They're Not That Tall . . .

Kitchen counters here are generally higher than they are in Canada. Cupboards wander into the stratosphere, requiring stepping stools or, more often, chairs in order to plumb their contents. Joffre can't reach the tap on most bathroom sinks, especially the ones that are embedded in a vanity-type affair. Light switches and elevator buttons are so high that Joffre can't reach them, even straining on tip-toes. Nobody in a wheelchair would stand a chance.

What I don't get is why everything is so high up. I mean, one elevator's buttons were at my shoulder height, meaning they were about five feet off the floor. And, why? Peruvians aren't diminuitive, but they're definitely shorter than Canadians on average. I don't get it.

Throwing Carnivals

Well, it was Carnival proper over the weekend, so on Saturday we went down to the Plaza de Armas and had coffee in one of the second storey balcony restaurants that overlook the square. It was quite the thing to watch - at first there were just hoardes of young people running around in packs dousing each other with water (clear and coloured), shaving foam, confetti, and chalk dust. Then the parade started, and the water-throwers turned their buckets and squirt guns toward the dancers and bands.

You can see a larger selection of the pictures we took here:
Arequipa Carnival

But here are a few to get you started:





Note all the little yellow taxis in this last picture. They are the ticos that we've been cautioned against using.

Don't Drink the Water (It's Not Sweet Enough)

I've been meaning to say something for a little while about chicha morada, a popular Peruvian beverage that is consumed like lemonade or fruit punch. You can order a pitcher of it for the family at almost any restaurant. It is made from dark purple - nearly black - corn, and has a deep currant or blackberry colour. It is syrupy sweet and tastes of corn, bubble gum, and cinnamon. Really. I *want* to like it, but honestly.

And then, of course, there is Inka Kola, a hugely popular soft drink, which is food-colouring-yellow and tastes like cream soda. Or Kola Escocesa ("Scottish Cola"?), which is dark magenta and tastes very much like Inka Kola, only with a strange edge to it. Apparently it is locally produced. Yesterday we were out for lunch and we had the house lemonade, which was heavy on the sugar, light on the lemon. I have to stick to my bottled sparkling water, I think.

Combine all these beverages with favorite foods like deep fried cheese and pork skins, and it's not too surprising that weight loss schemes abound.

The Chachani Shot I've Been Striving For

(click on it to see full-sized image) See how pretty?

I can't wait to share the views from the new place. I know I'm going on and on about it, but I'm constantly fantasizing about having an early morning coffee in the yard, or a cup of tea or cocktail on the roof at dusk, and just soaking in the beautiful mountains and terraced farmland. It's awesome.

Mind you, we have this amazing view of the sparkling city lights of downtown Arequipa from the roof of this house - but the roof here isn't a place you'd want to hang out.

Progress

Wednesday was a big day for us - we interviewed our new nanny and hired her on a trial basis for this week. She is younger than I would have liked, at 19, and less experienced, but the boys love her and she is eager and smart. She speaks a bit of English, probably a little less than I was led to believe, but she is interested in learning and she is also interested in teaching the boys Spanish. She has her first aid training and a diploma in Business Administration from a local college. She is working on her thesis in the mornings and helping me with the kids in the afternoons.

We also went on Wednesday to see a number of other preschools, since I didn't want to go with the first one I saw, necessarily. I'm glad we looked around, because we found one closer to the new house that I greatly preferred, and we hope to enrol Joffre there, starting classes on March 6. He'll go in the mornings, and then I'll have the nanny helping in the afternoons, so I think it will work out very well.

Yesterday we went on the wives' bus again - I'm kind of addicted to it, because it means a free ride to the far-flung markets where all the good cheap produce and things are, and because the ladies who frequent it are all grandmothers who miss their grandkids. Joffre adores them, and they him. Today he asked me if we could go in the Grandma Van and go shopping, because he loves shopping, he tells me.

Keen Communication Skills
Last night, Joffre was trying to tell his dad something in the bathroom. Apparently, when Aaron didn't understand, Joffre said, "you no understand. We go tell Mom, Mom understand." But I didn't, right away, because he kept talking about something that sounded like 'tawrl'. So he said, "remember, that day, we go in the car, with the girls, the ladies, and we walking, that other day, and we go one tawrl, another one tawrl, another one tawrl? That other day? Remember that? With the one two ladies?" This went on for a good 5-10 minutes. And, eventually, I did remember that the day before we had gone in the car with the woman from Aaron's company and the nanny, and we had gone to three schools. And when I got it, he said, "yeah, that what I trying to tell you today in the van with the grandmas, remember that?" Because he had been trying to tell them about visiting the schools, and none of us understood what he was saying. So we worked a bit on his pronunciation of schools, but mostly I was just amazed at how patiently he explained and elaborated until we got what he was talking about.

So, we have made great progress this week, on preschool, nanny, communication, and all kinds of things. Which, considering some of the problems we were having last Friday, and at the beginning of this week, makes me very very happy.

Wallflowers

The water damage is pretty, in a "wow is this going to be costly to fix" sort of way.

Rooftop Views

Thank Heavens for husbands who wake up at the crack of dawn - otherwise, I'd never get to see these amazing views of the mountains at sunrise. Because, you know, I usually sleep in till 6:30.

Killer Bunnies

Popular culture has long juxtaposed the cute, cuddly bunny rabbit and the horror genre to produce an absurd effect - just look at Bunnicula, Donnie Darko the recent Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, and of course the classic Killer Rabbit of Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

So I shouldn't be surprised that Joffre is scared of this:

But I don't find it scary - it just reminds me of Harvey.

The Ants Keep Marching In and In

I guess the man with the can and the rag was no match for my children's ability to spread crumbs and smear traces of food on the floor, since most of the house - upstairs and down - once again has ants. Another call to the Ant Man is clearly in order.

We visited a potential preschool for Joffre yesterday. It looks very good, and they speak some English there, and he is extremely keen to go. It sounds as though the company might pay for the preschool, since they're committed to covering all costs of primary education for the children of employees, and here preschool counts as primary education. He will get to wear a school uniform, too . . .

We visited our soon-to-be neighbour yesterday. She's Australian and lives just four or five doors down from our new house. Did I mention how nice the view is from there? We watched a storm come down El Misti and it was just amazing.

Vote For Pedro
So, since we arrived we've been told that there are two taxi options here, but I've only used one. Last week on the wives' bus, all the ladies were going on about how we should really be using Pedro. Pedro used to work for AT (the other company), but according to the ladies he has struck out on his own and now is so busy that he's trying to get another guy working with him. He comes very highly recommended by Aaron's company, and in fact his contact info is on our contact/emergency card. So, when we went to visit our Australian neighbour, she insisted that we should call Pedro. So, we did. The first thing I noticed is that Pedro's taxi has a taxi sticker on in with a phone number, which is not the cell number that I called to get him. Once we were on the road, I commented that the ladies all really liked him and recommended him. He told me that this is largely because he speaks English (which I didn't know) and lived in Toronto for a year. Then he told me the whole story of how he came to be working in his current job. He had worked for AT for five years, but when word got out that he spoke English, the foreigners from Aaron's company only wanted him. The dispatcher at the AT didn't like constantly having to direct a specific driver on certain jobs, so Aaron's company offered to set him up with a cell phone so that the ladies could call him directly. However, AT prohibits its drivers from having cell phones on the job, to prevent moonlighting. So, he left - but he went to another company that doesn't mind his moonlighting. Most of his fares are people from Aaron's company, and they keep him busy enough that he is trying to get another cabby who speaks English in on the gig. The thing is, that I guess the cabbies have to provide their own vehicle, and we are not allowed to go in ticos, which are small, light, easily-scrunched cars. So, until this other guy is able to buy a bigger, sturdier car, he can't get on the Pedro taxi train.

My other big reason for using Pedro is that recently I've felt a little bit tied down by AT, which can take up to 45 minutes to send a taxi our way, and I've found them playing games with the fees. The rate for continous service is 10 soles per hour, and the other day I was out for 40 minutes and got charged 9 soles. Then the driver didn't have change for a ten, so I said I guessed he could just keep it - but Aaron felt strongly that I'd been ripped off, and if I got ripped off, other foreigners would too, and he got me to call the company and complain. So, the dispatcher sent the cabby back with 2 soles, once the dispatcher and I had agreed on 8 soles for 40 minutes. Later that day, we had a different cabby for an hour, and he called in to the dispatcher to confirm the fee. Then he said, "S6.50, por favor." I said, no, that's not the going rate for an hour of service, and gave him 10. Someone's clearly playing games.

Chachani in the Morning

This is what I really do see out the kitchen window on clear mornings:

It looks bigger and more as though it was painted on the sky in real life.

It is beautiful - I love to sit at the table and drink my coffee and gaze at it. Usually while this is happening, I'm also having mashed banana smeared all over me while Joffre says, "help me! Feed me my breakfast! I can't feed myself!" But the view of the mountains takes the edge off.

I Want to Be . . . Consequence Free

This is the shop where we bought our new camera. It is the exact same model as our stolen camera (they sold it to us with all the accessories; I don't think it was the stolen camera). We found it almost as soon as we entered the Siglo XX, a vast warren of shops that sell anything and everything. The price was appropriate and the company will reimburse Aaron for the camera.

So, one week without our camera, and other than that it's as though the whole thing never happened. Now, I don't want to complain about the company covering the loss of the camera, but it's not really their fault. I left it sitting out in plain view, in an unavoidable and unforseen environment where there were lots of strangers coming and going. It's discomfitting to experience a significant loss and then have an outside party come in and undo it. It is a very surreal feeling, somehow.

About the Boys

Okay, I know this is supposed to be about Arequipa, and not Joffre and Alec, but I also know that most of my audience would love to hear about what the kids are doing.

Joffre continues to surprise us with his memory. He can recount events from Christmas or even last summer in great detail. He also can nearly recite some of his favorite storybooks. His comprehension is good, too. Yesterday I said, "you need an attitude adjustment," and he said, "NO! I not having a bumpy day!" ("grumpy") He puts things together well, too. He thinks a lot and seems to make sense of things, in interesting ways (examples coming when I remember what they are - my memory appears to be growing weaker as his strengthens) Seeing that Alec now says Dada and Mumum, Joffre's trying to get him to say Joffre, too.

And then there's Alec, who dances and claps to music, crawls like a pro, plays simple games like peek-a-boo and catch with a soft ball (he even invented one where he would place his sock on the stair, wait till I went for it, then snatch it away and chew on it for an instant before giggling and putting it back on the stair), and today was caught using a cup to scoop up bathwater and attempt to drink it. He knows when he's not supposed to be doing something, and now when I catch him going for an electrical outlet and say, "Alec, NO!", he revs up to the crawling equivalent of a run. Several times he has seemed to repeat a word we've said, and he is now more or less able to walk holding my fingers. He is very vocal, crooning and singing to himself when he's happy, and grumbling and whining when he's not (usually when he can't play with something dangerous, or when we aren't feeding him fast enough).

That Traditional Arequipan Tradition

I've been wanting to visit a restaurant in the southeast of town called Tradicion Arequipena (alas, minus applicable accents because I'm too lazy to figure out how to do them). I've been going on about it a lot. I figured today was the day.

So, we got in the cab, got on the road, and had the following conversation:
Aaron: So, you have the guidebook, right, so we know exactly where it is?
Me: No, it's a really famous restaurant, the cabby knows where it is.
A: But there are lots of traditional Arequipan restaurants around . . .
M: I didn't say, "take us somewhere traditionally Arequipan," I said, "take us to the restaurant called Tradicion Arequipena."
A: I'm just saying, we should have the guide book. I think he's already going the wrong way. LOTS of restaurants advertise traditional Arequipan food.
M: {fumefumefumefume} It's the name of the restaurant!!!!

[time passes and it becomes apparent that the cabby is going the right way]
M: Look, I'm sorry I got so defensive back there, but I really think he does know where he's going, and I didn't realize you wanted the book along with us - I don't usually carry it with me.
A: Well, we had it with us this morning, I just figured it should be in the bag this afternoon.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
A: This place must be pretty close to my office.
. . .
. . .
A: Is that it across the street?
M: (glancing) Yep.
A: Yeah, that's where I went for lunch with my coworkers yesterday.
M: WHAT?!?
A: You can understand why I thought lots of places advertised "traditional Arequipan" food . . .

SPLAT! Happy Carnival . . .

Yesterday the kids and I were driving around with our friends, and we noticed people near a college throwing water balloons at each other. Then we saw that people were dropping water balloons from rooftops and balconies in the city centre, prompting us to roll our windows up. Much to our confusion, we then saw a group of boys walking down the street carrying buckets of water - but not in any particular hurry.

Today, we saw people throwing water balloons and buckets of water on each other all over the place - including out of moving vehicles at other motorists and cyclists - and people spraying each other with silly string or a shaving-foam-like "party snow".

As it turns out, this is all part of Carnival. All over Peru, and Bolivia, and possibly other places, it's traditional to throw stuff on other people during Carnival. It is ridiculously hot and dry and sunny during the days, and I think most people would be happy to get drenched with water, anyway. Apparently it's a holdover from a Galician (northern Spain, directly north of Portugal) tradition of ritualized aggression in which people throw ash, water, flour, dirt, and ants on each other during the beginning of Carnival, called the entroido, and Carnival "cops" run around in grimacing masks, whipping people as a reminder that it is time to cut loose and play. In Laza, Spain, some locals claim that this is a parody of evil tax collectors of bygone days who wore menacing masks to intimidate the locals. Because, you know, whipping them was insufficient.

Wikipedia has a different explanation for the throwing phenomenon. In the Galician region of Allariz, the legend goes that in the Middle Ages, local Jews tried to ruin the procession of the Corpus Christi when it crossed their street/neighbourhood, insulting people and "provoking" the clergy. Apparently, a particularly zealous local man appeared riding a bull and threw sacks of live ants and ashes on the offending Jews. In Laza, people also dress up as bulls and run around in the streets causing general mayhem. The interreligious skirmish has been largely forgotten, apparently, and only the light-hearted pelting people with dirt and live ants remains.

Apparently something similar happens in Portugal. The Portuguese call this the entrudo, and it was brought to Brazil but there it is mostly confined to the throwing of streamers and confetti during parades. I don't remember much being thrown during Carnival in Brazil, and I don't remember getting wet or covered in silly string, but a lot of it is pretty hazy in my memory . . .

Here it's only water and shaving foam, but apparently in some parts of Bolivia it has escalated to water pistols filled with ink and, in some areas where there is gang activity, real pistols filled with bullets. BOLIVIA, not here. Although, if we went to Ayacucho during Samana Santa (Holy Week, just before Easter), and caught the procession of Our Lady of Sorrows (Dolores, which can mean "pains" in addition to "sorrows"), we might encounter some locals intent on inflicting some dolores of their own with slingshots and pebbles.

Ah, hijinks.

Seriously, though, how did a phenomenon so apparently widespread and so (to my North American Protestant sensibilities) out-of-left-field catch us so completely by surprise? There is no mention of it in any guidebooks or tourist literature I've seen, and nobody who has lived here mentioned it to us. I had to ask the cabby about it and then Google such popular search terms as "Peru water balloon carnival".

Fang
Another Peruvian custom that I'm not surprised to have missed before having the cabby (hitherto referred to as The Source of All Popular Culture Knowledge) explain it to me is this: the first person to see a new tooth in a baby's mouth has to buy the baby a present. In Alec's case, he got a couple of sips of my Inca Kola, the better with which to rot that new tooth. In other news, Alec has a new tooth. This makes three. After sprouting the classic two middle bottom teeth first, he decided to buck convention and pop out an upper canine next. The upper left, to be precise.

It looks like a little vampire fang.

Or a puppy fang, since he is decidedly puppyish in behaviour these days, especially since he's crawling expertly now. His favorite destinations are the toilet, the garbage can, any visible wires or cords, and the electrical outlets. Oh, and the stairs. They are building baby gates for us at our new house, and we will have a baby Safe Room (read: Jail), where there will be toys and nothing dangerous.

He will loathe it.

Divergent Points of View

Some of the ladies on the Wives' Bus were lamenting the absence of Olympic coverage. We do get about fifty channels, including international/Spanish versions of CNN, BBC, FOX, etc, but none of them is covering the Olympics. They seemed really scandalized by the fact that none of the channels was doing any regular or extensive Olympic coverage.

Of the Winter Olympics. In Peru. In the summer.

Maybe it's just because I'm not a huge fan of the Olympics, but I find it neither confusing nor upsetting that they aren't featuring largely in the Peruvian networks' lineup.

Today's Moment of White Hot Pride

The guard at the gate said to me, "your son speaks so well, and so clearly! Is he really only three? My nephew who is three is barely talking at all."

Of course, part of it is that he's hearing Joffre speak English, and something in our brains always jumps when we hear a child speaking a foreign language, but after all the speech therapy, it was a wonderful thing to hear.

Hired Help

Just a few random observations:

-Joffre got angry with Nina for cleaning, saying, "my Mom do that!" And followed her around the house making new messes for the first few times she cleaned for us. We've mostly gotten him past that. When I explained that she worked here, that cleaning here is her job, he was silent and pensive for a good 20-30 seconds. He is now very curious about where she lives, how she gets here, why she isn't here all the time to clean up . . . I'm surprised at the depth of culture shock, if that's the expression that fits, a Canadian 3-year-old experiences when confronted with a maid for the first time.

-There are ads on TV for something in the Viagra category where the maid is perpetually embarrassed by walking in on the enthusiastic middle-aged couple - or finding evidence of their amorous activities throughout the house. Only in Latin America, say I.

-I got really spoiled having a dishwasher in Vancouver. There isn't one here, and I am ashamed to say I am hard pressed to get the dishes done on the days when Nina isn't here. I do try, though, to at least remove the slovenly evidence before she arrives on her work days.

-Taxi drivers are telling me I should get a nanny. Actually, now a couple of them are saying, "so, what's the status with the nanny? Hasn't the company lined one up for you yet? There are lots of good girls out there looking for nannying jobs."

Public Ovens

I asked the cabbie this morning about public ovens, since I'd seen another sign that said "We Bake Turkeys". Home stoves are gas powered here, and baking or roasting anything that takes a long time can use a lot of gas. A number of commercial bakeries will bake other things for people, for less money than it would cost to bake it at home.

So, if we want roast turkey - or, you know, a Christmas goose - we know what to do.

Illness

Not, you know, terrible debilitating illness, or anything. But, Joffre's been a bit sick in the tummy, and I've been feeling almost altitude sick (shortness of breath, dizzy, racing heart, nausea) for a couple of days. But the really special moment was when . . .

Joffre woke up from an uncharacteristic nap, and was tired and grumpy and floppy, and pulled one of his choice stunts, which is to lie down on the floor near Alec and allow the baby to pull his hair and grab at his face until he feels sufficiently justified in striking back. It's sibling-baiting in its purest form. This time, though, Alec had just nicely started pulling hair while Joffre lay there like a CPR dummy, when Alec suddenly vomited all over himself and Joffre's hair and face.

I think they're both on a cereal diet for the next couple of days till their tummies are sorted out. I hope mine doesn't get worse.

Twelve More Days

This morning I walked into the kitchen and saw this:

(Photo of Chachani mountain borrowed from this Colca-Arequipa site)

And I began to truly itch with the excitement of knowing that in a mere twelve days, we will be moving into our new house, which also boasts excellent views of El Misti:

(Borrowed from the same source)

Yesterday afternoon, we went back to the house with our contact from the company, the owner, and the real estate agent, and did another walkthrough, looking at things that need fixing/installing, and discussing what needs to be done before we can move in. We agreed that we would move in March first, and I'm very pleased so far with their willingness to accommodate us for various things that we need done in the house. We will also have twenty days after we move in to report anything that is missing. The homeowner has young children and is leaving behind her baby bath, and some larger toys that are in the room that Joffre will have.

I can't wait to get a camera and post some pics of the house. Heck, I can't wait to have company in the house!

Then last night we had dinner at the home of the Canadians I met last week. It was a great meal, and their ten-year-old son played patiently with Joffre, who is now going on and on about "my friend." It will be good to find him some more kids his own age to play with. We do go to the club with relative frequency, but we haven't seen the same kids twice there so far, and so there's been no chance to build a friendship. Apparently preschool starts mid-March, and there are rumours about a bilingual one that takes three-year-olds, so we'll see if we can get him in there. In the meantime, we just have to go to the club as much as possible!