Cusco, Pto Maldonado, Titicaca and Trujillo!
#61
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I promise, I promise. There's not much left anyway after this trip. I have three more days of riding so the jar has to last at least that long.
I will have to rewrite this morning's 5 am entry on Word tonight or in the wee hours tomorrow. Now off to meet another new mount!
I will have to rewrite this morning's 5 am entry on Word tonight or in the wee hours tomorrow. Now off to meet another new mount!
#62
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So one of the very charming cultural aspects of the Paso horse is that before the animal is taken out it is “presented” to the owner, by this I mean it is ridden in a large circle by the challan so that the owner gets to see its condition, action, brio and generally appreciate the animal before he or anyone else takes it out. Yesterday morning Robert, the challan, had a particularly spectactular Paso ready for presentation- not for riding, purely for presentation,which he presented to Javier first and then allowed me to take around this great circle.
There are times in your life when, if you are extremely fortunate, you get to climb into a Lamborghini, if you love cars. This for me was one of those times. This animal was so incredibly beautiful, so sensitive, so finely tuned that it almost seemed a sin to mount him. But I did, and he carried me around this big ring as though I were floating on a cloud. Marcella got some photos which expressed the beauty of his leg action, none of which I was really aware of. I was somewhere else entirely. I had him in my control for about ten, maybe twelve minutes until Robert stepped out and gave me the stop signal and my dream came abruptly to an end. I had to give this trembling, near perfect being back to his waiting hands, and bid him goodbye. I nearly cried. There are just those moments when you get to touch something that is so exquisite and extraordinary. Javier had him brought back out unsaddled so that we could both see his confirmation again, and again I was simply moved beyond words. Those of you who love horses can appreciate such a moment, and understand that while I loved every moment astride, those ten minutes were by far the ultimo. I’ve never been astride such an animal, and can only hope to do so again someday.
The last two days I’ve been fortunate enough to have the excellent company of Johnny the other challan, a charming man of 26 who lives just down the road with his delightful father and whose primary value to Blanca and Javier is that his knows every single ruta in the area besides having extensive horse knowledge. He also possesses a charming and patient personality, which, given that I’m trying my best to learn the complex tack and this breed, is very useful. Johnny is cheerful and happy and talkative, Robert’s opposite, and while Robert angers quickly when I make a mistake with the reins or with tack, Johnny is willing to take the time to back me up and show me again and again. There is a great deal to learn, and it doesn’t come easily. I’m finding that the order of things is terribly important and that the architecture of the tack is key.
If Johnny has a fault, he’s terrible with names. This led to a very funny episode yesterday. Both men know my habit of taking off at speed for a short while and then waiting for them at a corner, just to enjoy the horse’s gait. I never go too far, out of respect, and all I am doing is learning how to control the horse, and besides, I have no clue where we’re going anyway. So on one of these excursions, my horse knows we’re heading back to the house and he is quite happy speed up. He takes a sharp left along a main ruta- looks good to me, and off we go, pacapacapaca, pasoing away. The wind in the face, the lovely day. I get to the end of the road, turn around, Johnny is nowhere to be seen. In fact he’s right invisible. I’m thinking bano break? What? Huh? Then I realize the guy probably has no clue what my name is and is sitting way back there at the last corner feeling like a dunce waiting for me to figure it out. And that’s precisely what had happened. So I turn my mount around and we go pacapacapaca all the way back where Johnny is sitting quietly on his bay, at which point I say that my name is Julia, and next time I head around a corner the wrong way it’s a good thing to yell out my name and I will stop. This gets him laughing and by god if next time it’s about to happen he remembers so that he never gets left in the dust again. What is really funny is that he’s more sore that I am after six hours in the saddle and he’s less about a third my age, which I am happy to rib him about.
The great thing about this whole experience is that if you want to, you’re allowed to help with every aspect including cooling the horse down at day’s end with hose water. Not all the horses like this and after a hot day riding the cold water is a big of a shock on those huge muscles. So they are tied up tightly and you go to work making soothing sounds while you work the water up the hocks and to the belly and the big curves of hind legs and back and withers, and up the neck.
I rode a mare yesterday who was very nervous, not about cars, but about everything else. A sound from my camera, a story I’m telling, a gesture from the saddle would all lead to a big sideways move or a leap. I had to learn to be extremely sensitive to her movements and her nature. And when we got home and I heard her neigh with great emotion, and I heard a responsefrom inside, I got the answer to why mama was so intense all day. As we took off the saddle and bridle, handsome baby boy came hurtling out to poke his face into her belly and start nursing. As cute as can be, and she immediately calmed down. What a day.
There are times in your life when, if you are extremely fortunate, you get to climb into a Lamborghini, if you love cars. This for me was one of those times. This animal was so incredibly beautiful, so sensitive, so finely tuned that it almost seemed a sin to mount him. But I did, and he carried me around this big ring as though I were floating on a cloud. Marcella got some photos which expressed the beauty of his leg action, none of which I was really aware of. I was somewhere else entirely. I had him in my control for about ten, maybe twelve minutes until Robert stepped out and gave me the stop signal and my dream came abruptly to an end. I had to give this trembling, near perfect being back to his waiting hands, and bid him goodbye. I nearly cried. There are just those moments when you get to touch something that is so exquisite and extraordinary. Javier had him brought back out unsaddled so that we could both see his confirmation again, and again I was simply moved beyond words. Those of you who love horses can appreciate such a moment, and understand that while I loved every moment astride, those ten minutes were by far the ultimo. I’ve never been astride such an animal, and can only hope to do so again someday.
The last two days I’ve been fortunate enough to have the excellent company of Johnny the other challan, a charming man of 26 who lives just down the road with his delightful father and whose primary value to Blanca and Javier is that his knows every single ruta in the area besides having extensive horse knowledge. He also possesses a charming and patient personality, which, given that I’m trying my best to learn the complex tack and this breed, is very useful. Johnny is cheerful and happy and talkative, Robert’s opposite, and while Robert angers quickly when I make a mistake with the reins or with tack, Johnny is willing to take the time to back me up and show me again and again. There is a great deal to learn, and it doesn’t come easily. I’m finding that the order of things is terribly important and that the architecture of the tack is key.
If Johnny has a fault, he’s terrible with names. This led to a very funny episode yesterday. Both men know my habit of taking off at speed for a short while and then waiting for them at a corner, just to enjoy the horse’s gait. I never go too far, out of respect, and all I am doing is learning how to control the horse, and besides, I have no clue where we’re going anyway. So on one of these excursions, my horse knows we’re heading back to the house and he is quite happy speed up. He takes a sharp left along a main ruta- looks good to me, and off we go, pacapacapaca, pasoing away. The wind in the face, the lovely day. I get to the end of the road, turn around, Johnny is nowhere to be seen. In fact he’s right invisible. I’m thinking bano break? What? Huh? Then I realize the guy probably has no clue what my name is and is sitting way back there at the last corner feeling like a dunce waiting for me to figure it out. And that’s precisely what had happened. So I turn my mount around and we go pacapacapaca all the way back where Johnny is sitting quietly on his bay, at which point I say that my name is Julia, and next time I head around a corner the wrong way it’s a good thing to yell out my name and I will stop. This gets him laughing and by god if next time it’s about to happen he remembers so that he never gets left in the dust again. What is really funny is that he’s more sore that I am after six hours in the saddle and he’s less about a third my age, which I am happy to rib him about.
The great thing about this whole experience is that if you want to, you’re allowed to help with every aspect including cooling the horse down at day’s end with hose water. Not all the horses like this and after a hot day riding the cold water is a big of a shock on those huge muscles. So they are tied up tightly and you go to work making soothing sounds while you work the water up the hocks and to the belly and the big curves of hind legs and back and withers, and up the neck.
I rode a mare yesterday who was very nervous, not about cars, but about everything else. A sound from my camera, a story I’m telling, a gesture from the saddle would all lead to a big sideways move or a leap. I had to learn to be extremely sensitive to her movements and her nature. And when we got home and I heard her neigh with great emotion, and I heard a responsefrom inside, I got the answer to why mama was so intense all day. As we took off the saddle and bridle, handsome baby boy came hurtling out to poke his face into her belly and start nursing. As cute as can be, and she immediately calmed down. What a day.
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Yah, and I had no idea! But yesterday was even better. I was moved to a new facility ( although hardly done with Blanca and Javier's hacienda), La Palmita, where my friends drove me out first thing in the morning. The mornings are always so cool and they evolve into perfect afternoons here, so lovely you get so spoiled. I had a new mount, a chestnut mare. I got on her and began to ride her around the ring and damned if she didn't start trying to buck me. Now the challan starts yelling at Blanca and my friend that I'm trying to gallop the horse and I'm doing so such thing- I've given this animal absolutely no instructions to move faster, no movement on my part whatsoever. This has happened twice along the same side of the ring and my spirited litte girl has gotten it into her head that she wants me the hell off her back. Well my Spanish just isn't good enough but Blanca pleads my case, and explains to the new challan that I do not run paso horses, and pretty soon we have my mare calmed down and we are off. My challan is taciturn, however, and I am stuck with riding behind his butt for most of the day at a walk.
At one point, however, he does relent, we exchange horses, I guess at this point he trusts me enough to give me what turns out to be a feisty little stallion (the first time I have ever ridden a fully rigged little boy if you get my drift) and it's great fun. I actually hadn't checked the rigging when I got on and for the life of me for a while wasn't sure what was going on with this animal every time we got close to my mare, he whinnied and pranced and I started to get the message. There's a very specific kind of tail gear that is part of the Paso rigging which actually is a pretty good chastity belt so until I figured out that the animal I was riding was fully loaded I was probably okay. Ignorance is bliss. At one point I took bano break and took that time to check under the hood as it were and said holy crap, no wonder he's got so much enthusiasm riding behind this mare, and at that point I forced him to give her a wee bit more room.
My challan, now with the understanding after three hours that I have no intention of doing anything foolish with his beloved Pasos, is allowing me at times to go ahead of him. He is so taciturn that when it comes to the left or right, I get no instructions until I am well into the wrong direction and get corrected. So at one point I stop. Give him an amused look, introduce myself with my name, point right and left and indicate that it would be a good thing for him to yell the directions at me in advance. This doesn't bring much of smile but he gets the message.
So a couple of turns later he tries to do exactly that only I can't hear him because of the wind. He finally has to muster one hell of yell, I finally hear him, and break out laughing. This time I dismount, and find a rock. I hand the rock to my challan, and indicate to him to whack me on the head with it when he wants me to turn right. This actually made him laugh. Finally.
We climb over sand dunes and along side lovely views, and the only bad mark that I have consistently experienced here is the basura. It is a fact of life here, and I've asked everyone about it. People toss it out the windows, they take it out a few miles and dump it, and the constant wind picks up the plastic bags and anything paper and whips it until it comes to rest on bushes and trees and thorns. The trash covers everything and it is a true eyesore. I've just spent nearly five days riding routes from the playa to the cliffs, from Jequetpeque to San Jose and trust me, there is basura on every side road, back road, high way, private property. It's appalling, and it is a huge statement about how people here treat their land.
My challan gave me a simply gorgeous black mare for the afternoon ride, she had a charming disposition and great beauty and we rode to the ghost towns on the beaches. There is a cross (always with a vulture on it) and a tomb down there, and it strikes me that these are warnings to kite surfing hopefuls. The surf rolls in for miles and there are several ghost towns right on the water.
When we finally came in that afternoon Blanca and Marcella and her husband were waiting, and they had a surprise waiting for me at the hacienda. As we drove into their place, this would be the last night I would be with them, (not my goodbye yet but close). Roberto stood off to the left with Presente, the magnificent animal I'd fallen in love with the morning before. He was decked out in full competition gear, including the pellon saddle pad, just for me to ride one last time. What a gift, what a gift of untold proportions. Marcella had also bought me a Panama sombrero, and I jammed that on my head as I approached my mount.
Roberto held him as I ran my hands over his quivering neck, and touched his muzzle lightly. The pellon was huge and is worn over the saddle. I hopped on lightly and realized this wasn't just a photo op. They were going to let me "present" Presente around the ring, so on we went back to the big ring in back of the house. By this time I had so much emotion in my heart I had tears rolling down my cheeks.
Roberto took me to the center of the ring and reminded me to go slowly, slowly, always with hand signals. I lightly directed Presente to the side of the ring, and he stepped forward, hesitantly to leave Roberto's direction, and off we went. His movement was like riding a river, his steps high and clean. We swept around the ring again and again, and all I can remember was that the tears were streaming freely down my cheeks as I rode this unearthly animal around, understanding what an honor it was, what a gift it was from Blanca and her husband, and that it was a memory of a lifetime. Six times around we went. I lost a stirrup, he danced sideways from the distraction, and we calmly stopped to fix the issue. Roberto, always attentive, watched carefully from the center to make sure Presente was calm. Off we went again, my body quivering as much as my horse's from the sheer electricity of the moment. Blanca and Marcella took photos, and we calmly dealt with a persistent puppy.
Finally I drew up to Roberto and it was time. I only remember when he asked me "Bueno?" in his calm voice that I broke into tears, and did the best I could to answer his question without bawling. He looked away for me to have my moment, and when I got down, I hugged him, and said with all my heart, "Muchas gracias, Roberto,muchas gracias," and he knew how much I meant it.
I was still crying when I walked up to the crowded formed by Blanca and Marcella and their husbands, and was wrapped up in their arms, these kind and generous people, who knew full well the gift they had just given me. We spent the next hour talking, drinking and laughing on the porch, telling horse stories and finalizing bills, and exchanging information and making promises.
Horse people love other people who love horses as they do, they truly appreciate those of us who are moved by their great beauty and brio and energy, and if you are really lucky you are welcomed into their family with open arms as a rider and afficionado. While I have one more long day on la playa today where I can paso llano to my heart's content, most of my riding here in Jequetepeque is done. I most strongly recommend BSP (Caballos Peruanos de Paso, 044 310974) to anyone who seriously wishes to understand and experience this extraordinary breed. And beyond that meet simply lovely people, enjoy some entertaining challans and have some riding experiences you will never forget. If you have any inkling in this direction, book a room in Pacasmayo and get here and just do it. You will neither regret it nor forget it. It is an unbelievable experience.
At one point, however, he does relent, we exchange horses, I guess at this point he trusts me enough to give me what turns out to be a feisty little stallion (the first time I have ever ridden a fully rigged little boy if you get my drift) and it's great fun. I actually hadn't checked the rigging when I got on and for the life of me for a while wasn't sure what was going on with this animal every time we got close to my mare, he whinnied and pranced and I started to get the message. There's a very specific kind of tail gear that is part of the Paso rigging which actually is a pretty good chastity belt so until I figured out that the animal I was riding was fully loaded I was probably okay. Ignorance is bliss. At one point I took bano break and took that time to check under the hood as it were and said holy crap, no wonder he's got so much enthusiasm riding behind this mare, and at that point I forced him to give her a wee bit more room.
My challan, now with the understanding after three hours that I have no intention of doing anything foolish with his beloved Pasos, is allowing me at times to go ahead of him. He is so taciturn that when it comes to the left or right, I get no instructions until I am well into the wrong direction and get corrected. So at one point I stop. Give him an amused look, introduce myself with my name, point right and left and indicate that it would be a good thing for him to yell the directions at me in advance. This doesn't bring much of smile but he gets the message.
So a couple of turns later he tries to do exactly that only I can't hear him because of the wind. He finally has to muster one hell of yell, I finally hear him, and break out laughing. This time I dismount, and find a rock. I hand the rock to my challan, and indicate to him to whack me on the head with it when he wants me to turn right. This actually made him laugh. Finally.
We climb over sand dunes and along side lovely views, and the only bad mark that I have consistently experienced here is the basura. It is a fact of life here, and I've asked everyone about it. People toss it out the windows, they take it out a few miles and dump it, and the constant wind picks up the plastic bags and anything paper and whips it until it comes to rest on bushes and trees and thorns. The trash covers everything and it is a true eyesore. I've just spent nearly five days riding routes from the playa to the cliffs, from Jequetpeque to San Jose and trust me, there is basura on every side road, back road, high way, private property. It's appalling, and it is a huge statement about how people here treat their land.
My challan gave me a simply gorgeous black mare for the afternoon ride, she had a charming disposition and great beauty and we rode to the ghost towns on the beaches. There is a cross (always with a vulture on it) and a tomb down there, and it strikes me that these are warnings to kite surfing hopefuls. The surf rolls in for miles and there are several ghost towns right on the water.
When we finally came in that afternoon Blanca and Marcella and her husband were waiting, and they had a surprise waiting for me at the hacienda. As we drove into their place, this would be the last night I would be with them, (not my goodbye yet but close). Roberto stood off to the left with Presente, the magnificent animal I'd fallen in love with the morning before. He was decked out in full competition gear, including the pellon saddle pad, just for me to ride one last time. What a gift, what a gift of untold proportions. Marcella had also bought me a Panama sombrero, and I jammed that on my head as I approached my mount.
Roberto held him as I ran my hands over his quivering neck, and touched his muzzle lightly. The pellon was huge and is worn over the saddle. I hopped on lightly and realized this wasn't just a photo op. They were going to let me "present" Presente around the ring, so on we went back to the big ring in back of the house. By this time I had so much emotion in my heart I had tears rolling down my cheeks.
Roberto took me to the center of the ring and reminded me to go slowly, slowly, always with hand signals. I lightly directed Presente to the side of the ring, and he stepped forward, hesitantly to leave Roberto's direction, and off we went. His movement was like riding a river, his steps high and clean. We swept around the ring again and again, and all I can remember was that the tears were streaming freely down my cheeks as I rode this unearthly animal around, understanding what an honor it was, what a gift it was from Blanca and her husband, and that it was a memory of a lifetime. Six times around we went. I lost a stirrup, he danced sideways from the distraction, and we calmly stopped to fix the issue. Roberto, always attentive, watched carefully from the center to make sure Presente was calm. Off we went again, my body quivering as much as my horse's from the sheer electricity of the moment. Blanca and Marcella took photos, and we calmly dealt with a persistent puppy.
Finally I drew up to Roberto and it was time. I only remember when he asked me "Bueno?" in his calm voice that I broke into tears, and did the best I could to answer his question without bawling. He looked away for me to have my moment, and when I got down, I hugged him, and said with all my heart, "Muchas gracias, Roberto,muchas gracias," and he knew how much I meant it.
I was still crying when I walked up to the crowded formed by Blanca and Marcella and their husbands, and was wrapped up in their arms, these kind and generous people, who knew full well the gift they had just given me. We spent the next hour talking, drinking and laughing on the porch, telling horse stories and finalizing bills, and exchanging information and making promises.
Horse people love other people who love horses as they do, they truly appreciate those of us who are moved by their great beauty and brio and energy, and if you are really lucky you are welcomed into their family with open arms as a rider and afficionado. While I have one more long day on la playa today where I can paso llano to my heart's content, most of my riding here in Jequetepeque is done. I most strongly recommend BSP (Caballos Peruanos de Paso, 044 310974) to anyone who seriously wishes to understand and experience this extraordinary breed. And beyond that meet simply lovely people, enjoy some entertaining challans and have some riding experiences you will never forget. If you have any inkling in this direction, book a room in Pacasmayo and get here and just do it. You will neither regret it nor forget it. It is an unbelievable experience.
#67
Had time to read your last two entries, jhubbel. Lovely and touching.
I have enjoyed my time in the north, both the weather and the people.
Land of Eternal Spring.
You are not far from the Lady of Cao (El Brujo) site. Maybe you are not into archaeology but she is believed to be a high ranking female leader of the Moche.
I haven't figured out if your reports are in near real time but she is worth a quick stop on the way back to Trujillo.
I have enjoyed my time in the north, both the weather and the people.
Land of Eternal Spring.
You are not far from the Lady of Cao (El Brujo) site. Maybe you are not into archaeology but she is believed to be a high ranking female leader of the Moche.
I haven't figured out if your reports are in near real time but she is worth a quick stop on the way back to Trujillo.
#69
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Dawn indeed, AvRooster, and I wanted to add a final note as I was up at about 4 am today to watch the courtyard here at Hostel al Patio in Lima come to life.
It was with real delight that I found out that word got around that I was so emotional about riding Presente, and so darned if the owner of El Palmito stables where I spent the weekend riding didn't put me on HIS best horse, and when I got back to Lucy Valdez' hacienda she put me on HER best horse, and that by golly is what happens when you share your heart. I was writing my beloved this morning about what happens when you granted your dreams. There is an old saw about being careful what you wish for because when God wants to punish you He grants you your dreams. Fifty years ago I read The Black Stallion by Walter Farley and had this supreme wish that someday I would ride such a horse. Now I've ridden three of them. What I've realized is that I wasn't ready until now to appreciate and value such an experience. And that was the lesson. I didn't need to ride them for hours. Just a few minutes on such supremely extraordinary animals, and my wish was quite happily granted. Lucy sent me out for three hours on one of her finest show horses and my feet didn't touch the ground the rest of the day. Now you can pay for such an honor, but you can't thank your Maker enough for such an experience. You can only be deeply humbled by it. All these wonderful people have asked me back and it's already on the schedule for 2016.
Jorge's mother Marcella worked constantly to be my tour guide and happily she allowed me to pay her gas and time, and in all I have added something like twelve new friends to my circle. As in Argentina, what will bring me back are people and horses, it's all about relationships. I felt the same warm welcome in Argentina as I have here and it continues my love affair with South America.
Lucy got up at 4:30 to see me off in a taxi to the airport in Trujillo, and while I missed what you suggested mlgb, I'm under strict orders to return. That trip will include Arequipa and Iquitos but at least ten days in the Pacasmayo area again. And one does fall in love with the weather there.
The small boutique hostal where I am in Miraflores right now is a pure gem of a place. It's two blocks off the main drag, close to the mercado Indio and about a 25 minute walk to the beach. The place has a courtyard of colorful walls, a cornucopoia of flowers and plants and fountains, and benches which allow you sit and listen to the local soft noises which drown out the nearby traffic. As I write this morning the doves are cooing and the sun is picking up the colors of the flowers on the balcony over head. Breakfast is simply, fruit bread and juice, but options abound nearby. What I so appreciated was the same day laundry next door which allowed me to take care of all the filthy horse-sweaty breeches and tear gas socks that had taken up residence in my backpack. I can go home clean now.
I don't know if this was mentioned but in Pacasmayo I stayed in El Mirador, a surfer's hostal, which was perfect. I got the best room on the top floor, which afforded grand views of the sunsets and had amenities like a great big fat cake of soap in the shower. Such things just aren't provided elsewhere and it was lovely to have it. One day I came up to my floor to find it festooned from one end to the other with black men's underwear. After all it is a surfer's hostal, you gotta dry your undies, it just tickled me silly.
This hostal is perfectly located and the staff is highly attentive. Today, the daughter of one of the breeders is taking me out shopping at 2 pm, and tonight I head for the airport. I'm going to spend a good bit of time walking, writing and just enjoying the markets, but most of my buying is done. I even have my Peruvian sombrero. As AvRooster knows, it will be added to my collection of horse riding hats!
I did peruse the mercado Indio yesterday, at length, and there were a few places that had things of interest. While it all depends on that mercurial thing called preference, the markets can provide for just about everyone. I am currently on a search for a Peruvian jacket, very specific, not for tourists. No luck so far. But it was fun to search for other things, and sometimes to find the occasional item for someone back home. Most of what I wanted I found out in country for far less than in Lima, where the rents are a lot higher. But this is where lots of folks wait to shop and the selection is pretty good. I saw many of the same textiles, just more expensive. Occasionally there was very good art. As with any other mercado, it takes some walking around and talking. I found that when I took the time to speak at length with the women especially, they would occasionally go in the back and find something that wasn't on display- but was well worth the effort to ask for.
It was with real delight that I found out that word got around that I was so emotional about riding Presente, and so darned if the owner of El Palmito stables where I spent the weekend riding didn't put me on HIS best horse, and when I got back to Lucy Valdez' hacienda she put me on HER best horse, and that by golly is what happens when you share your heart. I was writing my beloved this morning about what happens when you granted your dreams. There is an old saw about being careful what you wish for because when God wants to punish you He grants you your dreams. Fifty years ago I read The Black Stallion by Walter Farley and had this supreme wish that someday I would ride such a horse. Now I've ridden three of them. What I've realized is that I wasn't ready until now to appreciate and value such an experience. And that was the lesson. I didn't need to ride them for hours. Just a few minutes on such supremely extraordinary animals, and my wish was quite happily granted. Lucy sent me out for three hours on one of her finest show horses and my feet didn't touch the ground the rest of the day. Now you can pay for such an honor, but you can't thank your Maker enough for such an experience. You can only be deeply humbled by it. All these wonderful people have asked me back and it's already on the schedule for 2016.
Jorge's mother Marcella worked constantly to be my tour guide and happily she allowed me to pay her gas and time, and in all I have added something like twelve new friends to my circle. As in Argentina, what will bring me back are people and horses, it's all about relationships. I felt the same warm welcome in Argentina as I have here and it continues my love affair with South America.
Lucy got up at 4:30 to see me off in a taxi to the airport in Trujillo, and while I missed what you suggested mlgb, I'm under strict orders to return. That trip will include Arequipa and Iquitos but at least ten days in the Pacasmayo area again. And one does fall in love with the weather there.
The small boutique hostal where I am in Miraflores right now is a pure gem of a place. It's two blocks off the main drag, close to the mercado Indio and about a 25 minute walk to the beach. The place has a courtyard of colorful walls, a cornucopoia of flowers and plants and fountains, and benches which allow you sit and listen to the local soft noises which drown out the nearby traffic. As I write this morning the doves are cooing and the sun is picking up the colors of the flowers on the balcony over head. Breakfast is simply, fruit bread and juice, but options abound nearby. What I so appreciated was the same day laundry next door which allowed me to take care of all the filthy horse-sweaty breeches and tear gas socks that had taken up residence in my backpack. I can go home clean now.
I don't know if this was mentioned but in Pacasmayo I stayed in El Mirador, a surfer's hostal, which was perfect. I got the best room on the top floor, which afforded grand views of the sunsets and had amenities like a great big fat cake of soap in the shower. Such things just aren't provided elsewhere and it was lovely to have it. One day I came up to my floor to find it festooned from one end to the other with black men's underwear. After all it is a surfer's hostal, you gotta dry your undies, it just tickled me silly.
This hostal is perfectly located and the staff is highly attentive. Today, the daughter of one of the breeders is taking me out shopping at 2 pm, and tonight I head for the airport. I'm going to spend a good bit of time walking, writing and just enjoying the markets, but most of my buying is done. I even have my Peruvian sombrero. As AvRooster knows, it will be added to my collection of horse riding hats!
I did peruse the mercado Indio yesterday, at length, and there were a few places that had things of interest. While it all depends on that mercurial thing called preference, the markets can provide for just about everyone. I am currently on a search for a Peruvian jacket, very specific, not for tourists. No luck so far. But it was fun to search for other things, and sometimes to find the occasional item for someone back home. Most of what I wanted I found out in country for far less than in Lima, where the rents are a lot higher. But this is where lots of folks wait to shop and the selection is pretty good. I saw many of the same textiles, just more expensive. Occasionally there was very good art. As with any other mercado, it takes some walking around and talking. I found that when I took the time to speak at length with the women especially, they would occasionally go in the back and find something that wasn't on display- but was well worth the effort to ask for.
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One more story at my expense, and this happened before I left Pacasmayo. The day before I left I realized that my riding breeches were really in a nasty state- nearly six days straight of riding and they were an eyesore of dirt, mud, stains and horse sweat. My riding shirt, too. Since I had breezes and sun at my window the obvious occurred. But since I'm inventive, Bright Idea also occurred, but since Bright Idea occurred after getting up at 4 am and riding for six hours without a break, something was bound to happen.
Bright Idea was wear the clothing into the hot shower and soap it all down, then rinse and hang in the window. No worries, right? Take out everything from watch to writing pad to pens and wallet and and and, then relieved of all this, climb in. Hot water hits, aaaaaaahhhhhhhh, scrub off all that nasty stuff. Get rid of the mud dirt sweat stains on the breeches, the shirt. Stand there with the hot water hitting the back. Reach around to scrub the back. What's that. HuH? AHHHHHHHHHH! My money belt!!!!!!! I've got a thousand US in there getting drenched in hot soapy water!
Well I guess this is a fine time to find out if it's counterfeit so I jump out, hurl the belt into the sink and then quickly dry off. Since I have to pay everyone in a few hours now I have to lay out all those twenties and tens on the twin bed in the late afternoon sun to dry. None of the ink is running (good) but the money IS wet (not good) and the bed is covered with bills.
Well the upshot of Bright Idea is that YES the clothing got clean AND dry and YES the money dried out in time (mostly) and no one will ever be able to accuse me of handling dirty money in Pacasmayo.
Everyone loved the story. It made paying them even more fun.
Bright Idea was wear the clothing into the hot shower and soap it all down, then rinse and hang in the window. No worries, right? Take out everything from watch to writing pad to pens and wallet and and and, then relieved of all this, climb in. Hot water hits, aaaaaaahhhhhhhh, scrub off all that nasty stuff. Get rid of the mud dirt sweat stains on the breeches, the shirt. Stand there with the hot water hitting the back. Reach around to scrub the back. What's that. HuH? AHHHHHHHHHH! My money belt!!!!!!! I've got a thousand US in there getting drenched in hot soapy water!
Well I guess this is a fine time to find out if it's counterfeit so I jump out, hurl the belt into the sink and then quickly dry off. Since I have to pay everyone in a few hours now I have to lay out all those twenties and tens on the twin bed in the late afternoon sun to dry. None of the ink is running (good) but the money IS wet (not good) and the bed is covered with bills.
Well the upshot of Bright Idea is that YES the clothing got clean AND dry and YES the money dried out in time (mostly) and no one will ever be able to accuse me of handling dirty money in Pacasmayo.
Everyone loved the story. It made paying them even more fun.
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I have no idea AvRooster. It seems to be a love hate relationship. But I am glad that this time it all dried out and stayed with me for once.
There's another kind of fun story to report, a short one. I had gone to the mercado Indio to find that Peruvian jacket, and never did find one ( I did find versions but didn't care for them and they looked terrible on me) so kept up the search. On the 30th, the hotelier offered to do a search online for me and he found a woman who made these pieces for special occasions, rent, sale, all kinds of situations. It was in a funky part of town and he insisted the driver accompany me. Well long story short that's what happened. We were met at the big blank door by a wary pair of female eyeballs and asked what we wanted, explained that we were the ones who'd called, and then enthusiastically allowed in. A charming young woman came to the front and she then disappeared to find what I wanted. In the meantime I fell in love with the jacket on the mannequin, which is the one I ended up buying. Bright red, lots of decorations, and we were both happy. It was all of maybe $45. And authentic.
The other wonderful find was the alpaca camel jacket that grabbed me by the credit card after a short walk down the main avenue in Miraflores. I don't know what came over me, I just walked in and here was this jacket and I put it on and the next thing I know I'm walking out the door with this huge bag. The time between seeing the jacket and walking out was a blur. I remember nothing. Women can relate, I'm sure. The same kind of jacket by Max Mara runs in the thousands, I love the brand dearly but that's a trip right there, here it was about $306 for the same look, and real Peruvian beauty. Then came the fun part. Where to put it in all the stuff.
Any determined woman I know who travels can pack anything into anything, and after I got back to Hostel al Patio the kind manager left me to my doings in the back room and my three bags. Somehow I even got the delicate sombrero in my carryon bag without smashing it, and now that I am seated beneath a charging station in the airport in Newark I can attest that all made it home in fine shape. And nothing ripped, tore, exploded or otherwise needed a girdle to get here.
So that's the other answer about the money, AvRooster. Spend it!
As it goes sometimes with connections, I have to wait nearly six more hours before I am on the plane home. This actually is fine as it allows lots of writing. The trip elongates because of the connections here in Newark. So I'm attached to a charging station and already missing my Gloria yogurt and my mandarins which I would eat by the dozen at a time.
This trip taught me a great deal about dreams coming true later in life, as we may be more able to appreciate them. That's often true for late bloomers, but it also speaks to how you also have to stay open to the possibility and keep the heart constantly searching and keen and curious. Peru clinched for me what has become an increasing passion for South America and pretty much decided that likely once a year I'm likely to be practicing my Spanish somewhere on this continent. I love being where people love horses, and are so full of love and life and energy. If Crellston is still reading I did take him up on a number of his suggestions and they did of course pay off. Especially on the exchange rate from the folks in blue jackets.
It's off to Nepal in three weeks to do the Everest Base Camp hike, so as soon as I'm home it's back to the workout routine, but there will be a thousand sweet memories to run through as I run steps. Peru was a million myriad pleasures, a country of colors and characters, where dreams were realized and wonders abounded. I am finding much of South America to be so- the heart of its people to the beauty of the land. You simply have to return. And AvRooster knows he doesn't have to convince me to ensure that there is a date on the calendar!
There's another kind of fun story to report, a short one. I had gone to the mercado Indio to find that Peruvian jacket, and never did find one ( I did find versions but didn't care for them and they looked terrible on me) so kept up the search. On the 30th, the hotelier offered to do a search online for me and he found a woman who made these pieces for special occasions, rent, sale, all kinds of situations. It was in a funky part of town and he insisted the driver accompany me. Well long story short that's what happened. We were met at the big blank door by a wary pair of female eyeballs and asked what we wanted, explained that we were the ones who'd called, and then enthusiastically allowed in. A charming young woman came to the front and she then disappeared to find what I wanted. In the meantime I fell in love with the jacket on the mannequin, which is the one I ended up buying. Bright red, lots of decorations, and we were both happy. It was all of maybe $45. And authentic.
The other wonderful find was the alpaca camel jacket that grabbed me by the credit card after a short walk down the main avenue in Miraflores. I don't know what came over me, I just walked in and here was this jacket and I put it on and the next thing I know I'm walking out the door with this huge bag. The time between seeing the jacket and walking out was a blur. I remember nothing. Women can relate, I'm sure. The same kind of jacket by Max Mara runs in the thousands, I love the brand dearly but that's a trip right there, here it was about $306 for the same look, and real Peruvian beauty. Then came the fun part. Where to put it in all the stuff.
Any determined woman I know who travels can pack anything into anything, and after I got back to Hostel al Patio the kind manager left me to my doings in the back room and my three bags. Somehow I even got the delicate sombrero in my carryon bag without smashing it, and now that I am seated beneath a charging station in the airport in Newark I can attest that all made it home in fine shape. And nothing ripped, tore, exploded or otherwise needed a girdle to get here.
So that's the other answer about the money, AvRooster. Spend it!
As it goes sometimes with connections, I have to wait nearly six more hours before I am on the plane home. This actually is fine as it allows lots of writing. The trip elongates because of the connections here in Newark. So I'm attached to a charging station and already missing my Gloria yogurt and my mandarins which I would eat by the dozen at a time.
This trip taught me a great deal about dreams coming true later in life, as we may be more able to appreciate them. That's often true for late bloomers, but it also speaks to how you also have to stay open to the possibility and keep the heart constantly searching and keen and curious. Peru clinched for me what has become an increasing passion for South America and pretty much decided that likely once a year I'm likely to be practicing my Spanish somewhere on this continent. I love being where people love horses, and are so full of love and life and energy. If Crellston is still reading I did take him up on a number of his suggestions and they did of course pay off. Especially on the exchange rate from the folks in blue jackets.
It's off to Nepal in three weeks to do the Everest Base Camp hike, so as soon as I'm home it's back to the workout routine, but there will be a thousand sweet memories to run through as I run steps. Peru was a million myriad pleasures, a country of colors and characters, where dreams were realized and wonders abounded. I am finding much of South America to be so- the heart of its people to the beauty of the land. You simply have to return. And AvRooster knows he doesn't have to convince me to ensure that there is a date on the calendar!
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Can I ask some questions jhubbel?
Would this home stay you recommend be suitable for my family of 4 (2 kids)?
PM doesnt sound fantastic, do you think going North out of Iquitos would be better, although it's a lot further to travel for a jungle experience if based around Cusco.
Would this home stay you recommend be suitable for my family of 4 (2 kids)?
PM doesnt sound fantastic, do you think going North out of Iquitos would be better, although it's a lot further to travel for a jungle experience if based around Cusco.
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