For a weekend getaway, the four girls decided to head to Pisac to stay a night. There is a beautiful hotel there that has hot showers with pressure (!), a fireplace to eat your Peruvian dinner by, walls the colors of their extensive gardens and huge beds with down comforters. It was perfect. It was the flowers that graced the grounds that officially made me think I was in a tropical paradise: calla lilies, roses, hydrangea bushes, magnolias and drops of color I had never seen before. These line the sidewalk as you stroll towards the tennis courts and pool. We swam both Sat. and Sun. because, beside this pool being perhaps the nicest I have ever been to (OK, not the Water Cube), the sun was out, it is summer here and we wanted some wet exercise. (Yikes, on that we spoke too soon.)
After a wonderful evening of getting behind the bar to help the bartender make our drinks (that turned out well and responsible) and playing cards in the refreshing night air, Sunday was Carnival. In tiny Pisac, the central Plaza is filled with treats for the eyes and entertainment. The streets leading up to the Plaza are back-to-back markets where glistening silver and soft alpaca fur makes you stop to ask how much. Carnival celebrates tradition and fertility. They give thanks for the women and hope that the rains encourage successful farming--hence the ribbon- and balloon-decorated corn stalks. There is constant dancing and singing in traditional costumes--skirts, vests, hats, blouses, etc. The men step lightly and play flutes while the women twirl, their skirts like pinwheels in the wind. Some dancers are dressed as alpaca.
Then there are the kids. Of course, the littlest of us clap and buy ice cream cones and wander the square away from parents to see what the festivities have to offer. But Carnival is known for a tradition I have already experienced, and that is the act of soaking anyone and everyone. We should have kept our swimming suits on after the pool. Annie and I returned from a sunny weekend to hang our jeans and sundresses out to dry. Kids, from the age of two to well, they say you're never too old, run through the streets with H2O ammunition: balloons, buckets, super soakers and cans that spray like shaving cream. You simply existing is reason enough for you to be soaked so, out of nowhere, splat: a balloon at your neck. Whoosh: a gallon of water down your backside. Squirt: you look like you just won the World Series. Annie chased a few kids down with our water bottles, but otherwise you just have to laugh and hope the clouds don't cover the sun.
Even more entertaining was to watch the battles the children had between themselves. War raged on these streets, and I saw no mercy.
No one really cares they've just been hit; you can say "no, por favor" all you'd like, and it is like the predators don't speak Spanish. However, we did watch one man, not once but twice, go up to kids who liquified him with a knife. He would point the knife into their side and circle them, sternly speaking. The police caught on, and this man who liked staying dry a little too much left the plaza. For more on the water getting out of control, click here.
It was all absolutely stunning--the weather, the swim, the bed, the flowers, the growing friendships, the music, the dancing, the smiles any celebration in a little cobblestone town locked away in the mountains brings and, really, the chance to enrich ourselves with a tradition that, although not technically ours, opens our eyes to what others see as beautiful and important ... even if we do need goggles.
keep the post coming...tell annie hi =)
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