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Peru Part Five: But What About the Women? Excerpts from Day six of My Travel Journal Post Date: 11/17/04 Original Journal Date: 11/03/04 11-03-Wednesday, Paracas, Tambo Colorado, Lima Crack of dawn, literally. We are out of bed and hauling down to the pier for a wildlife boat ride. I am so excited because we are going to see penguins. I love penguins. I love sea lions, also, which we were also going to see. And though I do not love cold ocean mornings when the sun is not out yet, nor do I love cold ocean water splashing on me, nor do I love the feeling of waking up the morning after the US presidential election with a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach and a headache?hile I do not love any of those things, I did in fact love my wildlife boat ride. We rode out to the islas de la batistas (I think that's what they're called) where there were little roaming groups of penguins and flocks and flocks and flocks of birds. So many birds that they covered the sky sometimes. I've never seen so many birds. You forget how beautiful birds are sometimes because they feel so common, but these birds felt anything but common. They felt powerful. And we saw sea lions. So many fat, chubby, playful, lazy, annoyed, peaceful sea lions. Last year, there were over three thousand sea lions on these islands. This year, only about four hundred returned. Scares you, what we do to our planet. Or it should scare you, but maybe you're immune to it now. It's the same phenomenon Gavin was talking about with not understanding that there really are conservative Americans since he's never met any. It's hard to care about the disappearance of 2500 sea lions until you've seen a sea lion sitting calmly in the ocean. That's the moment when you understand that it's his, not yours. Sigh. Also, fun fact. One of Peru's largest exports is fertilizer made from bird shit. Much of the bird shit to make this fertilizer is collected from this group of islands (and believe me, we were smelling it - in fact, a few of us actually experienced feeling it land on us). The bird crap is so valuable to the Peruvian economy that people are hired to live in security buildings on the top of these islands and guard the bird shit from poachers. This is my way of saying that out there in the world there are people who, when you ask them what they do for a living, say, "I guard bird shit." So nobody here needs to be complaining about their job. The boat ride was great. We decided to get a late start on the day so that we could all enjoy the resort a little bit. After the boat ride and breakfast (they had orange marmalade - thank Christ because I didn't think I could eat strawberry jam one more day), Ho and Lisa and I played mini-golf. This was somewhat challenging since the actual mini-golf course was covered in cement instead of normal mini-golf green. And because Ho and I are ultra competitive about mini-golf, having grown up in environments where mini-golf ruled. Given all that? Lisa won the mini-golf game even though Ho kept yelling at his balls to go in, hoping they would heed his command. And I'm okay with Lisa winning mini-golf, because, really, I don't have to win every game. Really. Joel came out during the mid-point of the game to tell us that John Kerry had called W and was about to give his concession speech. I started just blatantly whacking balls as hard as I could. Ho wasn't feeling too well, so he went to lie down. Lay down? Whatever, I can never keep those straight. Jutta, Joel, Lisa and I decided to take a paddle boat out onto the ocean. For this, a Peruvian security guard and two Peruvian handy men were called in to lug our boat out into the water for us. After that, we all got prissy about having to walk over sea weed to get into the boat. But finally, we were launched. Joel I bet as soon as we were off the shore, the word "Gringo" was used at least a few times. Me Are we supposed to tip the Mexican guys who launched the boat for us? Joel Mexican? I see how it is. They're all one color to you, sis. Me Oh God. Did I just say that? It's just that, Oh my God. I'm not the person I thought I was. Joel I can't tell my friends at home this story. Telling them I was at a resort floating around in the ocean on a paddle boat launched into the water by Peruvian handymen would be the same as saying I asked those Peruvian guys to lay down on the ground and then I walked over them. Me But I called them Mexican. What is wrong with me? I'm supposed to be all one world and shit. Lisa Hey, Joel, I know you're supposed to be in charge of the steering and all, so maybe you wanna, you know, steer us in a direction. Joel Hey, Lisa, I don't mean to criticize the women in this boat, but the thing about a paddle boat is that it doesn't matter what direction you steer it if nobody is paddling. You have to paddle women. And so it went, and it was fun and we splashed around in the water for along time. And then ... And then ... We look over, not even twenty yards from us, and there is a dolphin jumping around and playing in the water. A dolphin! That close to our boat! He stays for more than five minutes and we just watch him and are thankful for the pretty, sunny afternoon on the ocean in our paddle boat. It is a good afternoon. Eventually, we load into the car, all packed up, to head to Tambo Colorado, some Incan ruins a couple of hours away. One might ask why we are seeing more ruins. It's because we're geek vacationing. And I love that. We get a guide at Tambo Colorado. He, like the other guides, does not know what he's getting himself into. When we left Paracas, we asked (well, actually Lisa asked), "How long does it take for people to tour Tambo Colorado?" The answer was, "No more than half an hour. At the most." Us? An hour and a half. Though it was fascinating. There were four levels. The lowest level was for the soldiers. The next level up was for public ceremonies. The third level was for The Inca himself. Oh, and the priests. They lived on the same level as The Inca. And finally, the fourth level was for the women. The women were not to leave the fourth level, where they lived in order to make clothing for The Inca to wear. Me Lisa, have you ever considered living in South America? Lisa No, not really. Me Why not? Lisa Lots of reasons. Me Perhaps the cultural and historical systematic oppression of women? Lisa There's certainly that to consider. Also, the big draw at Tambo Colorado is that they have still-in-tact Incan showers. And here's what's clear, you could really get the raw deal with the shower situation if you were Incan. For example, if you were The Inca, you were set, because two servants stood outside your "shower room" and heated your water over a stove before pouring it through your shower hole at you. That's actually a pretty nice way to bathe. Like a heated waterfall whenever you want it. In fact, Jutta took a picture of the set up in case she ever builds a house some day. On the other hand, if you were a solider, your "level" was at the bottom of the complex. There was seemingly one shower for all of the soldiers. And since you were at the bottom, by the time the water got to you there was either less of it or it was soapy and dirty from the showers by The Inca and his priest or the women. Ah yes, the women. They had showers up there on the top level. They were not heated. The were cold, mountain water showers. And when I asked about this, our guide, also named Pedro, explained to me that the Incan women were always very, very hot and would have enjoyed the cold showers. Bullshit, my friends. As I repeated maybe five or six times in the next hour, I was wearing jeans up there and I was not warm at all. In fact, I was the opposite of warm. I was cold and the last thing I would have wanted to do was shower under cold mountain water. By now, however, I had figured out that Pedro enjoyed the Incan view of women in society, so I began to aggravate and ask questions like, "But Pedro, were the women allowed to go into the marketplace or were only men allowed to handle commerce?" or "But what happened if The Inca needed his clothing adjusted? Did a woman come off the third level to handle that?" Of course, while Heike and the other English speakers found this hysterical, Lisa was translating these in a much nicer manner than I was actually asking them. Ah, Tambo Colorado. Ah, Incas. Ah, South America. Finally we left for the long drive home, and Jutta said the nicest thing. As we were driving past the same scenery we'd seen on the way down, we noticed that somehow to us it looked more lovely now. And Jutta looked at me and said, "It's more lovely now because it has memories connected to it." So.True. Back in town, it was late, we were tired and we needed to get up at five in the morning the next day, so we went to the Peruvian equivalent of TGI Fridays. I only mention this because it will later prove to be my downfall. Not some freaky-deaky little restaurant on the coast with flea-ridden cats in it. The TGI Friday Peruvian equivalent at the mall. Keep this in mind. Also, I lost a bet about whether or not I would end up back on the phone with the Cute Boy and ended up having to buy everybody at dinner ice cream for dessert. They were such jerks about it. Getting the ice cream menu out and drooling over it before our entrees had even come. Argh. And then, even though we had to get up at 5am, Heike and I opened a bottle of wine and a pack of smokes when we got back to the hostel and stayed up talking about life and things we'd seen and done and believed in and how people and the world are until after one in the morning. It was one of my nicest nights of the trip. Just the two of us in the deserted dining area with a bottle of sub-par wine and a lot to talk about without getting bored. What a nice way to end that segment of the trip. By which I mean the healthy segment. Tune in tomorrow for planes and trains, more stunning ruins, intestinal cramping, puking, crying, moaning and getting what I deserve for eating suspect looking seafood. FYI - I don't think anybody really says "Gringo" any more. When did this become feminist vacationing?