthday Party for my beloved father!! And he didn't even suspect it! 

The time was, as always, a desperately fun and fast-moving, delightful whirlwind. By the time I felt settled in the USA once more, it was time to leave. The only thing that made my departure easier to bear was that a certain Argentinian was waiting (VERY patiently, I might add!) for me in Lima.

Experiencing fall in the USA again was, as suspected, almost too much for my fair Midwestern heart to bear. When I arrived to Baltimore in early September it was basically high summer still, though within a week or so it firmly switched to fall. I was able to drink apple cider, sometimes spiked and sometimes not, touch pumpkins, crunch leaves, and witness gorgeous tree transitions. The crisp fall airs at night, too, were appreciated.

And as though Ohio was making sure I left the country completely satisfied...the day of my departure, it felt exactly like spring.

Thank you, friends, family and homeland, for yet another delightful, inspiring, and nourishing visit!

A Treatise on Temporary Spaces

My partner and I have a pretty non-traditional lifestyle at the moment, as most of you are aware. In our passive vagabonding, the plan is to be transients in each new locale. Conceptually speaking, we aren't planting roots anywhere.

What this literally means is I can't plant flowers, or vegetables, or buy appliances, or get a rug for this hideous floor.

And this adaptation to the actual temporary nature of each place is a bit hard.

Jorge and me, we're nesters. Maybe me more than him. Though we're travelers, we like to make each little space our own. And we like to be comfortable.

Most Latin American countries are really well-equipped for people like us. There has always been a very large population of travelers, long stay-ers, students, and visiting artists. So there is no shortage of completely outfitted apartments for rent on a short-term basis, or even just bedrooms available in a shared house.

We saw many of these in Lima, prior to selecting our shoe box. In Valparaiso and even Puerto Varas, it was the same. A wide variety of furnished and unfurnished complete apartments and single rooms. Some owners are lenient about who they let live there. Others demand proper visas and a long-term commitment. But there's always someone out there who will work with you, depending on what you're doing.

This is how it normally goes...signs posted informally in the street.

"I rent rooms." This was taken in Valpo during my first apartment hunt.

Jorge and I lucked out here in Lima. Our apartment is sort of like, the after-thought attic of this family's apartment. They have a sprawling place, really -- as big as a regular one-story house -- with an upstairs patio and bathroom. They added on to this with three individual mini-apartments I.E. shoe boxes.

Ours is one of these. On a quiet night, you can hear the neighbor peeing.

But the owners are awesome -- they agreed to a 3-month lease, no problem, can extend for longer if we want, moderate price, super safe neighborhood, and two blocks from the ocean. Fine.

They have two youngish daughters, and the whole family is really laidback and approachable. Their 12 year old daughter is fascinated by me, and always volunteers to be the message bearer when the owners want to call our attention. All huge pluses for landlordship.

But our mini?

Our mini is a brand new venture on their part. And as more time wears on, it feels more and more like Tom Hanks in The Money Pit.

Though nobody has fallen through any holes in the floor, we find new and baffling issues on a regular basis. I think it started with the lack of a kitchen and just snowballed from there.

Since that time, we've found and dealt with a leaking sink, which in turn saturated 24 rolls of toilet paper that were in the cabinet beneath the sink. ("Dealing with it", in this case, is no longer using the cabinet, which comprises like, 40% of the storage space in our kitchen.)

A nice view for the drying toilet paper...before it sees our butts, anyway.

Then we had the Great Shower Debacle, which was that every time you took a shower, the bathroom turned into a tiny pool, due to the location of the shower head. They fixed that after about 3 weeks. Thank god, because every shower required a 15-minute clean-up session immediately afterward.

The sink in the kitchen, for some reason, still refuses to function without splashing everything in a five foot vicinity, even though the landlord put on this sexy hose meant to curb exactly that.

It's like an elephant snout that constantly sneezes.

Please note the perpetually moist wall beyond. 

My desk, which is a plank of wood somehow attached to the wall, is now falling out of the wall, which makes me afraid to leave my laptop on it or, you know, touch it.

The landlords, at the beginning of our stay, exchanged the double bed for a queen size bed, and in doing so provided us with a new bed frame. It was brand new, recently stained wood. We were really grateful, but it to this day still smells like a combination of farm and wet dog.

The water in Lima is...strange. We don't drink it -- there's plenty of bottled water, so no worries about the intestinal infections, family -- but it smells. Some days worse than others. I know on the grand scale it's better than some areas, and I shouldn't complain. But it was another blip on the radar as we adjusted to life in Lima.

And just a personal note: White tiled floors anywhere (be it bathroom, like here in Lima, or in my old kitchen in Valparaiso) is always a bad idea. Add a very hairy Argentinian partner to the mix and it's just a never-ending sweeping struggle.

That said, we love our little shoebox, and love that we have a temporary home that is safe and serves all of our needs (those that don't include baking, that is).

And it will do just fine until we hop to the next temporary space, which I'm sure will bring it's own set of fascinating and baffling intricacies...which I will then immortalize forever in my blog.