Yoga at 14,000 feet

I still haven´t figured the connection between the quality or variety of marijuana and the effects. The problem is I just don´t smoke enough to do a proper scientific study, there´s never enough data to control for environmental factors. For example, yesterday I smoked a joint of some brown, not so tasty stuff. I felt a bit out of it, somewhat uncomfortable and annoyed. Today, I smoked some greener, fresher stuff, and felt invigorated, inspired, everything pot should do. This could be differences in the plant, but it could have something to do with the fact that yesterday I was hanging out with a shiesty local swindler and today I was on a mountain with the sun shining on me and beautiful views of the countryside all around.

In any case, I got inspired enough to do some mountain top yoga. It was interesting, the spot I was, on top of a huge slab of uneven rock, left standing poses the only option, so I had to change around my routine a bit. The other good thing about yoga at 14,000 feet is that you have no choice to pay attention to your breath.

I also realized that over the years, I´ve gotten well acquainted with various idiosyncrasies of my body. That tendon that does the poppy thing when I move my leg a certain way, that shoulder muscle that reminds me of its existence when I have pressure on my arm at a certain angle. I wouldn´t say we´re friends at this point, but at least we´re on speaking terms. Lots to look forward to, right?

Engañado

I met Javier yesterday, he came right up to me on the street and struck up a conversation. His English was extremely broken but that didn´t hinder him in the least in speaking a mile a minute. It took me about 45 minutes of me speaking in spanish before he gave it up and spoke in spanish himself. I didn't have anything important to do, so I hung out with him for a few hours, good spanish practice and got to see some parts of the city I wouldn´t have otherwise. It was obvious that he saw some dollar signs in my 6 foot choco and backpack wearing figure, so I tried (quite unsuccessfully) to make it clear that there was no money to be made from me, but I´d still be happy to hang out and maybe go on a hike. He tried to sell me everything from pot to guided tours, enticing me with his two amigas that he just happened to have a date with--this magically turned to 3 ladies when we saw my friend Ronney later on. I paid for a lunch on the promise that he would by dinner (part of the culture, right?), and lent him 5 soles for something else. It should be apparent that I didn't get the best vibe from him, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, he seemed like a nice guy, and I don´t like to prejudge people; he kept insisting that we were just friends, that was all. Later on, back at the couchsurfing crashpad, he suggested we (meaning me) buy some beer. I really had no craving to drink at that point so I told him he could buy it himself, or use the money he owed me already. Javier did not like this idea at all. After unsuccessful pleading in his barely intelligible english, he grabbed the 2 empty bottles left in a huff. He returned 5 minutes later asking for money again, though the price of beer had magically gone down. Still getting no luck, he disappeared again, this time for good. With our 2 bottles. This may not seem like a big deal at first, but at least here in Huaraz, it is nearly impossible to buy beer without returning the same number of empty bottles. There is a fabled store somewhere where you can just put down a deposit on the bottle, which is quite expensive, about half the price of the beer. But at all the corner shops, anywhere remotely near where I´m staying, they just won´t sell without getting a bottle.

I fumed for a long time, trying to quench my righteous indignation with the thought that this is just a part of my white privilege. In a world where some people can work for a month or two then travel for 8 months or a year through countries where a third of the population lives on less than $2 a day, this sort of parasitic relationship is bound to develop . This point was driven home when I blithely told Javier that I had 6 weeks left in Peru, no time at all. He replied that Peruvians would love to have a 6 week holiday. So really, I should be angry at the system, not at this pinche weon. But really, stealing our empties? That´s fucking low.

I did have a blast in Lima. Met some great people, and dropped in on some great classes at La Tarumba (the circus school that has been running in lima for over 25 years). But my main reason for being there, to scope out the city and school for potentially living there for a year or so and training at La Tarumba, turned out to be a dead end. They have limited space and recources, and so really aren´t flexible for that sort of thing. Besides taking evening classes for hipsters and hobiests, he only option would be to wait till 2011 and apply to the 3 year professional program.

So, I escaped from the monstrous city and headed for Huaraz, a small city on the edge of the Cordillera Blanca, an incredible mountain range which has Peru´s highest mountain, Huascarán, and Alpamayo, which, acording to UNESCO, is the most beautiful mountain in the world.

I just got back from my first adventure, climbing at Hatun Machay. At 13,700 feet, its the highest sport climbing in the world, in a place aptly named "Bosque de Piedras" (Forest of Rocks). Having been sport climbing only once before, I was quite bad, and had a few moments of "shit this is scary i dont want to fall what the hell am i doing here?". But by the 3rd day I was significantly better than the first, did my first (and second) lead climb, and was no longer questioning why I was there.

So now I´m back in Huaraz for a couple days. I´m staying with Victor Hugo, a local mountain guide that I found on couchsurfing. He has a whole seperate apartment for couchsurfers, where I just ran into trekking guide I had met in Guatemala. Though it lacks a kitchen and a hot shower (and we´re not just talking cold shower, at 10,000 feet this is a glacial runnoff shower), its a great place to crash and meet people. And to prepare for the next adventure, a trek up and accross a glacier, among some mountain lakes, preparing the body for the altitude and the climbing of peaks that will come later.