Ms. Galaty Goes to Huari (February 23rd, 2014)

The volunteer in Huari, Lauren, has had the unexpected privilege of a kitchen all to herself.  Her family, like many Peruvian families, went to Lima during the rainy season in order to enjoy the heat and see whatever relatives live there (and there are always some relatives who live there).  Her fellow volunteers often try to take advantage of this kitchen as well—it’s a chance to make such delicacies as steak and mashed potatoes, meat and vegetable infused spaghetti sauce, and tacos. It’s a chance to get out of your site and relax a little. 

Except not this weekend. 

This weekend there was no electricity.  At first we thought it was because her host grandpa was trying to fix the light in the bathroom and so had shut off the power to avoid electrocution.  Very reasonable.  But then he finished, the lights didn’t come back on, and he was as stumped as we were.  Still, there’s something poetic about being a Peace Corps volunteer and cooking by candlelight.  A whiff of what those early volunteers experienced back in the day (Hey Dad!).  So the avocados were mashed by the light of a candle stuffed into the neck of a Corona bottle, the beef was fried with a headlamp as an aid, and the last vestiges of the laptop’s battery were used to blast Robyn’s “Dancing on My Own.”  Eventually Lauren’s host dad came home (having not gone to Lima with the rest of family for work-related reasons) and explained that the reason there was no electricity was because he forgot to pay the bill.  Ohhhhhh.  So by the light of candlelight Lauren and I made our way to her room.  I clambered into my makeshift bed—two wool blankets as a mattress and a sleeping bag for warmth on the floor.  The comfort is exactly what you think it is.  With two melatonin in my stomach and the prospect of tomorrow’s hike as fodder for dreams I fell asleep.

A true candlelight dinner

With the house without electricity the next morning, and hence no way to charge the laptop, Lauren and I eagerly set off for Acopalca, the site of Daniel, and home to some pretty sweet hikes.  We had agreed the day before to play a game of Carnaval with his host sisters, so we hiked out with a spare change of clothing.  Once in Acopalca we quickly set off for the waterfall Maria Jiray, one of the biggest tourist draws to Huari and the surrounding area.  A peaceful enough hike, filled with pleasant views and good conversation.  As we neared the final bend, Daniel turned to Lauren and said, “Can’t you normally see it from here?” 

Do you see where I’m going with this?  Put on that Sherlock Holmes hat (yes I have seen season 3) and take a stab at it.  I give you the case of “The Missing Waterfall.”  You have essentially as much information as I did (there was supposed to a waterfall, but there wasn’t).  Ponder it for the next few paragraphs or so.

Rocking Daniel's campo hat

Where the waterfall used to be

Lauren and I, distraught and disconcerted

With no waterfall, we hiked back a little downcast (though really, isn’t it more exciting to hike to see a disappeared waterfall than a normal one?  Aren’t there enough consistent waterfalls in the world?), though our spirits were quickly buoyed by the upcoming game of Carnaval—essentially a giant water balloon fight. 

Lauren and I changed into said spare change of clothes, hardly concerned that clothes did not include shoes.  My bare feet slipped back into my hiking boots and we headed down to start filling the balloons in the thankfully bright and warm sun.

Several dozen water balloons and several huge buckets of water dumped on my head later, the clouds were coming in and I was soaked through and through.  Especially my boots.  It was as if I had taken my boots off and held underwater for several hours.  They were so wet and squishy.  As we all dried off, the incoming clouds became a raging thunderstorm.  Oh goody.  So strong was this storm that the electricity went out at Daniel’s house too.  Oh, that’s right.  I’m supposed to walk home in sopping wet boots to a house with electricity.  Nothing like a little R &R.

This whole time, by the way, Lauren’s dogs had followed us around.  They really hated to be parted from her.  So much so that they both managed to climb the ladder up to Daniel’s porch, where we all sat.  Imagine a dog’s body.  Going up a ladder seems feasible, no?  Now imagine it going down.  There’s the rub. 

Just as things seemed truly dire—a 40 minute walk in the pouring rain and thunder, with boots now both wet and cold, to a house without electricity, without the family pets who stranded themselves on the second story—Lauren got a call.  Her host dad, figuring we had the dogs offered to come in the company truck and pick us up.

Haa-llelujah, hallelujah, hallelu-u-u-jah.

And in those final minutes before he arrived, as we were lifting/dropping the dogs down to the ground below, I had an epiphany.  I could put plastic bags on my feet.  My socks and feet would be saved from the wet. 

Haa-llelujah, hallelujah, hallelu-u-u-jah.

Marveling at my own genius

As we were driving back to Huari, we told Lauren’s host dad about the missing waterfall.  Expecting shock and dismay, we got only a “Que lastima.”  Um, we just told you that a stream of water, consisting of several hundred gallons falling every second, has disappeared and you are not surprised.  Might it be that you know why? (Here it comes).

Turns out, the waterfall is not natural.  It was created in the late 1970s when a newly build hydroelectric plant needed to find a solution for its overflow.  During the rainy season, in order to stop the river overflowing from an unnatural and relentless new water source, they essentially turn off the waterfall. 

And a waterfall that can be turned off seems slightly less magnificent, doesn’t it. 

As we pondered this earth-shattering news, we were blessed with someone.  A group of police standing on the side of the road informed the car that the torrential downpour of rain had caused a house to slide off the side of the cliff and had killed someone.  Oh, great.  This is what we’re driving home in. 

As you can tell, we made it back safely.  We made it back, in soaking wet boots, to a house with electricity and as a new development, a leaking roof.  

(Lauren's) Home, sweet home.

The miserable conditions prompted a change in the sleeping arrangements (I got to sleep in the bed!) and the next morning I headed back home to Huantar a happy camper.   Huari may not have been what I expected, but it was fun and I was heading home to my own bed, with my own electrified house, ready to take a nice, hot bucket shower. 

But you see, I headed back a little later than usual in order to grab lunch with Lauren.  And that two-hour time difference resulted in a 3-hour wait at the bottom of my mountain for a car going up to Huantar.  Have you ever waited three hours for a car that might never come?  It’s super fun.

And in Huantar the electricity was still out from the storm, and as an added bonus some teenage boys had broken the water pipe so there was no water in my house either. 

Besos!