High above Coya sits a cross overlooking the town. Since we got there, I have been eager to hike up there, but the rains in the morning, and pitch dark when we finally finished at night, has kept me at bay.
Well this morning the clouds were absent, except for foggy
wisps rising up from the terraced mountain tops. Deep golden arcs were starting to stream up in the east and I knew it was now or never to try. Martha, my house mom, told me when it dried up enough, she would show me where the trail was to get there. It was still too rough to go by her accounts, but she pointed the finger where, and I met with Todd, Cassie, and Jennifer to find the cross.
We followed a trail leading up past a smaller more primitive community up the hill from Coya. the washout from the river that cuts through town revealed how tumultuous it had been. As we climbed up, the path melted into the river bed and we found ourselves sinking almost up to our knees in mud. We came to an amazingly beautiful home with a fortified wall and turned towards the cross, still out of sight, and found a huge chasm that the river blasted out, cutting off our chance to get up there, especially with the sun now out, and the need to be at the clinic in 45 minutes. Covered in mud, I got back to my place defeated and to add insult, the water line to the house had been ruptured by the heavy rain last night. I grabbed a bite to eat, thinking of how great I am going to smell today at the clinic, and viola! The water cut back on. So I'll be a little late going in this morning!
The rounds were delayed as well since Dr. Shaw wanted to take some time this morning taking pictures with the group. As the rounds were concluded, I said good morning to Vicki, the three year-old double hip dysplasia patient, and she immediately snapped her fingers for me to come over and kiss her good morning. I don't know what it is, but she reminds me so much of a three year old version of Stella. She's plucky, and very smart behind those dark wells of eyes, and the smile, when you are lucky enough to get it (the nurses got pinched and yelled at her more than smiled at, I think) is thankfully the most infectious thing in the clinic.
She lies in bed with her legs cast in a wide V, which looks to be the most uncomfortable position to be in, especially if you are stuck that way for 6 weeks. I asked her father how long a journey they expect on the way back, and replied they have a six hour bus ride, and two hour walk. He'll have to carry her–V'd legs and all–for two hours.
I did some rounds shooting a cast change and passed through the recovery room where Vicki was, who had some additional guests, their village caseworker and a translator. They wanted to ask me, if I would be interested in becoming Vicki's godfather!
I was floored! As a journalist, you try and overcome the Observer Effect, whereby the environment is changed by the existence of the observer who is supposed to be committed to little or no interaction with the environment he is observing. Obviously, my homesickness for my family on this trip swayed my actions to take Vicki and her father under my wing so to speak. Every morning I would come in and check on them, play with her, practice my Quechuan on them, and form a bond. Now they want me as her godfather.
I was honored, but technically, since I am not Catholic, I probably couldn't truly be her compadre. And when she is scheduled to be baptized next year, the chances I can get back there, and my Protestant background, the priest would probably protest. But it was one of the most touching moments of my life to be asked.
We had another half day and piled up to go way past Urubamba to the Mares Salt Mines an hour away.
The mines are remnants of the Incan Empire, massive terraces of carved salt plots that supplied the Incans for centuries. Now, thousands of families own plots that provide them with their needs, and even a source for high end restaurants around the world. Oh yeah, they are stunning to behold!
That night Guido and Sandy invited us to their home in Calca for dinner and drinks. Pisco sours painted the night (a corn mash beverage mixed with lemon juice, egg whites foamed on top and garnished with bitters.)
To say their house was swell doesn't even begin to cover it. Casa Grande would be more like it. A beautiful property with stunning backdrops. It's the first place I have ever been I could live at and NOT miss having a TV nearby. Just give me a hammock in the backyard, or a comfy spot next to one of the many fireplaces in everyroom, and a good book (don't forget the pisco sour!!) and I am goooooooooddd.
I nailed Guido down for an interview with the jagged peaks as a backdrop and you really have to respect a man who holds nothing back. Guido is really passionate about the work his clinic does, and little tolerance to whatever might impede it. Afterwards, we had the best meal on the trip, a roasted chicken with a delicious seasoning I couldn't even place-which is pretty hard to stump me–and mmm–mmm-french fries!
The Quechua word of the day is: Titanchise Kanwan-good luck.
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