Time Travel

A week has seven days, 168 hours or 10,080 minutes theoretically.

But in Peru, you can cram in thousands of years. More than potatoes or ceviche stands or presidential candidates, this country has history.

Start with sexy women…no, not those pious women but sexy women, the tourist-friendly pronunciation of Sacsayhuaman, the citadel on the northeorthen outskirts of Cusco, not Costco, Peru.

These huge rocks, some weighing as much as 361 tons, date back to 1,200 AD. What else weighs 361 tons? That’s about the same weight as the Vatican Obelisk in St. Peter’s Square, which was moved from Egypt with the help of 900 men and 75 horses, around 1586, the number of brawny obelisk movers would fill two 747s, including the jump seat. Those were the days before 23 kg weight restrictions on your first piece of luggage and Peruvian Ubers. Yes, those are milk cans on the donkey’s back.

My friend lost her phone at Sexy women, which was almost as bad as a spot as where I lost my sunglasses a week later, Fort Huacapune, about a three hour van ride from my couch in Barranco, Lima. Located in San Jeronimo, Surco, you’ll always find a few cows a few Chicago Bulls caps.

Reaching 3,600 meters in the sky, the fortress at the top was also built around 1100 AD, and resembles the poop emoji students like to put on the last slide presentations.

There are also underground structures that functioned as burial sites at Huacapune, but I think they were guarded by this guy.

The hike is to Huacapune is so steep, there are places you actually look down at soaring condors! Other birds you may spot include the Giant Hummingbird, the Golden Grosbeak, and Long-tailed Mockingbird.

Huacapune is not recommended after a night of indulging in Pisco Sours, which is recommended after a long day of parent conferences, due due poop emojis. I’ll leave it at that.
If you want to travel about thirty years back in time, visit the Operation Chavin de Hauntar museum in Chorrillos…yes, the same Chorrillos municipalit known for fish.

But instead of walking in the ocean, you’ll enter a secure military base to see a piece of history forgotten by parts of the world. Bring your official ID and be mindful of where not to take photos.

So … what’s the museum about?

About the time when some folks in the ad biz thought the internet would just be a fad and everyone was getting their Macarena on, a group of terrorists in Lima, Peru, better known as the MRTA, took over the Japanese Embassy.

The Peruvian military planned an ingenious surprise attack on site that involved the digging tunnels into the embassy grounds. This gave the operation the code name Chavin de Hauntar, named after the ruins in Ancash, an ancient system of tunnels in Northern Peru. Sorta the subway version of Machu Picchu.

In order to practice the complex manuevers of the rescue operation, the government built a replica of the Japanese Embassy at their military base in Chorrillos, which is now open to the public.

Some exhibits highlight the mission’s ingenuity, others courage and patriotism of the soldiers, some are just heart breaking. This letter of a fallen mission member is on display with mixed feelings from his mother.

I went to Chivan with a group of Peruvian friends who actually remember the event in vivid detail (et I struggle to recall the hand movements of the Macarena). Other friends who joined me are the parents of a young American marine. No words can communicate the wealth of emotions that were in the air.

Guests of the Chavin museum were given a tiny plastic soldier as a parting gift. Mine weirdly resembled my friend’s son. I put him on my prayer mantle, next to my mother’s ashes, St. Patrick, a gun shell from my brother-in-law’s military funeral, and a ping pong ball from a beloved student in China.

Along with reminding me to pray, these items alert me to earthquake tremors. If they move, that means there was a quake.

St. Pat didn’t make it through the 4.0 shake off the coast of Lima last weekend. I finally felt an earthquake, which felt a lot like having a big truck pass a tinny car in China, a few seconds of shaking, but without the plumes of diesel exhaust.

Or, travel back to when time stopped for everyone, COVID 19.

I don’t know how I missed it, but there’s a huge memorial for all of the doctors who died during the pandemic in Peru. Peru had more COVID deaths of doctors than any other country. The memorial is on the Malecon, not that far from Larcomar, the Watertower Place of Lima. I’ve walked passed this memorial a gazillion times, but just thought the faces were politicians or something. Now I stop and ponder.

Speaking of politicians…

The week also included a long, dry weekend. Peruvian elections were Sunday, so the town stopped selling alcohol at Friday midnight, hoping for sober minds as everyone is required to vote. I’m not sure who won the election, but I’m pretty sure everyone got the message to cast their ballot.

Along with 600 years of history and hikes and quakes and fish and friends, I managed to cram in a day of parent teacher conferences this week, held in Spanish, English, Korean and Japanese, which is why I head 3500 m high to clear my mind.

And, of course, indulge in a few Pisco Sours, but not on Saturday.