The Corrao Animal Sanctuary (Cusco, Peru)

Lama mother with a cross lama-alpaca baby

The Corrao Animal Sanctuary on the way from Cusco to Pisac is free to get into and serves as a rehabilitation centre for various indigenous species like the condor, different types of macaws and parrots and wild cats including circus rescued pumas. The animals are first rescued by the ecological police who brings them to the sanctuary. The sanctuary operates as a family enterprise and survives solely from tourist donations and purchases of animal-friendly products from their souvenir shop. The Peruvian government endorses and legalizes their paperwork, BUT offers no financial support. Tour guides DON'T stop at the sanctuary as the family who runs it cannot afford to pay the tour agency a fee for stopping there. 

Even with the government’s endorsement, it is difficult to set up an NGO due to the amount of paperwork involved. They are looking for committed support from international animal welfare NGOs. Their second purpose is educational- they have groups of school children who visit the sanctuary FREE of charge. They are asked to bring food for the animals hoping that in doing so they will learn to care for them. 

As a vegetarian, I cannot recommend strongly enough this place. I think the work these dedicated people do is admirable to say the least as these animal sanctuaries could function as an alternative to zoos. Each animal has its own rescue story: most can be rehabilitated and returned the the wild; others, however are beyond rehabilitation and will spend the rest of their lives in the sanctuary supervised and taken care of by the family. Below you can see a picture of an eagle called The Master- he was bred and trained to live partially in captivity to provide a safe enviroment and to act as a model to follow for the other animals ready to be released.

As a tourist, I must admit that I went on a tour to Colca Canyon for which I had to wake up at 3m leaving Arequipa and stopping at the famous Cruz del Condor (Cross of the Condor), we saw no condors close-by.The condor, the largest bird in the in the world, is now an endangered species due to mainly bloody human practices (bulls and condors fighting in some indigenous communities), food poisoning and accidents such as having their 3 m span wings caught in electric cable. It’s simply an amazing experience to come so close to a bird so big and majestic, and such a humbling one at the same time. Animals are fascinating and wild animals even more so especially when observed close-by.

Male Condor (with crest)

Female Condor

I wonder...

Arequipa is one of the most boring places I've ever been to. Ask anyone who's come to visit for more than a weekend and they will confirm it. I find myself longing for something/where else but I'm not really sure what that is. Lack of exposure to certain things simply makes me  forget completely about that thing even if it might have counted as one of my favourite things. Like hummous  for instance. I've managed to suvive without it for the past 2 months and I'm not craving it at all. Maybe that's how I've managed to survive here too. Something happens, I get very aggrevated (I wish I had a magic wand and made my bad temper dispear...), then I start to do something else, and suddenly it's like the issue or problem never existed. Unless it comes back that is, and being Peru it is very likely to come back or invite it's cousin or something. Lol. Still, there are some things that keep coming up and one of them is that I'm restricted from any kind of constant stream of information. And I need to do something about that. And soon.

I don't really have anything to share really. I've been getting all these ideas about the things I could do here, but I think I'll just pass. I'm not that involved at school, and honestly speaking I don't really care. It's not like I decided to become dettached all of the sudden, but the truth is that I find it difficult to care or get involved. Maybe if I felt there was a real need or that my input would actually make a real difference, maybe then I would feel differently. This way, I'm trying to keep my students awake and ensure they retain whatever it is that I tell them (teach is a bit of an overstatement as they only use what they 'learn' if examined). It's a shame but this lack of commitment and interest to a certain extent makes me less interested and almost reluctant to share things beyond the required amount (and the necessary doze of nutiness, otherwise it wouldn't be entertaining for any of us and then I would find no reason to share at all). I love the kids and all, yet I'm quite happy to mind my own business only, be and let be. After all, my expectations should be limited to the amount of English they have the ability to accurately produce and understand that it's enough to know as much as I ask them to know. And I do ask for a lot, but then again I have to accept however much they're willing to put in.

I think it was a couple of years ago that I decided to stop the gratuitous acts and just mind my own business. If you need help, you can always count on me, but unlike when I first started teaching for example, I see no point in going out of my way to teach you significant important things since you are as interested as a dead amoeba. Not a very poetci comparison, but it's not my duty to wake you up from your permanent slumber. Suit yourself. Sleep tightly and comfortably. I have my own slumber to worry about. So thank you Peru for teaching me that the value of caring (not) too much has the potential to destroy you.

Now, when I said Arequipa is one of the most boring places I've ever been to, I don't think I did it justice: it has 2 cinemas, a French and a German cultural centre, a theatre (I think) and... that's about it. There's no discussion, decision-making taking place, you're not in the 'middle' of things actively participating in anything. The level of involvement, awareness and civic responsibility seems to elude these people (as it eludes my 4-dogged downstairs neighbours who don't have any issues banging the meat flat in preparation for the earliest schnitzel possible, ie 7 am, or patrolling the common entrance hall as if it was their private back yard). I wish I could say lol, but it's more like 'woe' than lol. 

 

Anywho, I showed up at their door in the height of morning in my jammies and my crazy face on and asked them why they were disrespecting me so much to wake me up with their noise every morning (exaggerations are need not only for a potential comical effect or the colour they bring to my stories, but also because these people needed to understand how much they were getting on my nerves). I have never seen such incredulous reaction in anyone. I came out of nowhere and confronted them with the unbelievable: there was a moment of theatrical marvel then one said to another to switch off the radio and the others ignored me simply because they found it difficult to understand my 'poetic' Spanish. As I was calming down I realized that I had to do with people who were not used to boundaries, physical ones, and that they didn't know any better. There was no maliciousness or anything of the sort, simply they're well.. unused to such situations and unaccustomed to sharing their territory. Today when they woke me up again at 7:30 banging something back into life, I found out that they're actually from the village. So I have decided to get over it and move on (not before I asked the landlady to talk to them to keep it down). The funny thing is that I was planning a second decent on them but I couldn't open the door. Literally. So I phoned the landlords asking for help. I did contemplate getting out the window as I had to go to work to sign a contract (more on this in a later post) but I decided it was better to wait for them and have a rational conversation with them. I never know what's ok and what's not here. Self-irony and brushing people seems to work best, so that has been my strategy.

Putting aside the lowlife and life in the low lands, there is no day that I don't marvel at the beauty of this city. Every street has its own characteristic and its own personality and no day is like the other. If you ever get to walk down past some of the glistening white buildings downtown glaring at the mighty Chachani or the imposing Misti, it gives you a sense that you are truly living in a different world. I always have this strange sensation that I'm instantaneously being elevated to some higher plains where secrets are shared in silence with the mountains. I've walked down some hidden alleys and some narrow streets that made way for a sense of wonder and mystery that is difficult to put into words. That's the Arequipa I love, the white city of  mysteries. A mere reflection of the surrounding mountains that have it so well guarded. The city is changing constantly and these changes reflect whatever disposition the glorious mountains so exposed to the natural elements seem to have.

And so my days pass and my life is passing with them going between these realities of mine. Whenever I have a moment I know I am to fully rejoice in it because I'm going to get a good taste of the other side too. That's why I'm to rejoice in its wonder even more so...

And so 'Have a nice evening, Europe, wherever you are'...

You know it very well when you're at your wit’s end. Since I came to Peru I've been there more times than I can remember. Right now, for instance, it's 10:21 in the morning on a Saturday and I have been woken up before 9 by the shouting neighbours, a screaming kid, their regaetton music and all - the morning seems to be their favourite past time when their agitation it’s at its highest.

Everything was going fine- I had a new job which I enjoy thoroughly, I had asked the landlady to bring some strong disinfectant to pour down the drain in both bathrooms to get rid of the stench (only for a few days and then it will come back surely), and I had high hopes of getting cable television streaming through my laptop (that meaning I wouldn't have to buy a TV). Today however, things seem to have got back to normal as the neighbours are driving me mad as ever and the internet guy can't get the right device to plug into my laptop. Or maybe he just can’t be bothered...

Yes, that’s it: these people just can't be bothered. Just as they don’t capitalize the letters at the beginning of their sentences when they write (and not type ‘cause most of us can’t be bothered to capitalize letters when we type either). But most people here don't care and don't know any better. I don't know how else to put it, as I have never seen people try less and hassle more. These most people all want something from you even if they don't know what it is, but most times this is just money. You show up and simply by showing up you get ripped off. It's happened to me in Mollendo at the seaside, it's happened at the market, it's happening with the landlady, it's just happening.....

 One needs to push and ask, and ask, and ask again in order to get anything done. There's no people getting things done just because things need to get done...eventually. Here nothing seems to make a difference as these most people all just go on minding their own little business (which I still haven't been able to figure what it is as it seems to be the littlest of businesses) in what I have come to describe as a ''suspended time''. I can't figure out what it is that they do, what occupies their time. Except playing loud crappy music, driving Ticos for taxis and beeping their horn at every passerby, shouting out their merchandise everywhere, trying to chat up every passing foreign girl, and just creating a lot of loud needless commotion, what is it that these most people do???
 
Then you ask why is it that do I love my peace and quiet so much and why am I so desperate for a TV? ‘Cause I have no ‘social skills’, that’s why. Because I can’t have a conversation about peanuts or waxing for more than 5 minutes without going nuts and looking for something more meaningful to talk about in any language. And that’s tiring for both me and my listener as it kinda always turns out to be a listener and I. That or I simply ask a lot of questions. What else can I do??? Peanuts are for the English classes. My English classes, anyway. Besides, I have a latino internet, i.e. a temperamental one, I can’t really stream anything for too long and downloading takes forever. I need someone to talk to me too, and who else can tell me more things about Peru than Mr Discovery (Channel in case you were still doubting)???

I came here hoping to improve my Spanish, thinking for some reason that being the second largest city in the country with almost 1 million inhabitants would kinda bring with it the guarantee of some interesting cultured people. Fat chance lol. At this point people who have an opinion or so would do. How naive can I be really? I have landed on the moon, on a different planet where the mercantile hands of the little people handle it all. That's it in essence. Maybe that’s what it should all be about. I’m off to suspend myself one way or another. I’ll find some nothing to do. I’ll simply NOT do anything. Not be a human doing just a human being. I’ll just be...

Good for a Mediocre Person

For those of you who have been following my Peruvian adventure closely (I can’t really call it a telenovela, but I’m working on it), I feel an addenda is needed: I started writing an update for my family a while back, but then I wasn't sure if anyone else would like to read it or not. As I said, some explanations are in place as yes, my photos do speak for themselves, but then again, you don't really know what I’m up to. If you don't care to read this, that's fine also. Feel free to do whatever u want.

Now, I’ve just returned from visiting my Peruvian family and as one does, by telling them how my Colca Canyon trekking went I realized that it was an adventure indeed. When my beloved husband booked the future adventure, I honestly had no idea what I was getting myself into. I had just finished a month of working 6 days a week, commuting between schools and dealing with students whose Spanish needed correcting before dealing with their English, when Dave announced that we had to leave for the Colca Canyon at 3:30 in the morning. Why so early? Well, on the way, you stop at a place called the condors' cross presumably to see some condors flying above the canyon. All I saw were a bunch of condors hovering over some cattle in the distance, and more tourists that I would care to admit. Needless to say I wasn't too happy with this or the mini-bus we were all squeezed into (all the gringos that is).

When I said I didn't know what I got myself into, I wasn't lying. I thought trekking in the canyon would be like walking over rocks on the river banks, not going down a mountain for 8 km or climbing another 6. I did know or imagine we were going to stay in what u'd call pretty basic accommodation, but that doesn't mean anything to me. I’ve stayed in several-star hotels that were rubbish and/or overpriced. What I didn't expect was to be exposed to some rather, well, interesting situations.

After the longest walk of my life, we reached the bottom of the Canyon and had to cross a bridge. Needless to say we were the last ones but I personally was relived because I wasn’t the lamest one. We both were. Due to on old knee injury which he called at the time ‘housemaid’s knees’ (look it up), Dave was in pain every time we had to bend his right knee. It only hurt going down the mountain, but by the time we had gone down the mountain, we were exhausted and embarrassed for having had the rest of the group wait for us. We crossed the bridge, but had to climb up a very narrow rocky path on the side on the mountain. It was then when with Dave in front of me heavily leaning on newly acquired walking stick I started crawling behind him. I tried as hard as I could to clinging to the wall on my right, but that wasn't enough to keep me from looking to my left down into the sheer drop. I stopped breathing for a second and I think in my head I was already saying my last prayers. I was looking in horror at what seemed to be Dave’s wobbly legs and I wondered whether my end had come, when I hit my head against the wall. I had to stop as by this time I think I was already shaking and time had come to standstill. I couldn’t move and I had to will myself to move up one foot at a time to get to a place where I could get back to my senses. The path became flatter, but we were still dangerously close to the edge and the river was looming in the distance. Everyone was worried about Dave’s leg and as such nobody noticed me trembling and disregarded the look of horrified panic on my face. This gradually got better as we approached the campsite. The sweet fragrance of the fruit trees and the tropical paradise started to envelop me and I forgot all about what I had to go through to get there.

 

 

 

Anyway, that went away, and I finally decided to go to bed around 10 (we had to since I managed to arrange an earlier departure for the next morning given our ‘predicament’- Dave’s knee and my inability to breath without heaving every time we went up the mountain despite my asthma spray. Dave was already inside the bungalow sitting on the bed facing the door when he said in calmly voice: ’there’s a bat in here.’ I lifted my eyes, to see a poor bat flying in disarray from one side of the hut to the other behind an annoyed but calm Dave. I called out to one of our newly encountered friends who for whatever reason I trusted to be able to deal with this kind of situations (it was the same who shouted: fire! fire!), when he said:’ A bat?! They carry Ebola. And rabies.’ And as he hadn’t had his rabies shot at all and I still needed my third, I said: ’Dave, what are you still doing in there? Get out and let the bat get out too! So he did, to me relief and my amusement since I'm from Transylvania and all. Apparently my pet was waiting for me. Muahaha muahaha :).

 A couple minutes later happy that the bat was flying with the other bats around the tree behind somebody else’s hut, we decided to go to bed as one does in the eve of a big climb. I was climbing into bed with a miner’s torch on my head, when I noticed a tiny creepy-crawly on the wall beside my bed. Upon closer inspection, the creature revealed itself to be… wait for it… a scorpion. Yes, I have a picture to prove it. Ha! I wasn’t too scared because it wasn’t moving and it wasn’t too big, but still I said to myself: ‘it’s a scorpion. Go call the same friend (this before asking Dave what to do about it- you can guess what his reply wasJ). I went out and had my friend get out of bed to help me with the little thing. He came into our hut with his towel (?), climbed into bed over Dave and said :’ Ah! It’s not dangerous! We should kill it!’ and reached to remove his boot. Dave replied: ‘That’s what I said!’ and handed him his slipper. I whimpered, but since I had no better solution to save the night, I went ahead with it. I wasn’t too sure about how safe I was and as tiny as the scorpion was I didn’t want its sting near me. So, off went the scorpion on Dave’s slipper with a victory sound from my friend. I was beginning to wonder about this paradise oasis and life close to nature. I then remembered being shown a stuffed Andean snake in the museum village we visited that day and I said to Dave that I wanted him to check and make sure there were no coiled snakes in my bed. I wanted HIM to check. Poor old Dave. U never know when he comes in handy…

We finally went to sleep only to wake up the next day with a terrible pain in my left lung. I inhaled a few puffs and off we went. During the whole climb I was afraid something was going to give in. I had Dave’s old stick, and fewer things to carry, but still I walked with precaution taking it easy afraid something might pop, snap or something else. We left 30 minutes before the rest of the group, but happy we chose not to ride a mule. I would have felt ridiculous having the poor thing carry me. For some reason I thought mules were as small and frail as donkeys and the image of the stout Sancho Panza riding behind a slender idealist Don Quixote did cross my mind. So I saw myself riding a mule weighing less than me with its tongue hanging out dragging my feet all the way up the mountain.  This might have had something to do with a story our female guide told me regarding the anti-record of the Colca Canyon climb- 5 hours and 3 mules (a mule can only carry 120kg but can go up and down and up again in a day).


Anyway, we reached the top 4 long hours and 6 km later with our sticks and well behind our group. My lungs hadn’t given up on me and nothing had popped either. I had never done anything so physically strenuous in my life and neither had I been prepared for it. Neither was Dave, but his knee behaves and as long as he doesn’t put too much pressure on it going down, it doesn’t bother him too much going up. Still, I felt victorious for having done it even if the next 2 days I could barely move. I lost about 2kg so it was totally worth it. The views were spectacular and the whole experience once in the life time kinda thing. Except, I wanna do it again. This time for 4 days to take my time and enjoy everything I couldn’t the first time. So, pictures are not everything and most times, there is a story to tell. I'm looking forward to Dave and Christine coming over. I would like them to visit the Canyon. I think they will enjoy it. Minus the whole ‘Peruvian adventure’ bit .