HOLA AMIGOS,
Hope y’all are doing well! To be honest, this past week was not my favorite… I was a bit under the weather. I recently learned that I have a parasite hanging out in my stomach making me really sick. But not to worry, I am now on antibiotics and am feeling much better. Along with my friend the parasite, I had a cavity. Warning to future and current travelers: do not get cavities, especially in foreign countries. This past Thursday, my tooth started to actually ache, and I made the executive decision to visit a dentist. After chatting with some people in the office at my school, USIL, I decided to go to the clinic (which my insurance covered) close by my house. Thursday night, my Peruvian mother and I headed over. We spent 10 minutes handling paperwork and about an hour waiting. Finally, they called me over and told me the dentist had arrived. I saw a “Mamacita” walk in with a mini skirt, heals, and heavy make-up. My thoughts, “Yikes. Is this my dentist?” Yep.
I was moved to another waiting room upstairs on the third floor. I found a seat and noticed the drill pounding away in the background. Another hour passed, and it is finally my turn. I walked into the one room dentist office. I sat down in the seat, and took a glance around. Probably the same tools as the last patient, bloody cotton balls in sight, not as clean as I would prefer, but the tooth needed to be fixed once and for all. The woman, now dressed in scrubs, began to speak to me in Spanish. I stared at her blankly. Normally, I can catch the general idea of what people are saying, but even basic medical terms are past my ability. Luckily, my homestay coordinator, Humber, arrived minutes later to help translate. The dentist had me open my mouth and looks around. I pointed to the tooth in pain. She taped a tool on a few of my teeth and asked if it hurt. No, none of it hurt. Finally, I had Humber explain that the only tooth bothering me is the one with the cavity. Humber spoke with the women for a minute, and then told me she was going to clean my tooth. Ok, no big deal, like they do at my dentist back home where the hygienist brushes my teeth really well. Seconds later, I realized what was happening. The drill. I began to freak out and had her stop. Then I thought to myself, well that actually was not too bad; maybe I can handle a drill without Novocain? I told Humber that she could continue. And then it started to hurt... STOP STOP STOP. I started to cry…
Looking back I think I began to cry more over culture shock than anything else. I was in a crowded hospital where I could not speak for myself. I was left waiting, and getting more and more nervous for hours. And simply, the ways of density in Peru are extremely different. While I was waiting in the pharmacy, my Peruvian mother was holding me as I cried. I told her (in Spanish) that the dentist is very different in the United States. And she said, “Tu eres en Peru.” Obviously, I know this by now, but hearing it from my mom was kind of like a wake up call. I am in Peru and it is not the same as in the United States. And you know what, it's ok. And being ok, well, that is helping me look past what is “wrong” with the country, or rather the things I am not used to, and instead appreciate all the great things that are here.
In case you were wondering, my tooth is now fixed. I went to a new dentist the following day and he took care of everything, with medicine. I am all about fully embracing the culture, but right now, at this point, I still need some comforts from home, including Novocain. Maybe by the time I leave, I will be one hundred percent emerged.
Off to another story about… SALT. Sorry, this is getting lengthy! So much to share!
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Farmers we met along the way
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| Lots of wind! |
Saturday, growing antsy to leave the house after being bed-ridden, some friends and I decided to escape Cusco for the day. My friends, Sarafina, Mary Kate, and Corrie, came, along with Corrie’s Argentinean and Mexican friends that live in her homestay. Around noon, the group joined up and hopped on a bus to head over to the Sacred Valley for the Salt Mines of Maras. The bus ride consisted of a lot of, “Come se dice… en ingles/español,” making the best of the language barrier within our group. The time passed quickly, as we giggled over the ridiculous words we were learning in each other’s language. One hour later, we arrived in the outskirts of Maras. Typically, tourists have a taxi drive them out to the salt mines, but instead we chose to admire the landscape and walk the two hours to get there. Stopping to talk to locals and take pictures, we slowly made our way to the mines.
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| The hut with LOTS of salt |
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| Close-up |
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| Salt pools |
Halfway through it got extremely windy (choosing to leave my hair down might not have been the best choice). We were all getting a little “freezey” as my dad would say. We pushed through for the final 45 minutes and saw the salt mines in the distance below us. At this point, we began to rush. All of the crazy wind brought large storm clouds. Every minute the sky grew darker and darker. Rather than taking the road, we found a shortcut down into the valley. From the road, the shortcut seemed logical and quick, but once we hiked down, it progressively became more challenging. At points, we were required to repel down a cliff, swim through a river of mud, rock climb over steep mountains, climb through deep caves, forge through a hill of trash, all while being chased by wild puma. Ok, ok, that might be an exaggerated… But it was intense and we did have to slid down a hill, walk through mud, and climb over rocks. Sadly, no Pumas. Just as the heavens began to break, we were in the salt mines and a hut was in sight. Running past the salt mines (or really, salt pools), we asked the locals who were working if we could go in the house. They agreed and we headed in. Salt was EVERYWHERE. On one side, there was a pile of straight salt, and the other side, hundreds of bags. We stood awkwardly in the middle, surrounded by the workers for a few minutes, but eventually got comfortable and lounged on the salt bags for lunch. We befriended the children and shared our snack foods with them. The rain continued for 45 minutes, before we could leave the hut. We had little time to explore the salt mines because the last bus was leaving. I ran over quickly, looked around at the salt pools, took a handful of pictures, and rushed to catch up with everyone at the bus. We hopped on a full bus to take us to the entrance where we were originally dropped off. We waited at the bus stop for around five minutes (which seemed much longer in the freezing cold), then got on a new bus for Cusco. The whole day was exactly what I needed: good company, good conversation, laughter, mountains, and adventure.
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| And more salt... |
Loving life in Peru more and more (even with a parasite and a cavity.)
Hasta Luego,
Cole
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