Peruvian Andes - Huaraz
From my hostel window in Huaraz, I have one of the best views of Andean Peruvian life I could ask for. If there is a silver lining in having a cold while traveling, it’s windows like this, where you are best suited to spend hours on end as part of a necessity-induced recovery scheme. At least watching the wildly busy world of Huaraz go on from the 3rd floor lessens my FOMO.
My window is wonderfully placed right above the central Mercado of Huaraz, quite possibly one of the busiest street corners in this city.
I hear:
- hawkers selling their products, announcing them either with their old school analog voices, or augmented with scratchy, low quality loud speakers “Huevos - ocho soles por palete”!
- quick little honks, constantly, from the taxis and Colectivos looking for passengers, and from the electric rickshaws that are a dime a dozen here
- whistling as traders make deals across corners, waving each other over, palms and fingers pointed down, for who knows what
- the occasional bus engine: 5-6 of the terminals for the large bus companies are within a few blocks, shuttling their human wares from place to place, whether 30 minutes across the mountainous and windy-roaded landscape to the nearest hamlet, or 8+ hours back to the capital city of Lima (a bus ride taken in the reverse order yesterday, which was anything but pleasant: windy roads, minimal AC and a seat-kicking baby behind us whose three modes consisted of (1) screaming (2) laughing to a constantly playing music toy that featured ‘Oh Susanna’, ‘Farmer in the Dell’ and ‘Frere Jacques’ in endless rotation in the frequency and repetition as so chosen by DJ Baby and (3) snoring like a sunbathing male sea lion. Which would you choose?
I see:
- the aforementioned rickshaws, lined up in every color: blue, green, black, orange, yellow, purple. All of them with decal names on the front windshield, and various adornments (mostly crosses): “Los Angeles”, “La Veloz”, “Los Pioneros”, “Guadalupe”
- a Colectivo, whose porter is hanging out the sliding door waving down passengers and signaling the drivers direction, with a bundle of grassy greens on top, held together by a colorful scarf - the same one that will be used to attach it to its carrier’s back on the next leg of its journey
- hunched-over Andean women in flat shoes, colorful skirts (bright green, orange, pink, red), leggings (it’s high, 9500 + feet, and cold here, especially at night: 30-40 fahrenheit), striped scarf wraps around their backs carrying either babies or market goods or both, and top hats of all kinds. They are mostly felt-looking, but are much more adorned that what we saw in Ecuadorian Andean villages, with feathers and crush velvet and artificial flowers to add some flair. They also sit high on the crown of the head, sometimes pinned. Certainly more ornamental than functional. Some of the women have an additional cloth draped over their hat, presumably for shade. The men, at least here, are not similarly costumed - they are wearing basic, run of the mill sweaters and slacks, jeans, tennis shoes.
- cheese vendors with huge wheels of white, wet-looking cheese, similar to Queso Fresco, wrapped in plastic wrap or nothing at all
- herb and grass sellers with their dried chamomile fanned out enticingly on their blankets on the side walk
- a shaded stand of toilet paper for sale, by the roll or by the package
- HUGE watermelons for sale - the biggest I’ve ever seen, stacked perfectly
-unfinished brick buildings everywhere, with rebar sticking up in case another floor needs to be added in the future; this could either be a smart future-planing move, or aftermath from the huge 1970 earthquake that leveled the majority of this city and all of the surrounding ones
- rubbery dead chickens hanging in windows, de-feathered and yellowed to perfection
And it’s only Monday. Half of the tourist-focused city attractions are closed: museums, city buildings, monuments. But who needs all that when this display of life is just outside the window.
And there’s something very comforting in having this 3rd floor, pigeon’s eye view of all the action. So often as a traveler, especially one clad in sporting gear with a backpack and water bottles and extra jingling caribiners everywhere, I stand out and cannot fade unnoticed into my surroundings, especially if I am wielding a camera/phone. And for obvious reasons, not all these herb vendors, cheese sellers, egg hawkers and Andean women going about their daily business care for a gore tex-wearing visitor to be pointing a camera in their direction. So, while I’d rather be participating in the madness, I’ll take the pass just this one day and and study the action from my perch. Wish me better luck tomorrow on getting into these beautiful Peruvian Andes that are lording over this busy little city.
And now, back to my window...
My window is wonderfully placed right above the central Mercado of Huaraz, quite possibly one of the busiest street corners in this city.
 |
| Mercado Central de Huaraz, from my window; morning, pre-craziness |
I hear:
- hawkers selling their products, announcing them either with their old school analog voices, or augmented with scratchy, low quality loud speakers “Huevos - ocho soles por palete”!
- quick little honks, constantly, from the taxis and Colectivos looking for passengers, and from the electric rickshaws that are a dime a dozen here
- whistling as traders make deals across corners, waving each other over, palms and fingers pointed down, for who knows what
- the occasional bus engine: 5-6 of the terminals for the large bus companies are within a few blocks, shuttling their human wares from place to place, whether 30 minutes across the mountainous and windy-roaded landscape to the nearest hamlet, or 8+ hours back to the capital city of Lima (a bus ride taken in the reverse order yesterday, which was anything but pleasant: windy roads, minimal AC and a seat-kicking baby behind us whose three modes consisted of (1) screaming (2) laughing to a constantly playing music toy that featured ‘Oh Susanna’, ‘Farmer in the Dell’ and ‘Frere Jacques’ in endless rotation in the frequency and repetition as so chosen by DJ Baby and (3) snoring like a sunbathing male sea lion. Which would you choose?
 |
| View from the from row of Lima-Huaraz bus |
- the aforementioned rickshaws, lined up in every color: blue, green, black, orange, yellow, purple. All of them with decal names on the front windshield, and various adornments (mostly crosses): “Los Angeles”, “La Veloz”, “Los Pioneros”, “Guadalupe”
- a Colectivo, whose porter is hanging out the sliding door waving down passengers and signaling the drivers direction, with a bundle of grassy greens on top, held together by a colorful scarf - the same one that will be used to attach it to its carrier’s back on the next leg of its journey
- hunched-over Andean women in flat shoes, colorful skirts (bright green, orange, pink, red), leggings (it’s high, 9500 + feet, and cold here, especially at night: 30-40 fahrenheit), striped scarf wraps around their backs carrying either babies or market goods or both, and top hats of all kinds. They are mostly felt-looking, but are much more adorned that what we saw in Ecuadorian Andean villages, with feathers and crush velvet and artificial flowers to add some flair. They also sit high on the crown of the head, sometimes pinned. Certainly more ornamental than functional. Some of the women have an additional cloth draped over their hat, presumably for shade. The men, at least here, are not similarly costumed - they are wearing basic, run of the mill sweaters and slacks, jeans, tennis shoes.
- cheese vendors with huge wheels of white, wet-looking cheese, similar to Queso Fresco, wrapped in plastic wrap or nothing at all
- herb and grass sellers with their dried chamomile fanned out enticingly on their blankets on the side walk
- a shaded stand of toilet paper for sale, by the roll or by the package
- HUGE watermelons for sale - the biggest I’ve ever seen, stacked perfectly
-unfinished brick buildings everywhere, with rebar sticking up in case another floor needs to be added in the future; this could either be a smart future-planing move, or aftermath from the huge 1970 earthquake that leveled the majority of this city and all of the surrounding ones
- rubbery dead chickens hanging in windows, de-feathered and yellowed to perfection
And it’s only Monday. Half of the tourist-focused city attractions are closed: museums, city buildings, monuments. But who needs all that when this display of life is just outside the window.
And there’s something very comforting in having this 3rd floor, pigeon’s eye view of all the action. So often as a traveler, especially one clad in sporting gear with a backpack and water bottles and extra jingling caribiners everywhere, I stand out and cannot fade unnoticed into my surroundings, especially if I am wielding a camera/phone. And for obvious reasons, not all these herb vendors, cheese sellers, egg hawkers and Andean women going about their daily business care for a gore tex-wearing visitor to be pointing a camera in their direction. So, while I’d rather be participating in the madness, I’ll take the pass just this one day and and study the action from my perch. Wish me better luck tomorrow on getting into these beautiful Peruvian Andes that are lording over this busy little city.
And now, back to my window...
Taking a break with a birds eye view, good choice, and I hope your rest left you ready for more.
ReplyDelete