Aventuras Peruanas - I

Why do we travel? What is the inexplicable urge that drives us from our daily routines and native habitats to seek someplace that will provide a different experience? Curiosity, you might say, or the quest for knowledge is what drives humanity to explore new places. Perhaps. Perhaps our urges and desires can be explained away by the simplicity of the it-is-human-nature argument. But my enriching experiences with travel have yielded such profound encounters with places and people as to nullify any simple explanations for the need to travel. There is a reason why we choose to explore a certain part of the world over others. What that reason is, I don't yet know, but perhaps after a few more journeys to different places it will be more clear. But I digress. My intention is to record our familial trip to the ancient land of the Incas - Peru. And no, this blog will not have a time travel component, although for entertainment purposes I wish I could have included a blast to the past.

We landed in Lima, the capital city of Peru at approximately 1am on December 20th, 2008. I won't bore you with the tedious details (and delays) of our flight, they're fairly irrelevant. We were received by my cousin's husband, Nelesh bhai, who, bless his soul, had been waiting for us for 5 hours. My first observation was of the weather - warm, humid and virtually breeze-less. I prepared myself for summer in what my technicality-obsessed brain insisted was winter (which of course, it was..in the northern hemisphere). Lesson One: Prepare for a change in perspectives - not just technical, which was a big lesson to learn, but also cultural.

That night as you can probably guess, I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. The next day we geared up for some local sight-seeing. Lima is a beautiful city with a lovely Pacific coastline that attracts tourists from all over the world. After a drive around the downtown area, we parked at an area called Larcomar, which literally means 'the arc of the sea.' Larcomar, situated on a cliff, is essentially comprised of high-end Peruvian stores and restaurants that afford the best view of the coastline. After walking around for a while and taking pictures, we sat down to lunch at a restaurant called Mangos, where we were treated to a most delicious and elaborate buffet lunch. There we were introduced to the authentic Peruvian "ceviche," a seafood hors d'ouvres, which needless to say, was delicious. And of course we tried Peruvian alcohol. Peruvians make, and drink of course, a liquor called Pisco. Distilled from grapes, there are several delectable cocktails the locals prepare with it, one of which is called Algarrobina. This was what I had. There was also an array of seafood, and other meaty delicacies I cannot for the life of me recall the names of, but they were all delicious! :D After that Nelesh bhai had to go into work for a while so his driver Enrique, who is an absolutely delightful man, drove us around Lima downtown which is also called Lima Centro, and showed us Plaza Mayor, which was known as Plaza de Armas until recently. Located in the heart of the city it is surrounded by the Catedral of colonial times, the Presidential Palace, and the Archbishop's palace. The buildings have retained their medieval appearance and make for some fantastic photographs!

That first day I also began to appreciate the universality of English. Though most people in Lima, including Enrique who was our guide for the remainder of the day, spoke Spanish, we somehow managed to communicate through gestures and common English phrases and words - enough that we could understand each other. And of course, we attempted Spanish...and though by no means made any grammatical sense, we had fun trying.

Oh! Almost forgot! We also made an important purchase that first day at Larcomar; we bought the book The Lost City of the Incas written by explorer and Yale professor Hiram Bingham, who has been accredited with the discovery of Machu Picchu in the year 1911. I'm still in the process of reading the book, so I'll reserve my opinion about it for a different post.

The delights of Spring

Oh the promise of spring! Every year since I came to Canada, and have been fortunate enough to be able to distinguish between seasons (India only seems to have summer, winter and monsoon), I have anticipated the onset of this particular time of the year. For risk of sounding cliched, I will only say that there is something to be said about the circle of life and death in nature, that the seasons bring into sharp contrast. Spring is the beginning of a season of life, which carpets the earth with greenery and sends bolts of joy through the heart. I know, I'm recreating cliches upon cliches.

But I would like to know who doesn't feel a warm glow inside them upon spotting the newly budding tender leaves on a tree that suffered the fate of being barren all winter long? Or the soft tendrils that grow along the ivy that covers a wall or the siding of a house, or an arbour?
Who isn't, at least for a moment, enchanted by the sight of a bright yellow field of dandelions carpeting even the smallest patch of grass, or the sound of birds chirping and calling out to each other until dusk?

I live for changing seasons. I rejoice in being able to shed closed shoes for lighter slippers and sometimes no shoes at all. I'll leave you with Kahlil Gibran's words:

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair."

What a Wilde idea!

So I have a passion of sorts and that is to collect quotes. I enjoy reading other peoples' thoughts I suppose, and it creates a connection with people I will never meet, and those I have always admired. Today, while perusing a website for some Oscar Wilde quotes, I came across this one:

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." - Oscar Wilde

You can only imagine how much these words hit home. Actually they kind of smashed home and shattered my opinion of myself. I'm not being dramatic and I'm not claiming an identity crisis, but it definitely made me reconsider my passion. Mr. Wilde is not going to stop me from collecting quotes, but he has succeeded in increasing my wariness about allowing "someone else's opinions," be my thoughts. There is a lot we can learn from other people. And perhaps that is true education, but that need not undermine a person's individuality, or their uniqueness. Besides, it is virtually impossible to be completely and uniquely different in this world, although I don't think that is Mr. Wilde's point.

I realize I am trying to defend myself here against something that may not even be an accusation, but merely an observation of human behaviour. And there's something that makes me laugh. Even though I am acknowledging the fact that there is much truth in Oscar Wilde's statements, my first and foremost concern is to defy his claims and prove myself an anomaly of his generalization. And perhaps, here is another thing 'most people' will do - attempt to distance themselves from such an allegation that dares to place them in a general category. As much as we hate being told we are different, we hate being told we are like others equally, if not more.

This is why I will not give up my endeavour to collect quotes. All the things I learn about myself are so fascinating!

Couch Potato Syndrome

I have often experienced boredom, but the worst kind of boredom is when it is accompanied by drowsiness. Not only does that eliminate any chance of productivity, but it also nulls any possibility for inspiration. And what do I do to get back my inspiration? I blog. I know, I know, I sound like an endorsement, or worse, an infomercial! Once after a passionate presentation, my teacher appealed to the class for comments, and one girl promptly condemned my voraciously researched and ardently delivered speech to the infomercial hellfires. Needless to say, I was crushed and quite scarred for life. I had intended to stimulate, and had instead managed to disenchant my audience. That was one of my first lessons in public speaking. I still don't know if I've managed to tone down any fiery, impassioned speeches, but I have definitely managed to elicit better responses.

But anyway, thats not the point of my post. The point of this post is to brainstorm some ideas to do away with boredom, which may lead to drowsiness, which in turn, promotes inactive slacking, otherwise known as, the couch-potato syndrome (CPS). I suppose the first step in the recovery process is to acknowledge said disease; and allow me to be the first to admit to falling victim to the couch-potato syndrome.

So when I'm bored, and am looking for some sort of academic motivation, I usually write about my feelings....which again, probably sounds like the compulsive habit of one who has not yet begun to climb the social ladder, but I assure you, it only serves as a temporary outlet for any negativity...towards school... among other things. Anyway, if that doesn't work, then some kind of physical activity helps, which are few in number for me, owing to my lack of participation in athletic endeavours, caused of course, by CPS. Once either of these two are done, I feel somewhat rejuvenated and spirited enough to attempt schoolwork.

Of course, its a different matter that the time spent on any energizers is perhaps, inversely proportional to the time spent on any productive schoolwork :S

I guess this means, I either need to re-assess my methods, or practice them more often.

dear. god.

Music and Lyrics

I have an aversion to good music with bad lyrics and yet a strange, inexplicable attraction to them. One thing I can vouch for is my strong dislike for unnecessarily distasteful lyrics in a song. I really don't understand the charm behind the tough gangsta rapper who sings about his quivering member while watching some "bitch" shake her "ass." And then there are those who feel the need to recreate the violence they experience due to gang activities, in their music videos and mesmerize virtually every testosterone ridden male, or gangsta-wannabe female, who in turn imagine themselves inspired by the valiant gladiators of the gangsta rap fame.

Why are these people considered inspirational? Surely this is only the product of our materialistic, capitalist society, and media, its bitch. What happened to the poets of old who could melt hearts of stone, and influence queens and kings?

But heres the catch, heres where I begin to doubt myself.

On the one hand we have the freedom of speech and on the other there are a set of decorous and indecorous standards, which constantly place people in a hierarchy within society. Why does it bother me that these artists are exercising their freedom of speech? Why does democracy have to battle morality and ethics, and in this case, propriety? What gives me the right to judge these people based on the company they keep, or the image they feel necessary to portray? They are definitely doing more than I am, by making people listen to them. With that kind of power, why shouldn't they be justified doing what they're doing?
I don't think I can ever resolve this battle.

Dates and such

I've always been ridiculously bad at remembering dates. But the worst part is, I always end up forgetting the important dates. My parents are always in the back of my mind and I don't forget the fact that they're not alive anymore, but somehow I can never voluntarily recall their memory on the important days. In the past 7 years since they've been gone I've often found myself thinking of them a day or two before or after their birthdays and anniversary and even their death. Today, 7 years ago, is the day they died, and it took me this long to remember.

I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter if I remember them on purpose on certain days or not, because frankly I'm reminded of some memory of them every single day. But does that justify my forgetting to especially remember them on certain days? No, it doesn't. There is absolutely nothing my parents haven't done for me. They have done everything conceivable so that my sister and I could have the best possible life. I owe the life I have today to them and their sacrifices. And to all my family. And there is no way I can thank them all for it.

Wow. I think that's enough emotion for one post.

In the beginning, were the mountains and the rivers......

In a conversation with a friend I discovered that the human mind can only retain 7 things at a time. So to ensure that the important is retained, keeping some pen and paper always handy is a good idea. And at the rate that my mind tends to dispel thoughts, I definitely need to write stuff down. Besides, there is nothing more satisfying than penning down one's thoughts.

But for all my professions of joy and satisfaction about the act of writing, I am quite a disgraceful journal keeper. I attempted writing on live journal and ended up with 2, or perhaps 3, posts in a span of 3 years; and you don't even want to know the sorry state of my diary (which I have possessed for about 7 years now). But, this is a new attempt and a clean slate, and all else that signifies a beginning, so I will attempt to be relatively regular with this one.

What a dry first entry....