PART TWO
I think it's time to introduce with my three very different, very special, Peruvian women who are my comrades-in-quarantine.
Betty Samanaz Orihuela, in the hat, is the scion of a land owning family which goes back five centuries to the conquistadores. She created and runs the... (she has vetoed the word posada because she doesn't want her beautiful guest house to be confused with the Posada del Inca down the road, part of big chain). She says that although her parents were rich, the most important gift they bequeathed her was being born in the Valley, with all the magic it entails. She strongly validates both ancient Inca knowledge and present-day Andean culture.
On the left is Mayelli Zariquiey, a multi-lingual forty-something who gave up a successful career in a multinational company in Europe to study to be a personal coach using a mixture of Western psychology and the spiritual teachings of the Ancestral Andean tradition known as Amawtismo So, she's a shaman. She is strong-minded and opinionated but has been endlessly patient helping me struggle with technology.
Next to me is Virginia de la Flor Diaz from Lima. Virginia's sister worked as Betty's assistant for decades and now Virginia has now taken time off from her hospital job to help Betty recover from a knee operation. In contrast to three rather volatile personalities Virginia embodies calm, patience, and compassion. She has oft helped keep me on an even keel.
What better than a mine of local history, a guru, and a good listener, to share times of stress?
We do gardening, pick fruit, make jam, play cards, watch a Met-streamed opera every night, and spend hours on Whatsapp. Mayelli counsels her patients by phone, I do hours of pilates (note that, Vivian), Virginia watches soap operas, and Betty phones her very extensive family. The world outside would seem a long way away were it not for Peruvian TV that has nothing but Corona on it. After ten days lock-in, Peru has 480 cases, most self-isolating at home. 34 in intensive care, 1 death. But only 8,000 cases tested. The President says the stringent lockdown is the answer to restricting the spread. At ten days, tomorrow he will say how long it will be extended for.
And the Valley continues to heal. Not a whisper of a tourist.
And, guess what, my friend the bull now comes right up to the back door for his maize.
And... the repatriation plane? Last night an email from the FCO said a plane would arrive the next day. Sharp intake of breath! But... places were already assigned (supposedly to people already in Lima). OK, resignation sets in. But... there would be another on Saturday. The irony is that my friend David in Lima received the same email, but at 8am this morning the bell rings and a FCO bus is outside to take him to the military airfield. He is in his PJs and the bus can't wait! Lack of organization due to overwork, I suspect. Hope more notice for the Saturday plane. Still no news of how the 200-strong Cusco gang can get to Lima.
Two days later
Apparently the FCO plane took off from Lima on Saturday with many empty seats. I suspected as much This is a very tricky operation. Peru is a very large country, and tourists cannot get to Lima unaided. They may also not want to, more isolated areas feel safer. Having said that, yesterday brought news that three Brits in a backpackers hostel in Cusco have Corona. They and the others in the hostel have been taken of the FCO list. They face months in quarantine, I believe. What a nightmare! I thank my lucky stars (and mostly Danica who suggested Yucay) that I didn't do my usual frugal thing and go to that hostel myself!!!
I am very lucky to have wonderful concerned friends. This morning I had Whatsapp calls from Nigeria, Argentina, Cuba, the US, Norway and five from the UK asking why I'm not in Lima. I am hoarse from explaining "There is no internal travel unauthorized by the Peruvian government". I suppose a State of Emergency is very different from individual self-isolating.
As I've mentioned Betty Orihuela is a mine of information, but she tortures me daily with the magical places she knows on the not so beaten tourist track. I'm having a virtual guided tour of her personal favourites:
High on the list is Q'ueswachaka, the last Inca rope bridge, an engineering feat. It's a couple of hours away over the river Apurimac. The rope is re-woven each year with ichu (a grass only found at 5,000 metres) by four nearby communities, and then slung across the ravine amid rituals and festivities alive even before the Inca empire.
Just an hour away is the archeological park of Tipon, an Inca site worshipping the cult of water, with its 60 fountains feeding the Templo del Agua. The terraced waterways, irrigation systems, curved stone channels and waterfalls demonstrate the Inca knowledge of hydraulics. Tipon is on the network of Inca roadways, second only in historical importance to Roman roads.
Nearer home, 20 minutes from Yucay, is the Bano de la Nusta (tilde on both n), the fountain at the end of a series of culverts bringing snow water from Andes (another Inca hydraulic feat). The direction of the water is uncannily controlled by a finger and if you take a dip in the icy water (as only locals can) it gives instant energy.
Nearer still, near the village of Pachar, up a steep ancient 300-step stone path is the Inca ceremonial centre of Naupa Iglesia Chojuello, a portal to another dimension and entry to Machu Picchu. The monoliths of black basalt are decorated with chacanas (Inca crosses).
I can't wait to visit these four magic places. Some of you might have seen them but, plane or not, it will be a long time before I do. No photos of mine for obvious reasons. Look at the internet.
Did I mention the President has mandated another twelve days quarantine? My Peruvian ladies say they are used to historical ups and downs: they've been through acute shortages, military dictatorships, Shining Path guerrilla era (terrorism they call it), lots of corruption, and political unrest, so they are quite stoical. However, the Corona chaos has a life of its own. Latest figures in Peru: 580 cases at home. 58 in hospital of which 14 in intensive care, 9 deaths. The biggest numbers are the 3,000 odd people arrested for breaking the curfew.
No sign of the repatriation plane although it was promised for tomorrow, Saturday. I am beginning not to care.
WEEK 3
So, Yucay is idyllic. But the possibility of an airlift is unsettling. It deepens the dilemma: as the song goes "should I stay or should I go"? My family and friends are divided half down the middle.
One the one hand, sitting out quarantine in Yucay and seeing the Sacred Valley in pre- tourist pristine condition is soooo tempting. Even now, although I can't stray far from our back door, I can see Quechua peasant farmers working in the valley, and on terraces up the lower mountain slopes. Further up, the five-hundred year furrows of Inca terraces are still visible. How could they cultivate almost to the peaks? A few farmers pass the door carrying bundles of maize, squash or potatoes. And I can see women picking berries and herbs from the hedgerows, in their distinctive dress. Andean agriculture typically involves a mixture of traditional Inca practices and modern techniques to deal with the unique terrain and climate. Farmers still use ancient irrigation systems and traditional tools. (Betty lent me a sickle-like implement with a hook at the end for cutting and digging out maize roots in one go - very efficient). Peru is perhaps best known for it's 4,000 varieties of potatoes, markets for which are growing, I'm told. Maize is grown between 2.800-3,300 metres, native potatoes at 3,000 -3,700, and quinoa (with cattle) even higher, so all are produced somewhere locally. So much to learn if I stay.
On the other hand, home beckons. It's like a war, if you don't experience it with family and friends, you haven't shared the bad times so have no 'through thick and thin' to talk about. And I worry about not being with my family if they get ill, or what about if I get ill here and they're not here... And maybe the UK needs volunteers: on TV I see 100 Cuban doctors landing in Italy to help the hospital in Bergamo, surely the pinnacle of solidarity. Also, I'll need to be in the UK to mobilize for the next battle when Corona is over.... So, I start getting twitchy about being on an FCO list. I don't do social media so I'm not sure I'm getting info. I email my contact at the Guardian, and Pablo who started the petition. They assure me I'm listed on the Saturday plane. It turns out Pablo's daughter is in Huayabamba, the next village.
Back to 'on the one hand'. My three co-quarantiners are trying to persuade me to stay, I feel imprisoned by kindness. Betty knows how to get to Aguas Calientes, the village beneath Machu Picchu, without going on the train or doing the advertised four-day trek up the Inca Trail, which my dodgy knees could not do. She says I can take a taxi, then do a day's hike up with a guide. MP all to myself? Such temptation for post quarantine... and might my trip to Arequipa, the Nasca lines, Paracas still be on the cards...?
Bur, of course not, nobody knows when the virus will end. It could ravage Peru despite the government's tough actions. A friend pointous t my figure of 3,000 arrests for non-compliance with the curfew was well off he mark, it is 30,000. It's also very unlikely there will be commercial flights out of the country for months. And Betty is terrified of Corona spreading into the Valley because Andean peoples have no natural immunity. That would be hard to witness...
Still undecided. No news of the Saturday morning plane anyway. I relax again. I cut more maize, feed the bull, and return to Episode 5 of "OJ Simpson v the People". At 10 pm, I glance desultorily at my computer before going to bed. A message from the FCO says two chartered planes will leave Cusco at 10.00 the next morning. Crikey! I am calm, I can't get to Cusco anyway. Nonetheless I go outside, face east (although It's not sunrise) and ask Papa Inti for guidance. At 11 pm, another FCO email says a bus is coming down the Valley next morning to pick people up at various points, starting at Urubamba at 5 am. Second stop Yucay. Be on the main road at 5.15.
The die is cast. It could not be more concrete. Pablo phones me. Have I seen the emails? Snap decision. I go and pack. Afraid in case I don't wake up at 5 am, I watch more episodes of OJ. Betty and Mayelli get up to see me off. They open the padlock. It is two weeks since I came throught that gate. As I wait for the bus in front of the Plaza Mayor, Papa Inti rises over the mountain (pictured below) and bathes the square in sunlight. It is magical. I still don't know whether to thank him.
Read what happens next here
See Part 1 of this blog here
