The rain coming down is relentless. The theme for the day. Once sardined into our Cuzco tour bus and headed to the airport for parts unknown, Nick Hill was presented with our class gift for the occasion of the celebration of his first day of the rest of his life. He insisted he is a mere 21 years young. Arriving at the airport was bittersweet, as we left our erstwhile tour guide Jose Maria at the curb, and serpentined around the LAN Peru check-in line. Everything seemed as it should: Rick was bellowing out gregarious laughter; Jonnalee joined in the guffawing; Jose Luis pressed forward to the front of the line; Schapp perused maps of the unknown; Silva stood– stoically.
James and Josh paced us as we made our way past check-in towards the airport tax area. Funny aside, apparently, it helps create jobs to not include the airport fees into the gross ticket price so that more people can collect these fees once trapped at the airport. Brilliant! One can pay in either Nuevo Soles (an almost completely useless currency, by the way) or the preferred, venerable Greenback. After they affixed the tax-paid stamp to our receipt-paper boarding pass, through “security” we passed to await the first leg of our journey to Quito.
The rain now is in sheets. Not one of us seems to notice that every single gate was minus the one very important thing that makes it viable – an airplane. Some of us window-shopped. Greg started re-reading a book that we finished sometime last year. Dr. Flores chuckled maniacally. Then, the most recent skirmish in the Battle of Cuzco began – no, we were not hit en mass with last night’s “cuy surprise” revenge. With a clear click of the mobile chorded microphone (yes, they actually more the microphone from gate to gate to announce flights), in unmistakably clear Peruvian Spanish came the news that our flight, to Lima, was cancelled! That’s it – no explanation, no delay? If only the FAA were as direct and honest in U.S. domestic flights! Naturally, we blamed the PF’s for waking us up waaaay to early just to “fire drill” us to a cancelled flight. Nice job guys. A small vocal minority blamed Foley, since he really likes it in Cuzco and just couldn’t bear to leave her, and her thousands of ragamuffin street vendor children without one last encounter.
The PF’s, however, swung into action, with a strong dose of international man of mystery Ivor, and our designated translator J.L.A! The rest of us stood around aimlessly wondering why we didn’t book on “Pisco Air” and what time it was in Canada – home of our patriotic tour agent. Sarah smiled serenely. Our Portuguese contingent prayed for better weather and safety in their outside voices. Tyler demanded “good American free-market” food. Hollywood signed the autograph books of countless international fans.
Needless to say, on a day that promised many hundreds of miles of arduous travels, we sit here, at the Hotel Don Carlos with a free day. What does the best Ag Leadership Class Ever do with a free day? Synthesis. Strong, insightful, critical, and humbling synthesis.
Our class came alive with witty and direct rhetorical questions and further probing answers. From understanding the contextual realities of the Peruvian economy, to the back and forth regarding Incas and Egyptians – we had plenty of time to cover it all. It’s Nick’s birthday, and he’s grinning as though he has achieved greatness in only his 21 short years on this tiny (by galactic standards) planet we call home. Conversation through synthesis bounced back and forth. Joyce to Tracy, interjection by Josh. Question by Tyler bounced by Lisa who throws it back to the Raisin Man. Like slow motion basketball (which, as an aside, is played in an open air arena every night three buildings from the Don Carlos), full of three-point shots, we dove deeper and deeper into why Peru is, or isn’t what WE would think it should be, or what we might want it to be. How about that Catholicism? For what it is worth, Dr. Thomas performed admirably guiding us to drill down on his favorite topics – death and disease. Like a proud father who only recently discovered his 24 “port” children, Dr. Young nods approvingly of what progressed from synthesis, to something much deeper than the norm.
The sun comes out. Miraculously, as though nature understood that every flight out of tourist deprived Cuzco had been cancelled due to inclement weather and could not possibly be revived – storm clouds burst apart at their apparent sleeves bathing this ancient Inca capital in tantalizing brightness. What were we, and the hundreds of other wayward travelers to due now?
The class dispersed to do what American’s due best – invest in the constricted South American economy (read = spend money frivolously)! As the now-travel-tested 39ers trekked out, rumors started trickling back to this chronicler with tales of wow and awe from all corners of this lama-shaped municipality. Names will not be used to protect the guilty. There are numerous statues in town to civil war era looking soldiers. Ironically, these are monuments to what we can only surmise to be the biggest Peruvian martial loss ever, to Chile, which was the only war that these statues could have possibly belonged. Discuss amongst yourselves, dear readers.
A strong group of rowdy hombres longing for the world’s finest cuisine headed straight out for Micky D’s for the double cuy pounder con queso. A couple less adventurous groups headed out for pizza – that oh so very South American dish (by volume, according to a reliable source, is the largest single food item consumed south of El Salvador and north of La Paz). Yet another group celebrated a certain fellow’s birthday in style – roast cuy with Relleno Peruviano and bottomless Cuzquenos. Shopping continued unabated in establishments ranging from almost Rodeo Drive to downtown Lagos. Educationally, we find it interesting the variety of slum adjacent to, and sometimes co-owned, by boutiques purveying to international swells. Ah Cuzco, queen of the Andes indeed. Word on the street placed a couple intrepid 39ers at this afternoon’s bullfight/cockfight double card. Naps were quite popular, as was reading, and people watching in the busy, dry, municipal squares. Lastly, a single solitary man was found out front the Don C – putting Ag Leadership in action. While puffing on what we only assume to be a non-hecho en Cuba Cigar, this 39er was preaching (in the Italian style) the merits of non-state sponsored capitalism as practiced in his home state. Go Cougs. The bell hop and porter listened intently and nodded ferociously in satisfying agreement. All was well in the macro economic world, for sure.
As most of us concluded our day early, in eager anticipation of our even earlier departure time on Sunday, the good ‘ol Don Carlos was found teeming with another group of travelers, this time from Peru’s mother country, Spain, who will leave this varied and rich country with the same reason to return – actually visiting Machu Pichu.
Good Night from Cuzco, 39.
No comments:
Post a Comment