Amantani Island.

Tags

Amantani, Coca, Culture, Family, Food, Headache, Hike, Muna, Pachamama, Peru, Potatoes, Quetchua, Quinoa, Sacred, Travel

Almost three hours after leaving the Uros islands, the boat pulled in to our destination for the night of Amantani island. The groups lined up and waited for a few minutes to meet the women of the house each of us is staying in. Shortly after, we were led up the winding paths by our translator, before waiting for our host to catch up.

The language of choice it Quetchua which I have zero words of in my volcabulary. Thankfully that’s what the translator was there for, although the family does speak Spanish as a second language, so we could manage some greetings and graces. The housing and room is very simple yet pretty clean and the sheets look soft on the bed. After resting for several minutes, we were ushered down to the cocina, where the lady of the house proceeded to feed us with local vegetable and quinoa soup (incredibly tasty), followed by a selection of potatoes (Peru being known for thousands of types) and some cheese fried in egg. Just before the meal ended, out came the coca leaves and some Muña, which smells and tastes like lavender. A cup of hot water is supplied to place the leaves in and requires soaking for a couple of minutes. The extremely refreshing tea, is used for the altitude, headaches, and to aid digestion. It’s certainly working its magic. The family is always laughing but very quietly and the kitchen very simple. The sound of guinea pigs can be heard from the rear of the house and our guid confirms that these will indeed be used for food later (but not for us).

With luch working its way down, we were invited to visit the local community center for the kids, which was literally five minutes walk away. Our guide explained that there are just a few of these buildings on the island, but the island actually has ten communities on it (so not everyone has access). It’s certainly a work in progress and if we’d known more beforehand, we would have brought some Spanish school books along as gifts. Our guide asked if we’d like to play with the kids for a bit but we didn’t know what to do, as nobody spoke English and there were only two kids who were busy colouring. After watching them colour for a little while longer, it was time to head back tot he house and take a couple of hours out the Sun to rest.

After another tasty meal for dinner, there was a hike to the highest part of the island and the sacred place to worship Pachamama (Earth Mother). The hike was fairly strenuous, not being used to the altitude and a tremendous headache hit me about half way. Got to the top, in time to view a wonderful Sunset and escape shortly after from the crowds of most French, who kept rudely walking in front of shots, or trying to push people out the way. My headache is still going strong after getting back to the bedroom and instead of attending the zoo parade (my translation for the evening dance that was mostly for you spending money with the locals), I’ve popped a couple of Aleve and intend on enjoying a blinding sky of stars, before heading to bed.

Memories still fading.

Tags

Birthday, Family, Importance, Legacy, Memories, Mum, Relevance, Thoughts, Time

It never ceases to amaze me how much of our memories are either lost, locked away, or just buried, under a congruence of new thoughts. The human mind, is often very unforgiving when it comes to not taking people for granted, making autonomous their existence and influence, the way that we absorb ultimately subconscious actions, such as walking or driving.

Does this mean they are unimportant elements of the past? certainly not. What it does mean however, is that we are all, no matter how rich or famous, ultimately destined to be forgotten as physical beings, given enough time. At the very best, some will remain as a collection of words on a page, or image on a screen. What is never lost, is the influence that we all leave on an individual which will eventually make its way, however filtered, to other generations who interact with the lineage before them. Every single one of us leaves a legacy, no matter how small or unapparent it may seem.

Here’s to those sub-conscious influences passed to me. While new memories sometimes smother older ones, the often invisible legacy will always continue.

Dreaming of Freud, in a Python veil.

Tags

Dad, Dreams, Family, Grief, Growth, John Cleese, Loss, Mum, UK, USA

Bit of an odd interaction in my dreams last night; psycho-analysed by none other than John Cleese. We walked, I talked and he listened. Things I already knew, like, not properly grieving for my father, an interesting view of my mother’s life, after dad was gone, and the big question of why I don’t want to return to the UK.

An odd intro to this moment actually, came from me getting angry about a thrown out saucepan. I think the relation, is that I often take the little things in life, too seriously.

Anyway, cheers John. You reminded me of what I already knew, but often choose to forget.